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diff --git a/963-h/963-h.htm b/963-h/963-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2648bda --- /dev/null +++ b/963-h/963-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,43897 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Little Dorrit | Project Gutenberg + </title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" > + <style> + <!-- + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + --> +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE DORRIT ***</div> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h1> + LITTLE DORRIT + </h1> + <h2> + By Charles Dickens + </h2> +<p> + <br> + </p> + +<p> + <br> + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0008m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0008m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0008.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0009m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0009m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0009.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE 1857 EDITION </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>BOOK THE FIRST: POVERTY</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER 1. Sun and Shadow </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER 2 Fellow Travellers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER 3. Home </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER 4. Mrs Flintwinch has a Dream </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER 5. Family Affairs </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER 6. The Father of the Marshalsea </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER 7. The Child of the Marshalsea </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER 8. The Lock </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER 9. Little Mother </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER 10. Containing the whole Science of + Government </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER 11. Let Loose </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER 12. Bleeding Heart Yard </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER 13. Patriarchal </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER 14. Little Dorrit’s Party </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER 15. Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER 16. Nobody’s Weakness </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER 17. Nobody’s Rival </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER 18. Little Dorrit’s Lover </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER 19. The Father of the Marshalsea in two + or three Relations </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER 20. Moving in Society </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER 21. Mr Merdle’s Complaint </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER 22. A Puzzle </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER 23. Machinery in Motion </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER 24. Fortune-Telling </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER 25. Conspirators and Others </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER 26. Nobody’s State of Mind </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER 27. Five-and-Twenty </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER 28. Nobody’s Disappearance </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER 29. Mrs Flintwinch goes on Dreaming </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER 30. The Word of a Gentleman </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER 31. Spirit </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER 32. More Fortune-Telling </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER 33. Mrs Merdle’s Complaint </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER 34. A Shoal of Barnacles </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER 35. What was behind Mr Pancks on Little + Dorrit’s Hand </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER 36. The Marshalsea becomes an Orphan </a> + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> <b>BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER 1. Fellow Travellers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER 2. Mrs General </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER 3. On the Road </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER 4. A Letter from Little Dorrit </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER 5. Something Wrong Somewhere </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER 6. Something Right Somewhere </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER 7. Mostly, Prunes and Prism </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER 8. The Dowager Mrs Gowan is reminded that + ‘It Never Does’ </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER 9. Appearance and Disappearance </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER 10. The Dreams of Mrs Flintwinch thicken + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER 11. A Letter from Little Dorrit </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER 12. In which a Great Patriotic Conference + is holden </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER 13. The Progress of an Epidemic </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER 14. Taking Advice </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER 15. No just Cause or Impediment why these + Two Persons </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER 16. Getting on </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER 17. Missing </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER 18. A Castle in the Air </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER 19. The Storming of the Castle in the Air + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER 20. Introduces the next </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER 21. The History of a Self-Tormentor </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER 22. Who passes by this Road so late? </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER 23. Mistress Affery makes a Conditional + Promise, </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0060"> CHAPTER 24. The Evening of a Long Day </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0061"> CHAPTER 25. The Chief Butler Resigns the Seals of + Office </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0062"> CHAPTER 26. Reaping the Whirlwind </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0063"> CHAPTER 27. The Pupil of the Marshalsea </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0064"> CHAPTER 28. An Appearance in the Marshalsea </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0065"> CHAPTER 29. A Plea in the Marshalsea </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0066"> CHAPTER 30. Closing in </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0067"> CHAPTER 31. Closed </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0068"> CHAPTER 32. Going </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0069"> CHAPTER 33. Going! </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0070"> CHAPTER 34. Gone </a> + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE 1857 EDITION +</h2> + + <p class="pfirst"> +<span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have been occupied with this story, during many working hours of two + years. I must have been very ill employed, if I could not leave its merits + and demerits as a whole, to express themselves on its being read as a + whole. But, as it is not unreasonable to suppose that I may have held its + threads with a more continuous attention than anyone else can have given + them during its desultory publication, it is not unreasonable to ask that + the weaving may be looked at in its completed state, and with the pattern + finished. + </p> + <p> + If I might offer any apology for so exaggerated a fiction as the Barnacles + and the Circumlocution Office, I would seek it in the common experience of + an Englishman, without presuming to mention the unimportant fact of my + having done that violence to good manners, in the days of a Russian war, + and of a Court of Inquiry at Chelsea. If I might make so bold as to defend + that extravagant conception, Mr Merdle, I would hint that it originated + after the Railroad-share epoch, in the times of a certain Irish bank, and + of one or two other equally laudable enterprises. If I were to plead + anything in mitigation of the preposterous fancy that a bad design will + sometimes claim to be a good and an expressly religious design, it would + be the curious coincidence that it has been brought to its climax in these + pages, in the days of the public examination of late Directors of a Royal + British Bank. But, I submit myself to suffer judgment to go by default on + all these counts, if need be, and to accept the assurance (on good + authority) that nothing like them was ever known in this land. + </p> + <p> + Some of my readers may have an interest in being informed whether or no + any portions of the Marshalsea Prison are yet standing. I did not know, + myself, until the sixth of this present month, when I went to look. I + found the outer front courtyard, often mentioned here, metamorphosed into + a butter shop; and I then almost gave up every brick of the jail for lost. + Wandering, however, down a certain adjacent ‘Angel Court, leading to + Bermondsey’, I came to ‘Marshalsea Place:’ the houses in which I + recognised, not only as the great block of the former prison, but as + preserving the rooms that arose in my mind’s-eye when I became Little + Dorrit’s biographer. The smallest boy I ever conversed with, carrying the + largest baby I ever saw, offered a supernaturally intelligent explanation + of the locality in its old uses, and was very nearly correct. How this + young Newton (for such I judge him to be) came by his information, I don’t + know; he was a quarter of a century too young to know anything about it of + himself. I pointed to the window of the room where Little Dorrit was born, + and where her father lived so long, and asked him what was the name of the + lodger who tenanted that apartment at present? He said, ‘Tom Pythick.’ I + asked him who was Tom Pythick? and he said, ‘Joe Pythick’s uncle.’ + </p> + <p> + A little further on, I found the older and smaller wall, which used to + enclose the pent-up inner prison where nobody was put, except for + ceremony. But, whosoever goes into Marshalsea Place, turning out of Angel + Court, leading to Bermondsey, will find his feet on the very paving-stones + of the extinct Marshalsea jail; will see its narrow yard to the right and + to the left, very little altered if at all, except that the walls were + lowered when the place got free; will look upon rooms in which the debtors + lived; and will stand among the crowding ghosts of many miserable years. + </p> + <p> + In the Preface to Bleak House I remarked that I had never had so many + readers. In the Preface to its next successor, Little Dorrit, I have still + to repeat the same words. Deeply sensible of the affection and confidence + that have grown up between us, I add to this Preface, as I added to that, + May we meet again! + </p> + <p> + London May 1857 + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK THE FIRST: POVERTY + </h2> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 1. Sun and Shadow +</h2> + <p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hirty years ago, Marseilles lay burning in the sun, one day. + </p> + <p> + A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater rarity in southern + France then, than at any other time, before or since. Everything in + Marseilles, and about Marseilles, had stared at the fervid sky, and been + stared at in return, until a staring habit had become universal there. + Strangers were stared out of countenance by staring white houses, staring + white walls, staring white streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring + hills from which verdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not + fixedly staring and glaring were the vines drooping under their load of + grapes. These did occasionally wink a little, as the hot air barely moved + their faint leaves. + </p> + <p> + There was no wind to make a ripple on the foul water within the harbour, + or on the beautiful sea without. The line of demarcation between the two + colours, black and blue, showed the point which the pure sea would not + pass; but it lay as quiet as the abominable pool, with which it never + mixed. Boats without awnings were too hot to touch; ships blistered at + their moorings; the stones of the quays had not cooled, night or day, for + months. Hindoos, Russians, Chinese, Spaniards, Portuguese, Englishmen, + Frenchmen, Genoese, Neapolitans, Venetians, Greeks, Turks, descendants + from all the builders of Babel, come to trade at Marseilles, sought the + shade alike—taking refuge in any hiding-place from a sea too + intensely blue to be looked at, and a sky of purple, set with one great + flaming jewel of fire. + </p> + <p> + The universal stare made the eyes ache. Towards the distant line of + Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved by light clouds of mist, + slowly rising from the evaporation of the sea, but it softened nowhere + else. Far away the staring roads, deep in dust, stared from the hill-side, + stared from the hollow, stared from the interminable plain. Far away the + dusty vines overhanging wayside cottages, and the monotonous wayside + avenues of parched trees without shade, drooped beneath the stare of earth + and sky. So did the horses with drowsy bells, in long files of carts, + creeping slowly towards the interior; so did their recumbent drivers, when + they were awake, which rarely happened; so did the exhausted labourers in + the fields. Everything that lived or grew, was oppressed by the glare; + except the lizard, passing swiftly over rough stone walls, and the cicala, + chirping his dry hot chirp, like a rattle. The very dust was scorched + brown, and something quivered in the atmosphere as if the air itself were + panting. + </p> + <p> + Blinds, shutters, curtains, awnings, were all closed and drawn to keep out + the stare. Grant it but a chink or keyhole, and it shot in like a + white-hot arrow. The churches were the freest from it. To come out of the + twilight of pillars and arches—dreamily dotted with winking lamps, + dreamily peopled with ugly old shadows piously dozing, spitting, and + begging—was to plunge into a fiery river, and swim for life to the + nearest strip of shade. So, with people lounging and lying wherever shade + was, with but little hum of tongues or barking of dogs, with occasional + jangling of discordant church bells and rattling of vicious drums, + Marseilles, a fact to be strongly smelt and tasted, lay broiling in the + sun one day. + </p> + <p> + In Marseilles that day there was a villainous prison. In one of its + chambers, so repulsive a place that even the obtrusive stare blinked at + it, and left it to such refuse of reflected light as it could find for + itself, were two men. Besides the two men, a notched and disfigured bench, + immovable from the wall, with a draught-board rudely hacked upon it with a + knife, a set of draughts, made of old buttons and soup bones, a set of + dominoes, two mats, and two or three wine bottles. That was all the + chamber held, exclusive of rats and other unseen vermin, in addition to + the seen vermin, the two men. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0027m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0027m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0027.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + + <p> + It received such light as it got through a grating of iron bars fashioned + like a pretty large window, by means of which it could be always inspected + from the gloomy staircase on which the grating gave. There was a broad + strong ledge of stone to this grating where the bottom of it was let into + the masonry, three or four feet above the ground. Upon it, one of the two + men lolled, half sitting and half lying, with his knees drawn up, and his + feet and shoulders planted against the opposite sides of the aperture. The + bars were wide enough apart to admit of his thrusting his arm through to + the elbow; and so he held on negligently, for his greater ease. + </p> + <p> + A prison taint was on everything there. The imprisoned air, the imprisoned + light, the imprisoned damps, the imprisoned men, were all deteriorated by + confinement. As the captive men were faded and haggard, so the iron was + rusty, the stone was slimy, the wood was rotten, the air was faint, the + light was dim. Like a well, like a vault, like a tomb, the prison had no + knowledge of the brightness outside, and would have kept its polluted + atmosphere intact in one of the spice islands of the Indian ocean. + </p> + <p> + The man who lay on the ledge of the grating was even chilled. He jerked + his great cloak more heavily upon him by an impatient movement of one + shoulder, and growled, ‘To the devil with this Brigand of a Sun that never + shines in here!’ + </p> + <p> + He was waiting to be fed, looking sideways through the bars that he might + see the further down the stairs, with much of the expression of a wild + beast in similar expectation. But his eyes, too close together, were not + so nobly set in his head as those of the king of beasts are in his, and + they were sharp rather than bright—pointed weapons with little + surface to betray them. They had no depth or change; they glittered, and + they opened and shut. So far, and waiving their use to himself, a + clockmaker could have made a better pair. He had a hook nose, handsome + after its kind, but too high between the eyes by probably just as much as + his eyes were too near to one another. For the rest, he was large and tall + in frame, had thin lips, where his thick moustache showed them at all, and + a quantity of dry hair, of no definable colour, in its shaggy state, but + shot with red. The hand with which he held the grating (seamed all over + the back with ugly scratches newly healed), was unusually small and plump; + would have been unusually white but for the prison grime. + </p> + <p> + The other man was lying on the stone floor, covered with a coarse brown + coat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Get up, pig!’ growled the first. ‘Don’t sleep when I am hungry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all one, master,’ said the pig, in a submissive manner, and not + without cheerfulness; ‘I can wake when I will, I can sleep when I will. + It’s all the same.’ + </p> + <p> + As he said it, he rose, shook himself, scratched himself, tied his brown + coat loosely round his neck by the sleeves (he had previously used it as a + coverlet), and sat down upon the pavement yawning, with his back against + the wall opposite to the grating. + </p> + <p> + ‘Say what the hour is,’ grumbled the first man. + </p> + <p> + ‘The mid-day bells will ring—in forty minutes.’ When he made the + little pause, he had looked round the prison-room, as if for certain + information. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a clock. How is it that you always know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I say? I always know what the hour is, and where I am. I was + brought in here at night, and out of a boat, but I know where I am. See + here! Marseilles harbour;’ on his knees on the pavement, mapping it all + out with a swarthy forefinger; ‘Toulon (where the galleys are), Spain over + there, Algiers over <i>there</i>. Creeping away to the left here, Nice. + Round by the Cornice to Genoa. Genoa Mole and Harbour. Quarantine Ground. + City there; terrace gardens blushing with the bella donna. Here, Porto + Fino. Stand out for Leghorn. Out again for Civita Vecchia, so away to—hey! + there’s no room for Naples;’ he had got to the wall by this time; ‘but + it’s all one; it’s in there!’ + </p> + <p> + He remained on his knees, looking up at his fellow-prisoner with a lively + look for a prison. A sunburnt, quick, lithe, little man, though rather + thickset. Earrings in his brown ears, white teeth lighting up his + grotesque brown face, intensely black hair clustering about his brown + throat, a ragged red shirt open at his brown breast. Loose, seaman-like + trousers, decent shoes, a long red cap, a red sash round his waist, and a + knife in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Judge if I come back from Naples as I went! See here, my master! Civita + Vecchia, Leghorn, Porto Fino, Genoa, Cornice, Off Nice (which is in + there), Marseilles, you and me. The apartment of the jailer and his keys + is where I put this thumb; and here at my wrist they keep the national + razor in its case—the guillotine locked up.’ + </p> + <p> + The other man spat suddenly on the pavement, and gurgled in his throat. + </p> + <p> + Some lock below gurgled in <i>its</i> throat immediately afterwards, and + then a door crashed. Slow steps began ascending the stairs; the prattle of + a sweet little voice mingled with the noise they made; and the + prison-keeper appeared carrying his daughter, three or four years old, and + a basket. + </p> + <p> + ‘How goes the world this forenoon, gentlemen? My little one, you see, + going round with me to have a peep at her father’s birds. Fie, then! Look + at the birds, my pretty, look at the birds.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked sharply at the birds himself, as he held the child up at the + grate, especially at the little bird, whose activity he seemed to + mistrust. ‘I have brought your bread, Signor John Baptist,’ said he (they + all spoke in French, but the little man was an Italian); ‘and if I might + recommend you not to game—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t recommend the master!’ said John Baptist, showing his teeth as + he smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! but the master wins,’ returned the jailer, with a passing look of no + particular liking at the other man, ‘and you lose. It’s quite another + thing. You get husky bread and sour drink by it; and he gets sausage of + Lyons, veal in savoury jelly, white bread, strachino cheese, and good wine + by it. Look at the birds, my pretty!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor birds!’ said the child. + </p> + <p> + The fair little face, touched with divine compassion, as it peeped + shrinkingly through the grate, was like an angel’s in the prison. John + Baptist rose and moved towards it, as if it had a good attraction for him. + The other bird remained as before, except for an impatient glance at the + basket. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay!’ said the jailer, putting his little daughter on the outer ledge of + the grate, ‘she shall feed the birds. This big loaf is for Signor John + Baptist. We must break it to get it through into the cage. So, there’s a + tame bird to kiss the little hand! This sausage in a vine leaf is for + Monsieur Rigaud. Again—this veal in savoury jelly is for Monsieur + Rigaud. Again—these three white little loaves are for Monsieur + Rigaud. Again, this cheese—again, this wine—again, this + tobacco—all for Monsieur Rigaud. Lucky bird!’ + </p> + <p> + The child put all these things between the bars into the soft, Smooth, + well-shaped hand, with evident dread—more than once drawing back her + own and looking at the man with her fair brow roughened into an expression + half of fright and half of anger. Whereas she had put the lump of coarse + bread into the swart, scaled, knotted hands of John Baptist (who had + scarcely as much nail on his eight fingers and two thumbs as would have + made out one for Monsieur Rigaud), with ready confidence; and, when he + kissed her hand, had herself passed it caressingly over his face. Monsieur + Rigaud, indifferent to this distinction, propitiated the father by + laughing and nodding at the daughter as often as she gave him anything; + and, so soon as he had all his viands about him in convenient nooks of the + ledge on which he rested, began to eat with an appetite. + </p> + <p> + When Monsieur Rigaud laughed, a change took place in his face, that was + more remarkable than prepossessing. His moustache went up under his nose, + and his nose came down over his moustache, in a very sinister and cruel + manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said the jailer, turning his basket upside down to beat the + crumbs out, ‘I have expended all the money I received; here is the note of + it, and <i>that’s</i> a thing accomplished. Monsieur Rigaud, as I expected + yesterday, the President will look for the pleasure of your society at an + hour after mid-day, to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To try me, eh?’ said Rigaud, pausing, knife in hand and morsel in mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have said it. To try you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no news for me?’ asked John Baptist, who had begun, contentedly, + to munch his bread. + </p> + <p> + The jailer shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lady of mine! Am I to lie here all my life, my father?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do I know!’ cried the jailer, turning upon him with southern + quickness, and gesticulating with both his hands and all his fingers, as + if he were threatening to tear him to pieces. ‘My friend, how is it + possible for me to tell how long you are to lie here? What do I know, John + Baptist Cavalletto? Death of my life! There are prisoners here sometimes, + who are not in such a devil of a hurry to be tried.’ + </p> + <p> + He seemed to glance obliquely at Monsieur Rigaud in this remark; but + Monsieur Rigaud had already resumed his meal, though not with quite so + quick an appetite as before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Adieu, my birds!’ said the keeper of the prison, taking his pretty child + in his arms, and dictating the words with a kiss. + </p> + <p> + ‘Adieu, my birds!’ the pretty child repeated. + </p> + <p> + Her innocent face looked back so brightly over his shoulder, as he walked + away with her, singing her the song of the child’s game: + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine! + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + that John Baptist felt it a point of honour to reply at the grate, and in + good time and tune, though a little hoarsely: + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Of all the king’s knights ‘tis the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine! + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Of all the king’s knights ‘tis the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + Which accompanied them so far down the few steep stairs, that the + prison-keeper had to stop at last for his little daughter to hear the song + out, and repeat the Refrain while they were yet in sight. Then the child’s + head disappeared, and the prison-keeper’s head disappeared, but the little + voice prolonged the strain until the door clashed. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rigaud, finding the listening John Baptist in his way before the + echoes had ceased (even the echoes were the weaker for imprisonment, and + seemed to lag), reminded him with a push of his foot that he had better + resume his own darker place. The little man sat down again upon the + pavement with the negligent ease of one who was thoroughly accustomed to + pavements; and placing three hunks of coarse bread before himself, and + falling to upon a fourth, began contentedly to work his way through them + as if to clear them off were a sort of game. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he glanced at the Lyons sausage, and perhaps he glanced at the + veal in savoury jelly, but they were not there long, to make his mouth + water; Monsieur Rigaud soon dispatched them, in spite of the president and + tribunal, and proceeded to suck his fingers as clean as he could, and to + wipe them on his vine leaves. Then, as he paused in his drink to + contemplate his fellow-prisoner, his moustache went up, and his nose came + down. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you find the bread?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A little dry, but I have my old sauce here,’ returned John Baptist, + holding up his knife. + </p> + <p> + ‘How sauce?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can cut my bread so—like a melon. Or so—like an omelette. + Or so—like a fried fish. Or so—like Lyons sausage,’ said John + Baptist, demonstrating the various cuts on the bread he held, and soberly + chewing what he had in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here!’ cried Monsieur Rigaud. ‘You may drink. You may finish this.’ + </p> + <p> + It was no great gift, for there was mighty little wine left; but Signor + Cavalletto, jumping to his feet, received the bottle gratefully, turned it + upside down at his mouth, and smacked his lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Put the bottle by with the rest,’ said Rigaud. + </p> + <p> + The little man obeyed his orders, and stood ready to give him a lighted + match; for he was now rolling his tobacco into cigarettes by the aid of + little squares of paper which had been brought in with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here! You may have one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A thousand thanks, my master!’ John Baptist said in his own language, and + with the quick conciliatory manner of his own countrymen. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rigaud arose, lighted a cigarette, put the rest of his stock into + a breast-pocket, and stretched himself out at full length upon the bench. + Cavalletto sat down on the pavement, holding one of his ankles in each + hand, and smoking peacefully. There seemed to be some uncomfortable + attraction of Monsieur Rigaud’s eyes to the immediate neighbourhood of + that part of the pavement where the thumb had been in the plan. They were + so drawn in that direction, that the Italian more than once followed them + to and back from the pavement in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + ‘What an infernal hole this is!’ said Monsieur Rigaud, breaking a long + pause. ‘Look at the light of day. Day? the light of yesterday week, the + light of six months ago, the light of six years ago. So slack and dead!’ + </p> + <p> + It came languishing down a square funnel that blinded a window in the + staircase wall, through which the sky was never seen—nor anything + else. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cavalletto,’ said Monsieur Rigaud, suddenly withdrawing his gaze from + this funnel to which they had both involuntarily turned their eyes, ‘you + know me for a gentleman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, surely!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How long have we been here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I, eleven weeks, to-morrow night at midnight. You, nine weeks and three + days, at five this afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have I ever done anything here? Ever touched the broom, or spread the + mats, or rolled them up, or found the draughts, or collected the dominoes, + or put my hand to any kind of work?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you ever thought of looking to me to do any kind of work?’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist answered with that peculiar back-handed shake of the right + forefinger which is the most expressive negative in the Italian language. + </p> + <p> + ‘No! You knew from the first moment when you saw me here, that I was a + gentleman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘ALTRO!’ returned John Baptist, closing his eyes and giving his head a + most vehement toss. The word being, according to its Genoese emphasis, a + confirmation, a contradiction, an assertion, a denial, a taunt, a + compliment, a joke, and fifty other things, became in the present + instance, with a significance beyond all power of written expression, our + familiar English ‘I believe you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Haha! You are right! A gentleman I am! And a gentleman I’ll live, and a + gentleman I’ll die! It’s my intent to be a gentleman. It’s my game. Death + of my soul, I play it out wherever I go!’ + </p> + <p> + He changed his posture to a sitting one, crying with a triumphant air: + </p> + <p> + ‘Here I am! See me! Shaken out of destiny’s dice-box into the company of a + mere smuggler;—shut up with a poor little contraband trader, whose + papers are wrong, and whom the police lay hold of besides, for placing his + boat (as a means of getting beyond the frontier) at the disposition of + other little people whose papers are wrong; and he instinctively + recognises my position, even by this light and in this place. It’s well + done! By Heaven! I win, however the game goes.’ + </p> + <p> + Again his moustache went up, and his nose came down. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the hour now?’ he asked, with a dry hot pallor upon him, rather + difficult of association with merriment. + </p> + <p> + ‘A little half-hour after mid-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good! The President will have a gentleman before him soon. Come! Shall I + tell you on what accusation? It must be now, or never, for I shall not + return here. Either I shall go free, or I shall go to be made ready for + shaving. You know where they keep the razor.’ + </p> + <p> + Signor Cavalletto took his cigarette from between his parted lips, and + showed more momentary discomfiture than might have been expected. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am a’—Monsieur Rigaud stood up to say it—‘I am a + cosmopolitan gentleman. I own no particular country. My father was Swiss—Canton + de Vaud. My mother was French by blood, English by birth. I myself was + born in Belgium. I am a citizen of the world.’ + </p> + <p> + His theatrical air, as he stood with one arm on his hip within the folds + of his cloak, together with his manner of disregarding his companion and + addressing the opposite wall instead, seemed to intimate that he was + rehearsing for the President, whose examination he was shortly to undergo, + rather than troubling himself merely to enlighten so small a person as + John Baptist Cavalletto. + </p> + <p> + ‘Call me five-and-thirty years of age. I have seen the world. I have lived + here, and lived there, and lived like a gentleman everywhere. I have been + treated and respected as a gentleman universally. If you try to prejudice + me by making out that I have lived by my wits—how do your lawyers + live—your politicians—your intriguers—your men of the + Exchange?’ + </p> + <p> + He kept his small smooth hand in constant requisition, as if it were a + witness to his gentility that had often done him good service before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Two years ago I came to Marseilles. I admit that I was poor; I had been + ill. When your lawyers, your politicians, your intriguers, your men of the + Exchange fall ill, and have not scraped money together, <i>they</i> become + poor. I put up at the Cross of Gold,—kept then by Monsieur Henri + Barronneau—sixty-five at least, and in a failing state of health. I + had lived in the house some four months when Monsieur Henri Barronneau had + the misfortune to die;—at any rate, not a rare misfortune, that. It + happens without any aid of mine, pretty often.’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist having smoked his cigarette down to his fingers’ ends, + Monsieur Rigaud had the magnanimity to throw him another. He lighted the + second at the ashes of the first, and smoked on, looking sideways at his + companion, who, preoccupied with his own case, hardly looked at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur Barronneau left a widow. She was two-and-twenty. She had gained + a reputation for beauty, and (which is often another thing) was beautiful. + I continued to live at the Cross of Gold. I married Madame Barronneau. It + is not for me to say whether there was any great disparity in such a + match. Here I stand, with the contamination of a jail upon me; but it is + possible that you may think me better suited to her than her former + husband was.’ + </p> + <p> + He had a certain air of being a handsome man—which he was not; and a + certain air of being a well-bred man—which he was not. It was mere + swagger and challenge; but in this particular, as in many others, + blustering assertion goes for proof, half over the world. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be it as it may, Madame Barronneau approved of me. <i>That</i> is not to + prejudice me, I hope?’ + </p> + <p> + His eye happening to light upon John Baptist with this inquiry, that + little man briskly shook his head in the negative, and repeated in an + argumentative tone under his breath, altro, altro, altro, altro—an + infinite number of times. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now came the difficulties of our position. I am proud. I say nothing in + defence of pride, but I am proud. It is also my character to govern. I + can’t submit; I must govern. Unfortunately, the property of Madame Rigaud + was settled upon herself. Such was the insane act of her late husband. + More unfortunately still, she had relations. When a wife’s relations + interpose against a husband who is a gentleman, who is proud, and who must + govern, the consequences are inimical to peace. There was yet another + source of difference between us. Madame Rigaud was unfortunately a little + vulgar. I sought to improve her manners and ameliorate her general tone; + she (supported in this likewise by her relations) resented my endeavours. + Quarrels began to arise between us; and, propagated and exaggerated by the + slanders of the relations of Madame Rigaud, to become notorious to the + neighbours. It has been said that I treated Madame Rigaud with cruelty. I + may have been seen to slap her face—nothing more. I have a light + hand; and if I have been seen apparently to correct Madame Rigaud in that + manner, I have done it almost playfully.’ + </p> + <p> + If the playfulness of Monsieur Rigaud were at all expressed by his smile + at this point, the relations of Madame Rigaud might have said that they + would have much preferred his correcting that unfortunate woman seriously. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sensitive and brave. I do not advance it as a merit to be sensitive + and brave, but it is my character. If the male relations of Madame Rigaud + had put themselves forward openly, I should have known how to deal with + them. They knew that, and their machinations were conducted in secret; + consequently, Madame Rigaud and I were brought into frequent and + unfortunate collision. Even when I wanted any little sum of money for my + personal expenses, I could not obtain it without collision—and I, + too, a man whose character it is to govern! One night, Madame Rigaud and + myself were walking amicably—I may say like lovers—on a height + overhanging the sea. An evil star occasioned Madame Rigaud to advert to + her relations; I reasoned with her on that subject, and remonstrated on + the want of duty and devotion manifested in her allowing herself to be + influenced by their jealous animosity towards her husband. Madame Rigaud + retorted; I retorted; Madame Rigaud grew warm; I grew warm, and provoked + her. I admit it. Frankness is a part of my character. At length, Madame + Rigaud, in an access of fury that I must ever deplore, threw herself upon + me with screams of passion (no doubt those that were overheard at some + distance), tore my clothes, tore my hair, lacerated my hands, trampled and + trod the dust, and finally leaped over, dashing herself to death upon the + rocks below. Such is the train of incidents which malice has perverted + into my endeavouring to force from Madame Rigaud a relinquishment of her + rights; and, on her persistence in a refusal to make the concession I + required, struggling with her—assassinating her!’ + </p> + <p> + He stepped aside to the ledge where the vine leaves yet lay strewn about, + collected two or three, and stood wiping his hands upon them, with his + back to the light. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ he demanded after a silence, ‘have you nothing to say to all + that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s ugly,’ returned the little man, who had risen, and was brightening + his knife upon his shoe, as he leaned an arm against the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean?’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist polished his knife in silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean that I have not represented the case correctly?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Al-tro!’ returned John Baptist. The word was an apology now, and stood + for ‘Oh, by no means!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Presidents and tribunals are so prejudiced.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ cried the other, uneasily flinging the end of his cloak over his + shoulder with an oath, ‘let them do their worst!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Truly I think they will,’ murmured John Baptist to himself, as he bent + his head to put his knife in his sash. + </p> + <p> + Nothing more was said on either side, though they both began walking to + and fro, and necessarily crossed at every turn. Monsieur Rigaud sometimes + stopped, as if he were going to put his case in a new light, or make some + irate remonstrance; but Signor Cavalletto continuing to go slowly to and + fro at a grotesque kind of jog-trot pace with his eyes turned downward, + nothing came of these inclinings. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by the noise of the key in the lock arrested them both. The sound + of voices succeeded, and the tread of feet. The door clashed, the voices + and the feet came on, and the prison-keeper slowly ascended the stairs, + followed by a guard of soldiers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Monsieur Rigaud,’ said he, pausing for a moment at the grate, with + his keys in his hands, ‘have the goodness to come out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am to depart in state, I see?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, unless you did,’ returned the jailer, ‘you might depart in so many + pieces that it would be difficult to get you together again. There’s a + crowd, Monsieur Rigaud, and it doesn’t love you.’ + </p> + <p> + He passed on out of sight, and unlocked and unbarred a low door in the + corner of the chamber. ‘Now,’ said he, as he opened it and appeared + within, ‘come out.’ + </p> + <p> + There is no sort of whiteness in all the hues under the sun at all like + the whiteness of Monsieur Rigaud’s face as it was then. Neither is there + any expression of the human countenance at all like that expression in + every little line of which the frightened heart is seen to beat. Both are + conventionally compared with death; but the difference is the whole deep + gulf between the struggle done, and the fight at its most desperate + extremity. + </p> + <p> + He lighted another of his paper cigars at his companion’s; put it tightly + between his teeth; covered his head with a soft slouched hat; threw the + end of his cloak over his shoulder again; and walked out into the side + gallery on which the door opened, without taking any further notice of + Signor Cavalletto. As to that little man himself, his whole attention had + become absorbed in getting near the door and looking out at it. Precisely + as a beast might approach the opened gate of his den and eye the freedom + beyond, he passed those few moments in watching and peering, until the + door was closed upon him. + </p> + <p> + There was an officer in command of the soldiers; a stout, serviceable, + profoundly calm man, with his drawn sword in his hand, smoking a cigar. He + very briefly directed the placing of Monsieur Rigaud in the midst of the + party, put himself with consummate indifference at their head, gave the + word ‘march!’ and so they all went jingling down the staircase. The door + clashed—the key turned—and a ray of unusual light, and a + breath of unusual air, seemed to have passed through the jail, vanishing + in a tiny wreath of smoke from the cigar. + </p> + <p> + Still, in his captivity, like a lower animal—like some impatient + ape, or roused bear of the smaller species—the prisoner, now left + solitary, had jumped upon the ledge, to lose no glimpse of this departure. + As he yet stood clasping the grate with both hands, an uproar broke upon + his hearing; yells, shrieks, oaths, threats, execrations, all comprehended + in it, though (as in a storm) nothing but a raging swell of sound + distinctly heard. + </p> + <p> + Excited into a still greater resemblance to a caged wild animal by his + anxiety to know more, the prisoner leaped nimbly down, ran round the + chamber, leaped nimbly up again, clasped the grate and tried to shake it, + leaped down and ran, leaped up and listened, and never rested until the + noise, becoming more and more distant, had died away. How many better + prisoners have worn their noble hearts out so; no man thinking of it; not + even the beloved of their souls realising it; great kings and governors, + who had made them captive, careering in the sunlight jauntily, and men + cheering them on. Even the said great personages dying in bed, making + exemplary ends and sounding speeches; and polite history, more servile + than their instruments, embalming them! + </p> + <p> + At last, John Baptist, now able to choose his own spot within the compass + of those walls for the exercise of his faculty of going to sleep when he + would, lay down upon the bench, with his face turned over on his crossed + arms, and slumbered. In his submission, in his lightness, in his good + humour, in his short-lived passion, in his easy contentment with hard + bread and hard stones, in his ready sleep, in his fits and starts, + altogether a true son of the land that gave him birth. + </p> + <p> + The wide stare stared itself out for one while; the Sun went down in a + red, green, golden glory; the stars came out in the heavens, and the + fire-flies mimicked them in the lower air, as men may feebly imitate the + goodness of a better order of beings; the long dusty roads and the + interminable plains were in repose—and so deep a hush was on the + sea, that it scarcely whispered of the time when it shall give up its + dead. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0002"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 2 Fellow Travellers + </h2> + <p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span> + o more of yesterday’s howling over yonder to-day, Sir; is there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard none.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you may be sure there <i>is</i> none. When these people howl, they + howl to be heard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Most people do, I suppose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! but these people are always howling. Never happy otherwise.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean the Marseilles people?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean the French people. They’re always at it. As to Marseilles, we know + what Marseilles is. It sent the most insurrectionary tune into the world + that was ever composed. It couldn’t exist without allonging and + marshonging to something or other—victory or death, or blazes, or + something.’ + </p> + <p> + The speaker, with a whimsical good humour upon him all the time, looked + over the parapet-wall with the greatest disparagement of Marseilles; and + taking up a determined position by putting his hands in his pockets and + rattling his money at it, apostrophised it with a short laugh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Allong and marshong, indeed. It would be more creditable to you, I think, + to let other people allong and marshong about their lawful business, + instead of shutting ‘em up in quarantine!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tiresome enough,’ said the other. ‘But we shall be out to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out to-day!’ repeated the first. ‘It’s almost an aggravation of the + enormity, that we shall be out to-day. Out! What have we ever been in + for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For no very strong reason, I must say. But as we come from the East, and + as the East is the country of the plague—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The plague!’ repeated the other. ‘That’s my grievance. I have had the + plague continually, ever since I have been here. I am like a sane man shut + up in a madhouse; I can’t stand the suspicion of the thing. I came here as + well as ever I was in my life; but to suspect me of the plague is to give + me the plague. And I have had it—and I have got it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You bear it very well, Mr Meagles,’ said the second speaker, smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. If you knew the real state of the case, that’s the last observation + you would think of making. I have been waking up night after night, and + saying, <i>now</i> I have got it, <i>now</i> it has developed itself, <i>now</i> + I am in for it, <i>now</i> these fellows are making out their case for + their precautions. Why, I’d as soon have a spit put through me, and be + stuck upon a card in a collection of beetles, as lead the life I have been + leading here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Mr Meagles, say no more about it now it’s over,’ urged a cheerful + feminine voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Over!’ repeated Mr Meagles, who appeared (though without any ill-nature) + to be in that peculiar state of mind in which the last word spoken by + anybody else is a new injury. ‘Over! and why should I say no more about it + because it’s over?’ + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs Meagles who had spoken to Mr Meagles; and Mrs Meagles was, like + Mr Meagles, comely and healthy, with a pleasant English face which had + been looking at homely things for five-and-fifty years or more, and shone + with a bright reflection of them. + </p> + <p> + ‘There! Never mind, Father, never mind!’ said Mrs Meagles. ‘For goodness + sake content yourself with Pet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With Pet?’ repeated Mr Meagles in his injured vein. Pet, however, being + close behind him, touched him on the shoulder, and Mr Meagles immediately + forgave Marseilles from the bottom of his heart. + </p> + <p> + Pet was about twenty. A fair girl with rich brown hair hanging free in + natural ringlets. A lovely girl, with a frank face, and wonderful eyes; so + large, so soft, so bright, set to such perfection in her kind good head. + She was round and fresh and dimpled and spoilt, and there was in Pet an + air of timidity and dependence which was the best weakness in the world, + and gave her the only crowning charm a girl so pretty and pleasant could + have been without. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I ask you,’ said Mr Meagles in the blandest confidence, falling back + a step himself, and handing his daughter a step forward to illustrate his + question: ‘I ask you simply, as between man and man, you know, DID you + ever hear of such damned nonsense as putting Pet in quarantine?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It has had the result of making even quarantine enjoyable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘that’s something to be sure. I am obliged to you + for that remark. Now, Pet, my darling, you had better go along with Mother + and get ready for the boat. The officer of health, and a variety of + humbugs in cocked hats, are coming off to let us out of this at last: and + all we jail-birds are to breakfast together in something approaching to a + Christian style again, before we take wing for our different destinations. + Tattycoram, stick you close to your young mistress.’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke to a handsome girl with lustrous dark hair and eyes, and very + neatly dressed, who replied with a half curtsey as she passed off in the + train of Mrs Meagles and Pet. They crossed the bare scorched terrace all + three together, and disappeared through a staring white archway. Mr + Meagles’s companion, a grave dark man of forty, still stood looking + towards this archway after they were gone; until Mr Meagles tapped him on + the arm. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ said he, starting. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + They took one silent turn backward and forward in the shade of the wall, + getting, at the height on which the quarantine barracks are placed, what + cool refreshment of sea breeze there was at seven in the morning. Mr + Meagles’s companion resumed the conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask you,’ he said, ‘what is the name of—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tattycoram?’ Mr Meagles struck in. ‘I have not the least idea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought,’ said the other, ‘that—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tattycoram?’ suggested Mr Meagles again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you—that Tattycoram was a name; and I have several times + wondered at the oddity of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, the fact is,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘Mrs Meagles and myself are, you see, + practical people.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That you have frequently mentioned in the course of the agreeable and + interesting conversations we have had together, walking up and down on + these stones,’ said the other, with a half smile breaking through the + gravity of his dark face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Practical people. So one day, five or six years ago now, when we took Pet + to church at the Foundling—you have heard of the Foundling Hospital + in London? Similar to the Institution for the Found Children in Paris?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have seen it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! One day when we took Pet to church there to hear the music—because, + as practical people, it is the business of our lives to show her + everything that we think can please her—Mother (my usual name for + Mrs Meagles) began to cry so, that it was necessary to take her out. + “What’s the matter, Mother?” said I, when we had brought her a little + round: “you are frightening Pet, my dear.” “Yes, I know that, Father,” + says Mother, “but I think it’s through my loving her so much, that it ever + came into my head.” “That ever what came into your head, Mother?” “O dear, + dear!” cried Mother, breaking out again, “when I saw all those children + ranged tier above tier, and appealing from the father none of them has + ever known on earth, to the great Father of us all in Heaven, I thought, + does any wretched mother ever come here, and look among those young faces, + wondering which is the poor child she brought into this forlorn world, + never through all its life to know her love, her kiss, her face, her + voice, even her name!” Now that was practical in Mother, and I told her + so. I said, “Mother, that’s what I call practical in you, my dear.”’ + </p> + <p> + The other, not unmoved, assented. + </p> + <p> + ‘So I said next day: Now, Mother, I have a proposition to make that I + think you’ll approve of. Let us take one of those same little children to + be a little maid to Pet. We are practical people. So if we should find her + temper a little defective, or any of her ways a little wide of ours, we + shall know what we have to take into account. We shall know what an + immense deduction must be made from all the influences and experiences + that have formed us—no parents, no child-brother or sister, no + individuality of home, no Glass Slipper, or Fairy Godmother. And that’s + the way we came by Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the name itself—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By George!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘I was forgetting the name itself. Why, she + was called in the Institution, Harriet Beadle—an arbitrary name, of + course. Now, Harriet we changed into Hattey, and then into Tatty, because, + as practical people, we thought even a playful name might be a new thing + to her, and might have a softening and affectionate kind of effect, don’t + you see? As to Beadle, that I needn’t say was wholly out of the question. + If there is anything that is not to be tolerated on any terms, anything + that is a type of Jack-in-office insolence and absurdity, anything that + represents in coats, waistcoats, and big sticks our English holding on by + nonsense after every one has found it out, it is a beadle. You haven’t + seen a beadle lately?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As an Englishman who has been more than twenty years in China, no.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ said Mr Meagles, laying his forefinger on his companion’s breast + with great animation, ‘don’t you see a beadle, now, if you can help it. + Whenever I see a beadle in full fig, coming down a street on a Sunday at + the head of a charity school, I am obliged to turn and run away, or I + should hit him. The name of Beadle being out of the question, and the + originator of the Institution for these poor foundlings having been a + blessed creature of the name of Coram, we gave that name to Pet’s little + maid. At one time she was Tatty, and at one time she was Coram, until we + got into a way of mixing the two names together, and now she is always + Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your daughter,’ said the other, when they had taken another silent turn + to and fro, and, after standing for a moment at the wall glancing down at + the sea, had resumed their walk, ‘is your only child, I know, Mr Meagles. + May I ask you—in no impertinent curiosity, but because I have had so + much pleasure in your society, may never in this labyrinth of a world + exchange a quiet word with you again, and wish to preserve an accurate + remembrance of you and yours—may I ask you, if I have not gathered + from your good wife that you have had other children?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. No,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Not exactly other children. One other child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid I have inadvertently touched upon a tender theme.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘If I am grave about it, I am not at all + sorrowful. It quiets me for a moment, but does not make me unhappy. Pet + had a twin sister who died when we could just see her eyes—exactly + like Pet’s—above the table, as she stood on tiptoe holding by it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! indeed, indeed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, and being practical people, a result has gradually sprung up in the + minds of Mrs Meagles and myself which perhaps you may—or perhaps you + may not—understand. Pet and her baby sister were so exactly alike, + and so completely one, that in our thoughts we have never been able to + separate them since. It would be of no use to tell us that our dead child + was a mere infant. We have changed that child according to the changes in + the child spared to us and always with us. As Pet has grown, that child + has grown; as Pet has become more sensible and womanly, her sister has + become more sensible and womanly by just the same degrees. It would be as + hard to convince me that if I was to pass into the other world to-morrow, + I should not, through the mercy of God, be received there by a daughter, + just like Pet, as to persuade me that Pet herself is not a reality at my + side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I understand you,’ said the other, gently. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to her,’ pursued her father, ‘the sudden loss of her little picture + and playfellow, and her early association with that mystery in which we + all have our equal share, but which is not often so forcibly presented to + a child, has necessarily had some influence on her character. Then, her + mother and I were not young when we married, and Pet has always had a sort + of grown-up life with us, though we have tried to adapt ourselves to her. + We have been advised more than once when she has been a little ailing, to + change climate and air for her as often as we could—especially at + about this time of her life—and to keep her amused. So, as I have no + need to stick at a bank-desk now (though I have been poor enough in my + time I assure you, or I should have married Mrs Meagles long before), we + go trotting about the world. This is how you found us staring at the Nile, + and the Pyramids, and the Sphinxes, and the Desert, and all the rest of + it; and this is how Tattycoram will be a greater traveller in course of + time than Captain Cook.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thank you,’ said the other, ‘very heartily for your confidence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t mention it,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘I am sure you are quite welcome. + And now, Mr Clennam, perhaps I may ask you whether you have yet come to a + decision where to go next?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, no. I am such a waif and stray everywhere, that I am liable to be + drifted where any current may set.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s extraordinary to me—if you’ll excuse my freedom in saying so—that + you don’t go straight to London,’ said Mr Meagles, in the tone of a + confidential adviser. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I shall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay! But I mean with a will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no will. That is to say,’—he coloured a little,—‘next + to none that I can put in action now. Trained by main force; broken, not + bent; heavily ironed with an object on which I was never consulted and + which was never mine; shipped away to the other end of the world before I + was of age, and exiled there until my father’s death there, a year ago; + always grinding in a mill I always hated; what is to be expected from me + in middle life? Will, purpose, hope? All those lights were extinguished + before I could sound the words.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Light ‘em up again!’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Easily said. I am the son, Mr Meagles, of a hard father and mother. I + am the only child of parents who weighed, measured, and priced everything; + for whom what could not be weighed, measured, and priced, had no + existence. Strict people as the phrase is, professors of a stern religion, + their very religion was a gloomy sacrifice of tastes and sympathies that + were never their own, offered up as a part of a bargain for the security + of their possessions. Austere faces, inexorable discipline, penance in + this world and terror in the next—nothing graceful or gentle + anywhere, and the void in my cowed heart everywhere—this was my + childhood, if I may so misuse the word as to apply it to such a beginning + of life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really though?’ said Mr Meagles, made very uncomfortable by the picture + offered to his imagination. ‘That was a tough commencement. But come! You + must now study, and profit by, all that lies beyond it, like a practical + man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If the people who are usually called practical, were practical in your + direction—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, so they are!’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are they indeed?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I suppose so,’ returned Mr Meagles, thinking about it. ‘Eh? One can + but <i>be</i> practical, and Mrs Meagles and myself are nothing else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My unknown course is easier and more helpful than I had expected to find + it, then,’ said Clennam, shaking his head with his grave smile. ‘Enough of + me. Here is the boat.’ + </p> + <p> + The boat was filled with the cocked hats to which Mr Meagles entertained a + national objection; and the wearers of those cocked hats landed and came + up the steps, and all the impounded travellers congregated together. There + was then a mighty production of papers on the part of the cocked hats, and + a calling over of names, and great work of signing, sealing, stamping, + inking, and sanding, with exceedingly blurred, gritty, and undecipherable + results. Finally, everything was done according to rule, and the + travellers were at liberty to depart whithersoever they would. + </p> + <p> + They made little account of stare and glare, in the new pleasure of + recovering their freedom, but flitted across the harbour in gay boats, and + reassembled at a great hotel, whence the sun was excluded by closed + lattices, and where bare paved floors, lofty ceilings, and resounding + corridors tempered the intense heat. There, a great table in a great room + was soon profusely covered with a superb repast; and the quarantine + quarters became bare indeed, remembered among dainty dishes, southern + fruits, cooled wines, flowers from Genoa, snow from the mountain tops, and + all the colours of the rainbow flashing in the mirrors. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I bear those monotonous walls no ill-will now,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘One + always begins to forgive a place as soon as it’s left behind; I dare say a + prisoner begins to relent towards his prison, after he is let out.’ + </p> + <p> + They were about thirty in company, and all talking; but necessarily in + groups. Father and Mother Meagles sat with their daughter between them, + the last three on one side of the table: on the opposite side sat Mr + Clennam; a tall French gentleman with raven hair and beard, of a swart and + terrible, not to say genteelly diabolical aspect, but who had shown + himself the mildest of men; and a handsome young Englishwoman, travelling + quite alone, who had a proud observant face, and had either withdrawn + herself from the rest or been avoided by the rest—nobody, herself + excepted perhaps, could have quite decided which. The rest of the party + were of the usual materials: travellers on business, and travellers for + pleasure; officers from India on leave; merchants in the Greek and Turkey + trades; a clerical English husband in a meek strait-waistcoat, on a + wedding trip with his young wife; a majestic English mama and papa, of the + patrician order, with a family of three growing-up daughters, who were + keeping a journal for the confusion of their fellow-creatures; and a deaf + old English mother, tough in travel, with a very decidedly grown-up + daughter indeed, which daughter went sketching about the universe in the + expectation of ultimately toning herself off into the married state. + </p> + <p> + The reserved Englishwoman took up Mr Meagles in his last remark. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean that a prisoner forgives his prison?’ said she, slowly and + with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + ‘That was my speculation, Miss Wade. I don’t pretend to know positively + how a prisoner might feel. I never was one before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mademoiselle doubts,’ said the French gentleman in his own language, + ‘it’s being so easy to forgive?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do.’ + </p> + <p> + Pet had to translate this passage to Mr Meagles, who never by any accident + acquired any knowledge whatever of the language of any country into which + he travelled. ‘Oh!’ said he. ‘Dear me! But that’s a pity, isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That I am not credulous?’ said Miss Wade. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not exactly that. Put it another way. That you can’t believe it easy to + forgive.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My experience,’ she quietly returned, ‘has been correcting my belief in + many respects, for some years. It is our natural progress, I have heard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well! But it’s not natural to bear malice, I hope?’ said Mr + Meagles, cheerily. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I had been shut up in any place to pine and suffer, I should always + hate that place and wish to burn it down, or raze it to the ground. I know + no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Strong, sir?’ said Mr Meagles to the Frenchman; it being another of his + habits to address individuals of all nations in idiomatic English, with a + perfect conviction that they were bound to understand it somehow. ‘Rather + forcible in our fair friend, you’ll agree with me, I think?’ + </p> + <p> + The French gentleman courteously replied, ‘Plait-il?’ To which Mr Meagles + returned with much satisfaction, ‘You are right. My opinion.’ + </p> + <p> + The breakfast beginning by-and-by to languish, Mr Meagles made the company + a speech. It was short enough and sensible enough, considering that it was + a speech at all, and hearty. It merely went to the effect that as they had + all been thrown together by chance, and had all preserved a good + understanding together, and were now about to disperse, and were not + likely ever to find themselves all together again, what could they do + better than bid farewell to one another, and give one another good-speed + in a simultaneous glass of cool champagne all round the table? It was + done, and with a general shaking of hands the assembly broke up for ever. + </p> + <p> + The solitary young lady all this time had said no more. She rose with the + rest, and silently withdrew to a remote corner of the great room, where + she sat herself on a couch in a window, seeming to watch the reflection of + the water as it made a silver quivering on the bars of the lattice. She + sat, turned away from the whole length of the apartment, as if she were + lonely of her own haughty choice. And yet it would have been as difficult + as ever to say, positively, whether she avoided the rest, or was avoided. + </p> + <p> + The shadow in which she sat, falling like a gloomy veil across her + forehead, accorded very well with the character of her beauty. One could + hardly see the face, so still and scornful, set off by the arched dark + eyebrows, and the folds of dark hair, without wondering what its + expression would be if a change came over it. That it could soften or + relent, appeared next to impossible. That it could deepen into anger or + any extreme of defiance, and that it must change in that direction when it + changed at all, would have been its peculiar impression upon most + observers. It was dressed and trimmed into no ceremony of expression. + Although not an open face, there was no pretence in it. ‘I am + self-contained and self-reliant; your opinion is nothing to me; I have no + interest in you, care nothing for you, and see and hear you with + indifference’—this it said plainly. It said so in the proud eyes, in + the lifted nostril, in the handsome but compressed and even cruel mouth. + Cover either two of those channels of expression, and the third would have + said so still. Mask them all, and the mere turn of the head would have + shown an unsubduable nature. + </p> + <p> + Pet had moved up to her (she had been the subject of remark among her + family and Mr Clennam, who were now the only other occupants of the room), + and was standing at her side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you’—she turned her eyes, and Pet faltered—‘expecting any + one to meet you here, Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I? No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father is sending to the Poste Restante. Shall he have the pleasure of + directing the messenger to ask if there are any letters for you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thank him, but I know there can be none.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We are afraid,’ said Pet, sitting down beside her, shyly and half + tenderly, ‘that you will feel quite deserted when we are all gone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not,’ said Pet, apologetically and embarrassed by her eyes, ‘not, of + course, that we are any company to you, or that we have been able to be + so, or that we thought you wished it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not intended to make it understood that I did wish it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. Of course. But—in short,’ said Pet, timidly touching her hand + as it lay impassive on the sofa between them, ‘will you not allow Father + to tender you any slight assistance or service? He will be very glad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very glad,’ said Mr Meagles, coming forward with his wife and Clennam. + ‘Anything short of speaking the language, I shall be delighted to + undertake, I am sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am obliged to you,’ she returned, ‘but my arrangements are made, and I + prefer to go my own way in my own manner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Do</i> you?’ said Mr Meagles to himself, as he surveyed her with a + puzzled look. ‘Well! There’s character in that, too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not much used to the society of young ladies, and I am afraid I may + not show my appreciation of it as others might. A pleasant journey to you. + Good-bye!’ + </p> + <p> + She would not have put out her hand, it seemed, but that Mr Meagles put + out his so straight before her that she could not pass it. She put hers in + it, and it lay there just as it had lain upon the couch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘This is the last good-bye upon the list, for + Mother and I have just said it to Mr Clennam here, and he only waits to + say it to Pet. Good-bye! We may never meet again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In our course through life we shall meet the people who are coming to + meet <i>us</i>, from many strange places and by many strange roads,’ was + the composed reply; ‘and what it is set to us to do to them, and what it + is set to them to do to us, will all be done.’ + </p> + <p> + There was something in the manner of these words that jarred upon Pet’s + ear. It implied that what was to be done was necessarily evil, and it + caused her to say in a whisper, ‘O Father!’ and to shrink childishly, in + her spoilt way, a little closer to him. This was not lost on the speaker. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your pretty daughter,’ she said, ‘starts to think of such things. Yet,’ + looking full upon her, ‘you may be sure that there are men and women + already on their road, who have their business to do with <i>you</i>, and + who will do it. Of a certainty they will do it. They may be coming + hundreds, thousands, of miles over the sea there; they may be close at + hand now; they may be coming, for anything you know or anything you can do + to prevent it, from the vilest sweepings of this very town.’ + </p> + <p> + With the coldest of farewells, and with a certain worn expression on her + beauty that gave it, though scarcely yet in its prime, a wasted look, she + left the room. + </p> + <p> + Now, there were many stairs and passages that she had to traverse in + passing from that part of the spacious house to the chamber she had + secured for her own occupation. When she had almost completed the journey, + and was passing along the gallery in which her room was, she heard an + angry sound of muttering and sobbing. A door stood open, and within she + saw the attendant upon the girl she had just left; the maid with the + curious name. + </p> + <p> + She stood still, to look at this maid. A sullen, passionate girl! Her rich + black hair was all about her face, her face was flushed and hot, and as + she sobbed and raged, she plucked at her lips with an unsparing hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Selfish brutes!’ said the girl, sobbing and heaving between whiles. ‘Not + caring what becomes of me! Leaving me here hungry and thirsty and tired, + to starve, for anything they care! Beasts! Devils! Wretches!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My poor girl, what is the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + She looked up suddenly, with reddened eyes, and with her hands suspended, + in the act of pinching her neck, freshly disfigured with great scarlet + blots. ‘It’s nothing to you what’s the matter. It don’t signify to any + one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O yes it does; I am sorry to see you so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not sorry,’ said the girl. ‘You are glad. You know you are glad. + I never was like this but twice over in the quarantine yonder; and both + times you found me. I am afraid of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Afraid of me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. You seem to come like my own anger, my own malice, my own—whatever + it is—I don’t know what it is. But I am ill-used, I am ill-used, I + am ill-used!’ Here the sobs and the tears, and the tearing hand, which had + all been suspended together since the first surprise, went on together + anew. + </p> + <p> + The visitor stood looking at her with a strange attentive smile. It was + wonderful to see the fury of the contest in the girl, and the bodily + struggle she made as if she were rent by the Demons of old. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0047m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0047m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0047.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘I am younger than she is by two or three years, and yet it’s me that + looks after her, as if I was old, and it’s she that’s always petted and + called Baby! I detest the name. I hate her! They make a fool of her, they + spoil her. She thinks of nothing but herself, she thinks no more of me + than if I was a stock and a stone!’ So the girl went on. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must have patience.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I <i>won’t</i> have patience!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they take much care of themselves, and little or none of you, you must + not mind it.’ + </p> + <p> + I <i>will</i> mind it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush! Be more prudent. You forget your dependent position.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care for that. I’ll run away. I’ll do some mischief. I won’t bear + it; I can’t bear it; I shall die if I try to bear it!’ + </p> + <p> + The observer stood with her hand upon her own bosom, looking at the girl, + as one afflicted with a diseased part might curiously watch the dissection + and exposition of an analogous case. + </p> + <p> + The girl raged and battled with all the force of her youth and fulness of + life, until by little and little her passionate exclamations trailed off + into broken murmurs as if she were in pain. By corresponding degrees she + sank into a chair, then upon her knees, then upon the ground beside the + bed, drawing the coverlet with her, half to hide her shamed head and wet + hair in it, and half, as it seemed, to embrace it, rather than have + nothing to take to her repentant breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go away from me, go away from me! When my temper comes upon me, I am mad. + I know I might keep it off if I only tried hard enough, and sometimes I do + try hard enough, and at other times I don’t and won’t. What have I said! I + knew when I said it, it was all lies. They think I am being taken care of + somewhere, and have all I want. They are nothing but good to me. I love + them dearly; no people could ever be kinder to a thankless creature than + they always are to me. Do, do go away, for I am afraid of you. I am afraid + of myself when I feel my temper coming, and I am as much afraid of you. Go + away from me, and let me pray and cry myself better!’ + </p> + <p> + The day passed on; and again the wide stare stared itself out; and the hot + night was on Marseilles; and through it the caravan of the morning, all + dispersed, went their appointed ways. And thus ever by day and night, + under the sun and under the stars, climbing the dusty hills and toiling + along the weary plains, journeying by land and journeying by sea, coming + and going so strangely, to meet and to act and react on one another, move + all we restless travellers through the pilgrimage of life. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 3. Home + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was a Sunday evening in London, gloomy, close, and stale. Maddening + church bells of all degrees of dissonance, sharp and flat, cracked and + clear, fast and slow, made the brick-and-mortar echoes hideous. Melancholy + streets, in a penitential garb of soot, steeped the souls of the people + who were condemned to look at them out of windows, in dire despondency. In + every thoroughfare, up almost every alley, and down almost every turning, + some doleful bell was throbbing, jerking, tolling, as if the Plague were + in the city and the dead-carts were going round. Everything was bolted and + barred that could by possibility furnish relief to an overworked people. + No pictures, no unfamiliar animals, no rare plants or flowers, no natural + or artificial wonders of the ancient world—all <i>taboo</i> with + that enlightened strictness, that the ugly South Sea gods in the British + Museum might have supposed themselves at home again. Nothing to see but + streets, streets, streets. Nothing to breathe but streets, streets, + streets. Nothing to change the brooding mind, or raise it up. Nothing for + the spent toiler to do, but to compare the monotony of his seventh day + with the monotony of his six days, think what a weary life he led, and + make the best of it—or the worst, according to the probabilities. + </p> + <p> + At such a happy time, so propitious to the interests of religion and + morality, Mr Arthur Clennam, newly arrived from Marseilles by way of + Dover, and by Dover coach the Blue-eyed Maid, sat in the window of a + coffee-house on Ludgate Hill. Ten thousand responsible houses surrounded + him, frowning as heavily on the streets they composed, as if they were + every one inhabited by the ten young men of the Calender’s story, who + blackened their faces and bemoaned their miseries every night. Fifty + thousand lairs surrounded him where people lived so unwholesomely that + fair water put into their crowded rooms on Saturday night, would be + corrupt on Sunday morning; albeit my lord, their county member, was amazed + that they failed to sleep in company with their butcher’s meat. Miles of + close wells and pits of houses, where the inhabitants gasped for air, + stretched far away towards every point of the compass. Through the heart + of the town a deadly sewer ebbed and flowed, in the place of a fine fresh + river. What secular want could the million or so of human beings whose + daily labour, six days in the week, lay among these Arcadian objects, from + the sweet sameness of which they had no escape between the cradle and the + grave—what secular want could they possibly have upon their seventh + day? Clearly they could want nothing but a stringent policeman. + </p> + <p> + Mr Arthur Clennam sat in the window of the coffee-house on Ludgate Hill, + counting one of the neighbouring bells, making sentences and burdens of + songs out of it in spite of himself, and wondering how many sick people it + might be the death of in the course of the year. As the hour approached, + its changes of measure made it more and more exasperating. At the quarter, + it went off into a condition of deadly-lively importunity, urging the + populace in a voluble manner to Come to church, Come to church, Come to + church! At the ten minutes, it became aware that the congregation would be + scanty, and slowly hammered out in low spirits, They <i>won’t</i> come, + they <i>won’t</i> come, they <i>won’t</i> come! At the five minutes, it + abandoned hope, and shook every house in the neighbourhood for three + hundred seconds, with one dismal swing per second, as a groan of despair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank Heaven!’ said Clennam, when the hour struck, and the bell stopped. + </p> + <p> + But its sound had revived a long train of miserable Sundays, and the + procession would not stop with the bell, but continued to march on. + ‘Heaven forgive me,’ said he, ‘and those who trained me. How I have hated + this day!’ + </p> + <p> + There was the dreary Sunday of his childhood, when he sat with his hands + before him, scared out of his senses by a horrible tract which commenced + business with the poor child by asking him in its title, why he was going + to Perdition?—a piece of curiosity that he really, in a frock and + drawers, was not in a condition to satisfy—and which, for the + further attraction of his infant mind, had a parenthesis in every other + line with some such hiccupping reference as 2 Ep. Thess. c. iii, v. 6 + & 7. There was the sleepy Sunday of his boyhood, when, like a military + deserter, he was marched to chapel by a picquet of teachers three times a + day, morally handcuffed to another boy; and when he would willingly have + bartered two meals of indigestible sermon for another ounce or two of + inferior mutton at his scanty dinner in the flesh. There was the + interminable Sunday of his nonage; when his mother, stern of face and + unrelenting of heart, would sit all day behind a Bible—bound, like + her own construction of it, in the hardest, barest, and straitest boards, + with one dinted ornament on the cover like the drag of a chain, and a + wrathful sprinkling of red upon the edges of the leaves—as if it, of + all books! were a fortification against sweetness of temper, natural + affection, and gentle intercourse. There was the resentful Sunday of a + little later, when he sat down glowering and glooming through the tardy + length of the day, with a sullen sense of injury in his heart, and no more + real knowledge of the beneficent history of the New Testament than if he + had been bred among idolaters. There was a legion of Sundays, all days of + unserviceable bitterness and mortification, slowly passing before him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Beg pardon, sir,’ said a brisk waiter, rubbing the table. ‘Wish see + bed-room?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I have just made up my mind to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Chaymaid!’ cried the waiter. ‘Gelen box num seven wish see room!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay!’ said Clennam, rousing himself. ‘I was not thinking of what I said; + I answered mechanically. I am not going to sleep here. I am going home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Deed, sir? Chaymaid! Gelen box num seven, not go sleep here, gome.’ + </p> + <p> + He sat in the same place as the day died, looking at the dull houses + opposite, and thinking, if the disembodied spirits of former inhabitants + were ever conscious of them, how they must pity themselves for their old + places of imprisonment. Sometimes a face would appear behind the dingy + glass of a window, and would fade away into the gloom as if it had seen + enough of life and had vanished out of it. Presently the rain began to + fall in slanting lines between him and those houses, and people began to + collect under cover of the public passage opposite, and to look out + hopelessly at the sky as the rain dropped thicker and faster. Then wet + umbrellas began to appear, draggled skirts, and mud. What the mud had been + doing with itself, or where it came from, who could say? But it seemed to + collect in a moment, as a crowd will, and in five minutes to have splashed + all the sons and daughters of Adam. The lamplighter was going his rounds + now; and as the fiery jets sprang up under his touch, one might have + fancied them astonished at being suffered to introduce any show of + brightness into such a dismal scene. + </p> + <p> + Mr Arthur Clennam took up his hat and buttoned his coat, and walked out. + In the country, the rain would have developed a thousand fresh scents, and + every drop would have had its bright association with some beautiful form + of growth or life. In the city, it developed only foul stale smells, and + was a sickly, lukewarm, dirt-stained, wretched addition to the gutters. + </p> + <p> + He crossed by St Paul’s and went down, at a long angle, almost to the + water’s edge, through some of the crooked and descending streets which lie + (and lay more crookedly and closely then) between the river and Cheapside. + Passing, now the mouldy hall of some obsolete Worshipful Company, now the + illuminated windows of a Congregationless Church that seemed to be waiting + for some adventurous Belzoni to dig it out and discover its history; + passing silent warehouses and wharves, and here and there a narrow alley + leading to the river, where a wretched little bill, FOUND DROWNED, was + weeping on the wet wall; he came at last to the house he sought. An old + brick house, so dingy as to be all but black, standing by itself within a + gateway. Before it, a square court-yard where a shrub or two and a patch + of grass were as rank (which is saying much) as the iron railings + enclosing them were rusty; behind it, a jumble of roots. It was a double + house, with long, narrow, heavily-framed windows. Many years ago, it had + had it in its mind to slide down sideways; it had been propped up, + however, and was leaning on some half-dozen gigantic crutches: which + gymnasium for the neighbouring cats, weather-stained, smoke-blackened, and + overgrown with weeds, appeared in these latter days to be no very sure + reliance. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing changed,’ said the traveller, stopping to look round. ‘Dark and + miserable as ever. A light in my mother’s window, which seems never to + have been extinguished since I came home twice a year from school, and + dragged my box over this pavement. Well, well, well!’ + </p> + <p> + He went up to the door, which had a projecting canopy in carved work of + festooned jack-towels and children’s heads with water on the brain, + designed after a once-popular monumental pattern, and knocked. A shuffling + step was soon heard on the stone floor of the hall, and the door was + opened by an old man, bent and dried, but with keen eyes. + </p> + <p> + He had a candle in his hand, and he held it up for a moment to assist his + keen eyes. ‘Ah, Mr Arthur?’ he said, without any emotion, ‘you are come at + last? Step in.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Arthur stepped in and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your figure is filled out, and set,’ said the old man, turning to look at + him with the light raised again, and shaking his head; ‘but you don’t come + up to your father in my opinion. Nor yet your mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How is my mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is as she always is now. Keeps her room when not actually bedridden, + and hasn’t been out of it fifteen times in as many years, Arthur.’ They + had walked into a spare, meagre dining-room. The old man had put the + candlestick upon the table, and, supporting his right elbow with his left + hand, was smoothing his leathern jaws while he looked at the visitor. The + visitor offered his hand. The old man took it coldly enough, and seemed to + prefer his jaws, to which he returned as soon as he could. + </p> + <p> + ‘I doubt if your mother will approve of your coming home on the Sabbath, + Arthur,’ he said, shaking his head warily. + </p> + <p> + ‘You wouldn’t have me go away again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I? I? I am not the master. It’s not what <i>I</i> would have. I have + stood between your father and mother for a number of years. I don’t + pretend to stand between your mother and you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you tell her that I have come home?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Arthur, yes. Oh, to be sure! I’ll tell her that you have come home. + Please to wait here. You won’t find the room changed.’ He took another + candle from a cupboard, lighted it, left the first on the table, and went + upon his errand. He was a short, bald old man, in a high-shouldered black + coat and waistcoat, drab breeches, and long drab gaiters. He might, from + his dress, have been either clerk or servant, and in fact had long been + both. There was nothing about him in the way of decoration but a watch, + which was lowered into the depths of its proper pocket by an old black + ribbon, and had a tarnished copper key moored above it, to show where it + was sunk. His head was awry, and he had a one-sided, crab-like way with + him, as if his foundations had yielded at about the same time as those of + the house, and he ought to have been propped up in a similar manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘How weak am I,’ said Arthur Clennam, when he was gone, ‘that I could shed + tears at this reception! I, who have never experienced anything else; who + have never expected anything else.’ + </p> + <p> + He not only could, but did. It was the momentary yielding of a nature that + had been disappointed from the dawn of its perceptions, but had not quite + given up all its hopeful yearnings yet. He subdued it, took up the candle, + and examined the room. The old articles of furniture were in their old + places; the Plagues of Egypt, much the dimmer for the fly and smoke + plagues of London, were framed and glazed upon the walls. There was the + old cellaret with nothing in it, lined with lead, like a sort of coffin in + compartments; there was the old dark closet, also with nothing in it, of + which he had been many a time the sole contents, in days of punishment, + when he had regarded it as the veritable entrance to that bourne to which + the tract had found him galloping. There was the large, hard-featured + clock on the sideboard, which he used to see bending its figured brows + upon him with a savage joy when he was behind-hand with his lessons, and + which, when it was wound up once a week with an iron handle, used to sound + as if it were growling in ferocious anticipation of the miseries into + which it would bring him. But here was the old man come back, saying, + ‘Arthur, I’ll go before and light you.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur followed him up the staircase, which was panelled off into spaces + like so many mourning tablets, into a dim bed-chamber, the floor of which + had gradually so sunk and settled, that the fire-place was in a dell. On a + black bier-like sofa in this hollow, propped up behind with one great + angular black bolster like the block at a state execution in the good old + times, sat his mother in a widow’s dress. + </p> + <p> + She and his father had been at variance from his earliest remembrance. To + sit speechless himself in the midst of rigid silence, glancing in dread + from the one averted face to the other, had been the peacefullest + occupation of his childhood. She gave him one glassy kiss, and four stiff + fingers muffled in worsted. This embrace concluded, he sat down on the + opposite side of her little table. There was a fire in the grate, as there + had been night and day for fifteen years. There was a kettle on the hob, + as there had been night and day for fifteen years. There was a little + mound of damped ashes on the top of the fire, and another little mound + swept together under the grate, as there had been night and day for + fifteen years. There was a smell of black dye in the airless room, which + the fire had been drawing out of the crape and stuff of the widow’s dress + for fifteen months, and out of the bier-like sofa for fifteen years. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, this is a change from your old active habits.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The world has narrowed to these dimensions, Arthur,’ she replied, + glancing round the room. ‘It is well for me that I never set my heart upon + its hollow vanities.’ + </p> + <p> + The old influence of her presence and her stern strong voice, so gathered + about her son, that he felt conscious of a renewal of the timid chill and + reserve of his childhood. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you never leave your room, mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What with my rheumatic affection, and what with its attendant debility or + nervous weakness—names are of no matter now—I have lost the + use of my limbs. I never leave my room. I have not been outside this door + for—tell him for how long,’ she said, speaking over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘A dozen year next Christmas,’ returned a cracked voice out of the dimness + behind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that Affery?’ said Arthur, looking towards it. + </p> + <p> + The cracked voice replied that it was Affery: and an old woman came + forward into what doubtful light there was, and kissed her hand once; then + subsided again into the dimness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am able,’ said Mrs Clennam, with a slight motion of her worsted-muffled + right hand toward a chair on wheels, standing before a tall writing + cabinet close shut up, ‘I am able to attend to my business duties, and I + am thankful for the privilege. It is a great privilege. But no more of + business on this day. It is a bad night, is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does it snow?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Snow, mother? And we only yet in September?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All seasons are alike to me,’ she returned, with a grim kind of + luxuriousness. ‘I know nothing of summer and winter, shut up here. The + Lord has been pleased to put me beyond all that.’ With her cold grey eyes + and her cold grey hair, and her immovable face, as stiff as the folds of + her stony head-dress,—her being beyond the reach of the seasons + seemed but a fit sequence to her being beyond the reach of all changing + emotions. + </p> + <p> + On her little table lay two or three books, her handkerchief, a pair of + steel spectacles newly taken off, and an old-fashioned gold watch in a + heavy double case. Upon this last object her son’s eyes and her own now + rested together. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see that you received the packet I sent you on my father’s death, + safely, mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never knew my father to show so much anxiety on any subject, as that + his watch should be sent straight to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I keep it here as a remembrance of your father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was not until the last, that he expressed the wish; when he could only + put his hand upon it, and very indistinctly say to me “your mother.” A + moment before, I thought him wandering in his mind, as he had been for + many hours—I think he had no consciousness of pain in his short + illness—when I saw him turn himself in his bed and try to open it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was your father, then, not wandering in his mind when he tried to open + it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. He was quite sensible at that time.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam shook her head; whether in dismissal of the deceased or + opposing herself to her son’s opinion, was not clearly expressed. + </p> + <p> + ‘After my father’s death I opened it myself, thinking there might be, for + anything I knew, some memorandum there. However, as I need not tell you, + mother, there was nothing but the old silk watch-paper worked in beads, + which you found (no doubt) in its place between the cases, where I found + and left it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam signified assent; then added, ‘No more of business on this + day,’ and then added, ‘Affery, it is nine o’clock.’ + </p> + <p> + Upon this, the old woman cleared the little table, went out of the room, + and quickly returned with a tray on which was a dish of little rusks and a + small precise pat of butter, cool, symmetrical, white, and plump. The old + man who had been standing by the door in one attitude during the whole + interview, looking at the mother up-stairs as he had looked at the son + down-stairs, went out at the same time, and, after a longer absence, + returned with another tray on which was the greater part of a bottle of + port wine (which, to judge by his panting, he had brought from the + cellar), a lemon, a sugar-basin, and a spice box. With these materials and + the aid of the kettle, he filled a tumbler with a hot and odorous mixture, + measured out and compounded with as much nicety as a physician’s + prescription. Into this mixture Mrs Clennam dipped certain of the rusks, + and ate them; while the old woman buttered certain other of the rusks, + which were to be eaten alone. When the invalid had eaten all the rusks and + drunk all the mixture, the two trays were removed; and the books and the + candle, watch, handkerchief, and spectacles were replaced upon the table. + She then put on the spectacles and read certain passages aloud from a book—sternly, + fiercely, wrathfully—praying that her enemies (she made them by her + tone and manner expressly hers) might be put to the edge of the sword, + consumed by fire, smitten by plagues and leprosy, that their bones might + be ground to dust, and that they might be utterly exterminated. As she + read on, years seemed to fall away from her son like the imaginings of a + dream, and all the old dark horrors of his usual preparation for the sleep + of an innocent child to overshadow him. + </p> + <p> + She shut the book and remained for a little time with her face shaded by + her hand. So did the old man, otherwise still unchanged in attitude; so, + probably, did the old woman in her dimmer part of the room. Then the sick + woman was ready for bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night, Arthur. Affery will see to your accommodation. Only touch me, + for my hand is tender.’ He touched the worsted muffling of her hand—that + was nothing; if his mother had been sheathed in brass there would have + been no new barrier between them—and followed the old man and woman + down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + The latter asked him, when they were alone together among the heavy + shadows of the dining-room, would he have some supper? + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Affery, no supper.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall if you like,’ said Affery. ‘There’s her tomorrow’s partridge in + the larder—her first this year; say the word and I’ll cook it.’ + </p> + <p> + No, he had not long dined, and could eat nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have something to drink, then,’ said Affery; ‘you shall have some of her + bottle of port, if you like. I’ll tell Jeremiah that you ordered me to + bring it you.’ + </p> + <p> + No; nor would he have that, either. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no reason, Arthur,’ said the old woman, bending over him to whisper, + ‘that because I am afeared of my life of ‘em, you should be. You’ve got + half the property, haven’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then, don’t you be cowed. You’re clever, Arthur, an’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + He nodded, as she seemed to expect an answer in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then stand up against them! She’s awful clever, and none but a clever one + durst say a word to her. <i>He’s</i> a clever one—oh, he’s a clever + one!—and he gives it her when he has a mind to’t, he does!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your husband does?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does? It makes me shake from head to foot, to hear him give it her. My + husband, Jeremiah Flintwinch, can conquer even your mother. What can he be + but a clever one to do that!’ + </p> + <p> + His shuffling footstep coming towards them caused her to retreat to the + other end of the room. Though a tall, hard-favoured, sinewy old woman, who + in her youth might have enlisted in the Foot Guards without much fear of + discovery, she collapsed before the little keen-eyed crab-like old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Affery,’ said he, ‘now, woman, what are you doing? Can’t you find + Master Arthur something or another to pick at?’ + </p> + <p> + Master Arthur repeated his recent refusal to pick at anything. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well, then,’ said the old man; ‘make his bed. Stir yourself.’ His + neck was so twisted that the knotted ends of his white cravat usually + dangled under one ear; his natural acerbity and energy, always contending + with a second nature of habitual repression, gave his features a swollen + and suffused look; and altogether, he had a weird appearance of having + hanged himself at one time or other, and of having gone about ever since, + halter and all, exactly as some timely hand had cut him down. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll have bitter words together to-morrow, Arthur; you and your + mother,’ said Jeremiah. ‘Your having given up the business on your + father’s death—which she suspects, though we have left it to you to + tell her—won’t go off smoothly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have given up everything in life for the business, and the time came + for me to give up that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good!’ cried Jeremiah, evidently meaning Bad. ‘Very good! only don’t + expect me to stand between your mother and you, Arthur. I stood between + your mother and your father, fending off this, and fending off that, and + getting crushed and pounded betwixt em; and I’ve done with such work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You will never be asked to begin it again for me, Jeremiah.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good. I’m glad to hear it; because I should have had to decline it, if I + had been. That’s enough—as your mother says—and more than + enough of such matters on a Sabbath night. Affery, woman, have you found + what you want yet?’ + </p> + <p> + She had been collecting sheets and blankets from a press, and hastened to + gather them up, and to reply, ‘Yes, Jeremiah.’ Arthur Clennam helped her + by carrying the load himself, wished the old man good night, and went + up-stairs with her to the top of the house. + </p> + <p> + They mounted up and up, through the musty smell of an old close house, + little used, to a large garret bed-room. Meagre and spare, like all the + other rooms, it was even uglier and grimmer than the rest, by being the + place of banishment for the worn-out furniture. Its movables were ugly old + chairs with worn-out seats, and ugly old chairs without any seats; a + threadbare patternless carpet, a maimed table, a crippled wardrobe, a lean + set of fire-irons like the skeleton of a set deceased, a washing-stand + that looked as if it had stood for ages in a hail of dirty soapsuds, and a + bedstead with four bare atomies of posts, each terminating in a spike, as + if for the dismal accommodation of lodgers who might prefer to impale + themselves. Arthur opened the long low window, and looked out upon the old + blasted and blackened forest of chimneys, and the old red glare in the + sky, which had seemed to him once upon a time but a nightly reflection of + the fiery environment that was presented to his childish fancy in all + directions, let it look where it would. + </p> + <p> + He drew in his head again, sat down at the bedside, and looked on at + Affery Flintwinch making the bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Affery, you were not married when I went away.’ + </p> + <p> + She screwed her mouth into the form of saying ‘No,’ shook her head, and + proceeded to get a pillow into its case. + </p> + <p> + ‘How did it happen?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Jeremiah, o’ course,’ said Affery, with an end of the pillow-case + between her teeth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course he proposed it, but how did it all come about? I should have + thought that neither of you would have married; least of all should I have + thought of your marrying each other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more should I,’ said Mrs Flintwinch, tying the pillow tightly in its + case. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what I mean. When did you begin to think otherwise?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never begun to think otherwise at all,’ said Mrs Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + Seeing, as she patted the pillow into its place on the bolster, that he + was still looking at her as if waiting for the rest of her reply, she gave + it a great poke in the middle, and asked, ‘How could I help myself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How could you help yourself from being married!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O’ course,’ said Mrs Flintwinch. ‘It was no doing o’ mine. I’d never + thought of it. I’d got something to do, without thinking, indeed! She kept + me to it (as well as he) when she could go about, and she could go about + then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ echoed Mrs Flintwinch. ‘That’s what I said myself. Well! What’s + the use of considering? If them two clever ones have made up their minds + to it, what’s left for <i>me</i> to do? Nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Was it my mother’s project, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Lord bless you, Arthur, and forgive me the wish!’ cried Affery, + speaking always in a low tone. ‘If they hadn’t been both of a mind in it, + how could it ever have been? Jeremiah never courted me; t’ant likely that + he would, after living in the house with me and ordering me about for as + many years as he’d done. He said to me one day, he said, “Affery,” he + said, “now I am going to tell you something. What do you think of the name + of Flintwinch?” “What do I think of it?” I says. “Yes,” he said, “because + you’re going to take it,” he said. “Take it?” I says. “Jere-<i>mi</i>-ah?” + Oh! he’s a clever one!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Flintwinch went on to spread the upper sheet over the bed, and the + blanket over that, and the counterpane over that, as if she had quite + concluded her story. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ said Arthur again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ echoed Mrs Flintwinch again. ‘How could I help myself? He said to + me, “Affery, you and me must be married, and I’ll tell you why. She’s + failing in health, and she’ll want pretty constant attendance up in her + room, and we shall have to be much with her, and there’ll be nobody about + now but ourselves when we’re away from her, and altogether it will be more + convenient. She’s of my opinion,” he said, “so if you’ll put your bonnet + on next Monday morning at eight, we’ll get it over.”’ Mrs Flintwinch + tucked up the bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ repeated Mrs Flintwinch, ‘I think so! I sits me down and says it. + Well!—Jeremiah then says to me, “As to banns, next Sunday being the + third time of asking (for I’ve put ‘em up a fortnight), is my reason for + naming Monday. She’ll speak to you about it herself, and now she’ll find + you prepared, Affery.” That same day she spoke to me, and she said, “So, + Affery, I understand that you and Jeremiah are going to be married. I am + glad of it, and so are you, with reason. It is a very good thing for you, + and very welcome under the circumstances to me. He is a sensible man, and + a trustworthy man, and a persevering man, and a pious man.” What could I + say when it had come to that? Why, if it had been—a smothering + instead of a wedding,’ Mrs Flintwinch cast about in her mind with great + pains for this form of expression, ‘I couldn’t have said a word upon it, + against them two clever ones.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In good faith, I believe so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And so you may, Arthur.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Affery, what girl was that in my mother’s room just now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Girl?’ said Mrs Flintwinch in a rather sharp key. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was a girl, surely, whom I saw near you—almost hidden in the + dark corner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! She? Little Dorrit? <i>She</i>’s nothing; she’s a whim of—hers.’ + It was a peculiarity of Affery Flintwinch that she never spoke of Mrs + Clennam by name. ‘But there’s another sort of girls than that about. Have + you forgot your old sweetheart? Long and long ago, I’ll be bound.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suffered enough from my mother’s separating us, to remember her. I + recollect her very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you got another?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s news for you, then. She’s well to do now, and a widow. And if you + like to have her, why you can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how do you know that, Affery?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Them two clever ones have been speaking about it.—There’s Jeremiah + on the stairs!’ She was gone in a moment. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Flintwinch had introduced into the web that his mind was busily + weaving, in that old workshop where the loom of his youth had stood, the + last thread wanting to the pattern. The airy folly of a boy’s love had + found its way even into that house, and he had been as wretched under its + hopelessness as if the house had been a castle of romance. Little more + than a week ago at Marseilles, the face of the pretty girl from whom he + had parted with regret, had had an unusual interest for him, and a tender + hold upon him, because of some resemblance, real or imagined, to this + first face that had soared out of his gloomy life into the bright glories + of fancy. He leaned upon the sill of the long low window, and looking out + upon the blackened forest of chimneys again, began to dream; for it had + been the uniform tendency of this man’s life—so much was wanting in + it to think about, so much that might have been better directed and + happier to speculate upon—to make him a dreamer, after all. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 4. Mrs Flintwinch has a Dream + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Mrs Flintwinch dreamed, she usually dreamed, unlike the son of her + old mistress, with her eyes shut. She had a curiously vivid dream that + night, and before she had left the son of her old mistress many hours. In + fact it was not at all like a dream; it was so very real in every respect. + It happened in this wise. + </p> + <p> + The bed-chamber occupied by Mr and Mrs Flintwinch was within a few paces + of that to which Mrs Clennam had been so long confined. It was not on the + same floor, for it was a room at the side of the house, which was + approached by a steep descent of a few odd steps, diverging from the main + staircase nearly opposite to Mrs Clennam’s door. It could scarcely be said + to be within call, the walls, doors, and panelling of the old place were + so cumbrous; but it was within easy reach, in any undress, at any hour of + the night, in any temperature. At the head of the bed and within a foot of + Mrs Flintwinch’s ear, was a bell, the line of which hung ready to Mrs + Clennam’s hand. Whenever this bell rang, up started Affery, and was in the + sick room before she was awake. + </p> + <p> + Having got her mistress into bed, lighted her lamp, and given her good + night, Mrs Flintwinch went to roost as usual, saving that her lord had not + yet appeared. It was her lord himself who became—unlike the last + theme in the mind, according to the observation of most philosophers—the + subject of Mrs Flintwinch’s dream. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to her that she awoke after sleeping some hours, and found + Jeremiah not yet abed. That she looked at the candle she had left burning, + and, measuring the time like King Alfred the Great, was confirmed by its + wasted state in her belief that she had been asleep for some considerable + period. That she arose thereupon, muffled herself up in a wrapper, put on + her shoes, and went out on the staircase, much surprised, to look for + Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + The staircase was as wooden and solid as need be, and Affery went straight + down it without any of those deviations peculiar to dreams. She did not + skim over it, but walked down it, and guided herself by the banisters on + account of her candle having died out. In one corner of the hall, behind + the house-door, there was a little waiting-room, like a well-shaft, with a + long narrow window in it as if it had been ripped up. In this room, which + was never used, a light was burning. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Flintwinch crossed the hall, feeling its pavement cold to her + stockingless feet, and peeped in between the rusty hinges on the door, + which stood a little open. She expected to see Jeremiah fast asleep or in + a fit, but he was calmly seated in a chair, awake, and in his usual + health. But what—hey?—Lord forgive us!—Mrs Flintwinch + muttered some ejaculation to this effect, and turned giddy. + </p> + <p> + For, Mr Flintwinch awake, was watching Mr Flintwinch asleep. He sat on one + side of the small table, looking keenly at himself on the other side with + his chin sunk on his breast, snoring. The waking Flintwinch had his full + front face presented to his wife; the sleeping Flintwinch was in profile. + The waking Flintwinch was the old original; the sleeping Flintwinch was + the double, just as she might have distinguished between a tangible object + and its reflection in a glass, Affery made out this difference with her + head going round and round. + </p> + <p> + If she had had any doubt which was her own Jeremiah, it would have been + resolved by his impatience. He looked about him for an offensive weapon, + caught up the snuffers, and, before applying them to the cabbage-headed + candle, lunged at the sleeper as though he would have run him through the + body. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who’s that? What’s the matter?’ cried the sleeper, starting. + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch made a movement with the snuffers, as if he would have + enforced silence on his companion by putting them down his throat; the + companion, coming to himself, said, rubbing his eyes, ‘I forgot where I + was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been asleep,’ snarled Jeremiah, referring to his watch, ‘two + hours. You said you would be rested enough if you had a short nap.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have had a short nap,’ said Double. + </p> + <p> + ‘Half-past two o’clock in the morning,’ muttered Jeremiah. ‘Where’s your + hat? Where’s your coat? Where’s the box?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All here,’ said Double, tying up his throat with sleepy carefulness in a + shawl. ‘Stop a minute. Now give me the sleeve—not that sleeve, the + other one. Ha! I’m not as young as I was.’ Mr Flintwinch had pulled him + into his coat with vehement energy. ‘You promised me a second glass after + I was rested.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Drink it!’ returned Jeremiah, ‘and—choke yourself, I was going to + say—but go, I mean.’ At the same time he produced the identical + port-wine bottle, and filled a wine-glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Her port-wine, I believe?’ said Double, tasting it as if he were in the + Docks, with hours to spare. ‘Her health.’ + </p> + <p> + He took a sip. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your health!’ + </p> + <p> + He took another sip. + </p> + <p> + ‘His health!’ + </p> + <p> + He took another sip. + </p> + <p> + ‘And all friends round St Paul’s.’ He emptied and put down the wine-glass + half-way through this ancient civic toast, and took up the box. It was an + iron box some two feet square, which he carried under his arms pretty + easily. Jeremiah watched his manner of adjusting it, with jealous eyes; + tried it with his hands, to be sure that he had a firm hold of it; bade + him for his life be careful what he was about; and then stole out on + tiptoe to open the door for him. Affery, anticipating the last movement, + was on the staircase. The sequence of things was so ordinary and natural, + that, standing there, she could hear the door open, feel the night air, + and see the stars outside. + </p> + <p> + But now came the most remarkable part of the dream. She felt so afraid of + her husband, that being on the staircase, she had not the power to retreat + to her room (which she might easily have done before he had fastened the + door), but stood there staring. Consequently when he came up the staircase + to bed, candle in hand, he came full upon her. He looked astonished, but + said not a word. He kept his eyes upon her, and kept advancing; and she, + completely under his influence, kept retiring before him. Thus, she + walking backward and he walking forward, they came into their own room. + They were no sooner shut in there, than Mr Flintwinch took her by the + throat, and shook her until she was black in the face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Affery, woman—Affery!’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘What have you been + dreaming of? Wake up, wake up! What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The—the matter, Jeremiah?’ gasped Mrs Flintwinch, rolling her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, Affery, woman—Affery! You have been getting out of bed in your + sleep, my dear! I come up, after having fallen asleep myself, below, and + find you in your wrapper here, with the nightmare. Affery, woman,’ said Mr + Flintwinch, with a friendly grin on his expressive countenance, ‘if you + ever have a dream of this sort again, it’ll be a sign of your being in + want of physic. And I’ll give you such a dose, old woman—such a + dose!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Flintwinch thanked him and crept into bed. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 5. Family Affairs + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s the city clocks struck nine on Monday morning, Mrs Clennam was wheeled + by Jeremiah Flintwinch of the cut-down aspect to her tall cabinet. When + she had unlocked and opened it, and had settled herself at its desk, + Jeremiah withdrew—as it might be, to hang himself more effectually—and + her son appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you any better this morning, mother?’ + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, with the same austere air of luxuriousness that she + had shown over-night when speaking of the weather. ‘I shall never be + better any more. It is well for me, Arthur, that I know it and can bear + it.’ + </p> + <p> + Sitting with her hands laid separately upon the desk, and the tall cabinet + towering before her, she looked as if she were performing on a dumb church + organ. Her son thought so (it was an old thought with him), while he took + his seat beside it. + </p> + <p> + She opened a drawer or two, looked over some business papers, and put them + back again. Her severe face had no thread of relaxation in it, by which + any explorer could have been guided to the gloomy labyrinth of her + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I speak of our affairs, mother? Are you inclined to enter upon + business?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I inclined, Arthur? Rather, are you? Your father has been dead a year + and more. I have been at your disposal, and waiting your pleasure, ever + since.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was much to arrange before I could leave; and when I did leave, I + travelled a little for rest and relief.’ + </p> + <p> + She turned her face towards him, as not having heard or understood his + last words. + </p> + <p> + ‘For rest and relief.’ + </p> + <p> + She glanced round the sombre room, and appeared from the motion of her + lips to repeat the words to herself, as calling it to witness how little + of either it afforded her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides, mother, you being sole executrix, and having the direction and + management of the estate, there remained little business, or I might say + none, that I could transact, until you had had time to arrange matters to + your satisfaction.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The accounts are made out,’ she returned. ‘I have them here. The vouchers + have all been examined and passed. You can inspect them when you like, + Arthur; now, if you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is quite enough, mother, to know that the business is completed. Shall + I proceed then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ she said, in her frozen way. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, our House has done less and less for some years past, and our + dealings have been progressively on the decline. We have never shown much + confidence, or invited much; we have attached no people to us; the track + we have kept is not the track of the time; and we have been left far + behind. I need not dwell on this to you, mother. You know it necessarily.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what you mean,’ she answered, in a qualified tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even this old house in which we speak,’ pursued her son, ‘is an instance + of what I say. In my father’s earlier time, and in his uncle’s time before + him, it was a place of business—really a place of business, and + business resort. Now, it is a mere anomaly and incongruity here, out of + date and out of purpose. All our consignments have long been made to + Rovinghams’ the commission-merchants; and although, as a check upon them, + and in the stewardship of my father’s resources, your judgment and + watchfulness have been actively exerted, still those qualities would have + influenced my father’s fortunes equally, if you had lived in any private + dwelling: would they not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you consider,’ she returned, without answering his question, ‘that a + house serves no purpose, Arthur, in sheltering your infirm and afflicted—justly + infirm and righteously afflicted—mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was speaking only of business purposes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With what object?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am coming to it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I foresee,’ she returned, fixing her eyes upon him, ‘what it is. But the + Lord forbid that I should repine under any visitation. In my sinfulness I + merit bitter disappointment, and I accept it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, I grieve to hear you speak like this, though I have had my + apprehensions that you would—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You knew I would. You knew <i>me</i>,’ she interrupted. + </p> + <p> + Her son paused for a moment. He had struck fire out of her, and was + surprised. ‘Well!’ she said, relapsing into stone. ‘Go on. Let me hear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have anticipated, mother, that I decide for my part, to abandon the + business. I have done with it. I will not take upon myself to advise you; + you will continue it, I see. If I had any influence with you, I would + simply use it to soften your judgment of me in causing you this + disappointment: to represent to you that I have lived the half of a long + term of life, and have never before set my own will against yours. I + cannot say that I have been able to conform myself, in heart and spirit, + to your rules; I cannot say that I believe my forty years have been + profitable or pleasant to myself, or any one; but I have habitually + submitted, and I only ask you to remember it.’ + </p> + <p> + Woe to the suppliant, if such a one there were or ever had been, who had + any concession to look for in the inexorable face at the cabinet. Woe to + the defaulter whose appeal lay to the tribunal where those severe eyes + presided. Great need had the rigid woman of her mystical religion, veiled + in gloom and darkness, with lightnings of cursing, vengeance, and + destruction, flashing through the sable clouds. Forgive us our debts as we + forgive our debtors, was a prayer too poor in spirit for her. Smite Thou + my debtors, Lord, wither them, crush them; do Thou as I would do, and Thou + shalt have my worship: this was the impious tower of stone she built up to + scale Heaven. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you finished, Arthur, or have you anything more to say to me? I + think there can be nothing else. You have been short, but full of matter!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, I have yet something more to say. It has been upon my mind, night + and day, this long time. It is far more difficult to say than what I have + said. That concerned myself; this concerns us all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Us all! Who are us all?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yourself, myself, my dead father.’ + </p> + <p> + She took her hands from the desk; folded them in her lap; and sat looking + towards the fire, with the impenetrability of an old Egyptian sculpture. + </p> + <p> + ‘You knew my father infinitely better than I ever knew him; and his + reserve with me yielded to you. You were much the stronger, mother, and + directed him. As a child, I knew it as well as I know it now. I knew that + your ascendancy over him was the cause of his going to China to take care + of the business there, while you took care of it here (though I do not + even now know whether these were really terms of separation that you + agreed upon); and that it was your will that I should remain with you + until I was twenty, and then go to him as I did. You will not be offended + by my recalling this, after twenty years?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am waiting to hear why you recall it.’ + </p> + <p> + He lowered his voice, and said, with manifest reluctance, and against his + will: + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to ask you, mother, whether it ever occurred to you to suspect—’ + </p> + <p> + At the word Suspect, she turned her eyes momentarily upon her son, with a + dark frown. She then suffered them to seek the fire, as before; but with + the frown fixed above them, as if the sculptor of old Egypt had indented + it in the hard granite face, to frown for ages. + </p> + <p> + ‘—that he had any secret remembrance which caused him trouble of + mind—remorse? Whether you ever observed anything in his conduct + suggesting that; or ever spoke to him upon it, or ever heard him hint at + such a thing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not understand what kind of secret remembrance you mean to infer + that your father was a prey to,’ she returned, after a silence. ‘You speak + so mysteriously.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it possible, mother,’ her son leaned forward to be the nearer to her + while he whispered it, and laid his hand nervously upon her desk, ‘is it + possible, mother, that he had unhappily wronged any one, and made no + reparation?’ + </p> + <p> + Looking at him wrathfully, she bent herself back in her chair to keep him + further off, but gave him no reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am deeply sensible, mother, that if this thought has never at any time + flashed upon you, it must seem cruel and unnatural in me, even in this + confidence, to breathe it. But I cannot shake it off. Time and change (I + have tried both before breaking silence) do nothing to wear it out. + Remember, I was with my father. Remember, I saw his face when he gave the + watch into my keeping, and struggled to express that he sent it as a token + you would understand, to you. Remember, I saw him at the last with the + pencil in his failing hand, trying to write some word for you to read, but + to which he could give no shape. The more remote and cruel this vague + suspicion that I have, the stronger the circumstances that could give it + any semblance of probability to me. For Heaven’s sake, let us examine + sacredly whether there is any wrong entrusted to us to set right. No one + can help towards it, mother, but you.’ + </p> + <p> + Still so recoiling in her chair that her overpoised weight moved it, from + time to time, a little on its wheels, and gave her the appearance of a + phantom of fierce aspect gliding away from him, she interposed her left + arm, bent at the elbow with the back of her hand towards her face, between + herself and him, and looked at him in a fixed silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘In grasping at money and in driving hard bargains—I have begun, and + I must speak of such things now, mother—some one may have been + grievously deceived, injured, ruined. You were the moving power of all + this machinery before my birth; your stronger spirit has been infused into + all my father’s dealings for more than two score years. You can set these + doubts at rest, I think, if you will really help me to discover the truth. + Will you, mother?’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped in the hope that she would speak. But her grey hair was not + more immovable in its two folds, than were her firm lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘If reparation can be made to any one, if restitution can be made to any + one, let us know it and make it. Nay, mother, if within my means, let <i>me</i> + make it. I have seen so little happiness come of money; it has brought + within my knowledge so little peace to this house, or to any one belonging + to it, that it is worth less to me than to another. It can buy me nothing + that will not be a reproach and misery to me, if I am haunted by a + suspicion that it darkened my father’s last hours with remorse, and that + it is not honestly and justly mine.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a bell-rope hanging on the panelled wall, some two or three + yards from the cabinet. By a swift and sudden action of her foot, she + drove her wheeled chair rapidly back to it and pulled it violently—still + holding her arm up in its shield-like posture, as if he were striking at + her, and she warding off the blow. + </p> + <p> + A girl came hurrying in, frightened. + </p> + <p> + ‘Send Flintwinch here!’ + </p> + <p> + In a moment the girl had withdrawn, and the old man stood within the door. + ‘What! You’re hammer and tongs, already, you two?’ he said, coolly + stroking his face. ‘I thought you would be. I was pretty sure of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flintwinch!’ said the mother, ‘look at my son. Look at him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I <i>am</i> looking at him,’ said Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + She stretched out the arm with which she had shielded herself, and as she + went on, pointed at the object of her anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the very hour of his return almost—before the shoe upon his foot + is dry—he asperses his father’s memory to his mother! Asks his + mother to become, with him, a spy upon his father’s transactions through a + lifetime! Has misgivings that the goods of this world which we have + painfully got together early and late, with wear and tear and toil and + self-denial, are so much plunder; and asks to whom they shall be given up, + as reparation and restitution!’ + </p> + <p> + Although she said this raging, she said it in a voice so far from being + beyond her control that it was even lower than her usual tone. She also + spoke with great distinctness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Reparation!’ said she. ‘Yes, truly! It is easy for him to talk of + reparation, fresh from journeying and junketing in foreign lands, and + living a life of vanity and pleasure. But let him look at me, in prison, + and in bonds here. I endure without murmuring, because it is appointed + that I shall so make reparation for my sins. Reparation! Is there none in + this room? Has there been none here this fifteen years?’ + </p> + <p> + Thus was she always balancing her bargains with the Majesty of heaven, + posting up the entries to her credit, strictly keeping her set-off, and + claiming her due. She was only remarkable in this, for the force and + emphasis with which she did it. Thousands upon thousands do it, according + to their varying manner, every day. + </p> + <p> + ‘Flintwinch, give me that book!’ + </p> + <p> + The old man handed it to her from the table. She put two fingers between + the leaves, closed the book upon them, and held it up to her son in a + threatening way. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the days of old, Arthur, treated of in this commentary, there were + pious men, beloved of the Lord, who would have cursed their sons for less + than this: who would have sent them forth, and sent whole nations forth, + if such had supported them, to be avoided of God and man, and perish, down + to the baby at the breast. But I only tell you that if you ever renew that + theme with me, I will renounce you; I will so dismiss you through that + doorway, that you had better have been motherless from your cradle. I will + never see or know you more. And if, after all, you were to come into this + darkened room to look upon me lying dead, my body should bleed, if I could + make it, when you came near me.’ + </p> + <p> + In part relieved by the intensity of this threat, and in part (monstrous + as the fact is) by a general impression that it was in some sort a + religious proceeding, she handed back the book to the old man, and was + silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Jeremiah; ‘premising that I’m not going to stand between you + two, will you let me ask (as I <i>have</i> been called in, and made a + third) what is all this about?’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0066m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0066m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0066.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Take your version of it,’ returned Arthur, finding it left to him to + speak, ‘from my mother. Let it rest there. What I have said, was said to + my mother only.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ returned the old man. ‘From your mother? Take it from your mother? + Well! But your mother mentioned that you had been suspecting your father. + That’s not dutiful, Mr Arthur. Who will you be suspecting next?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Enough,’ said Mrs Clennam, turning her face so that it was addressed for + the moment to the old man only. ‘Let no more be said about this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but stop a bit, stop a bit,’ the old man persisted. ‘Let us see how + we stand. Have you told Mr Arthur that he mustn’t lay offences at his + father’s door? That he has no right to do it? That he has no ground to go + upon?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell him so now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Exactly,’ said the old man. ‘You tell him so now. You hadn’t told him + so before, and you tell him so now. Ay, ay! That’s right! You know I stood + between you and his father so long, that it seems as if death had made no + difference, and I was still standing between you. So I will, and so in + fairness I require to have that plainly put forward. Arthur, you please to + hear that you have no right to mistrust your father, and have no ground to + go upon.’ + </p> + <p> + He put his hands to the back of the wheeled chair, and muttering to + himself, slowly wheeled his mistress back to her cabinet. ‘Now,’ he + resumed, standing behind her: ‘in case I should go away leaving things + half done, and so should be wanted again when you come to the other half + and get into one of your flights, has Arthur told you what he means to do + about the business?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He has relinquished it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In favour of nobody, I suppose?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam glanced at her son, leaning against one of the windows. He + observed the look and said, ‘To my mother, of course. She does what she + pleases.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And if any pleasure,’ she said after a short pause, ‘could arise for me + out of the disappointment of my expectations that my son, in the prime of + his life, would infuse new youth and strength into it, and make it of + great profit and power, it would be in advancing an old and faithful + servant. Jeremiah, the captain deserts the ship, but you and I will sink + or float with it.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeremiah, whose eyes glistened as if they saw money, darted a sudden look + at the son, which seemed to say, ‘I owe <i>you</i> no thanks for this; <i>you</i> + have done nothing towards it!’ and then told the mother that he thanked + her, and that Affery thanked her, and that he would never desert her, and + that Affery would never desert her. Finally, he hauled up his watch from + its depths, and said, ‘Eleven. Time for your oysters!’ and with that + change of subject, which involved no change of expression or manner, rang + the bell. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs Clennam, resolved to treat herself with the greater rigour for + having been supposed to be unacquainted with reparation, refused to eat + her oysters when they were brought. They looked tempting; eight in number, + circularly set out on a white plate on a tray covered with a white napkin, + flanked by a slice of buttered French roll, and a little compact glass of + cool wine and water; but she resisted all persuasions, and sent them down + again—placing the act to her credit, no doubt, in her Eternal + Day-Book. + </p> + <p> + This refection of oysters was not presided over by Affery, but by the girl + who had appeared when the bell was rung; the same who had been in the + dimly-lighted room last night. Now that he had an opportunity of observing + her, Arthur found that her diminutive figure, small features, and slight + spare dress, gave her the appearance of being much younger than she was. A + woman, probably of not less than two-and-twenty, she might have been + passed in the street for little more than half that age. Not that her face + was very youthful, for in truth there was more consideration and care in + it than naturally belonged to her utmost years; but she was so little and + light, so noiseless and shy, and appeared so conscious of being out of + place among the three hard elders, that she had all the manner and much of + the appearance of a subdued child. + </p> + <p> + In a hard way, and in an uncertain way that fluctuated between patronage + and putting down, the sprinkling from a watering-pot and hydraulic + pressure, Mrs Clennam showed an interest in this dependent. Even in the + moment of her entrance, upon the violent ringing of the bell, when the + mother shielded herself with that singular action from the son, Mrs + Clennam’s eyes had had some individual recognition in them, which seemed + reserved for her. As there are degrees of hardness in the hardest metal, + and shades of colour in black itself, so, even in the asperity of Mrs + Clennam’s demeanour towards all the rest of humanity and towards Little + Dorrit, there was a fine gradation. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit let herself out to do needlework. At so much a day—or + at so little—from eight to eight, Little Dorrit was to be hired. + Punctual to the moment, Little Dorrit appeared; punctual to the moment, + Little Dorrit vanished. What became of Little Dorrit between the two + eights was a mystery. + </p> + <p> + Another of the moral phenomena of Little Dorrit. Besides her consideration + money, her daily contract included meals. She had an extraordinary + repugnance to dining in company; would never do so, if it were possible to + escape. Would always plead that she had this bit of work to begin first, + or that bit of work to finish first; and would, of a certainty, scheme and + plan—not very cunningly, it would seem, for she deceived no one—to + dine alone. Successful in this, happy in carrying off her plate anywhere, + to make a table of her lap, or a box, or the ground, or even as was + supposed, to stand on tip-toe, dining moderately at a mantel-shelf; the + great anxiety of Little Dorrit’s day was set at rest. + </p> + <p> + It was not easy to make out Little Dorrit’s face; she was so retiring, + plied her needle in such removed corners, and started away so scared if + encountered on the stairs. But it seemed to be a pale transparent face, + quick in expression, though not beautiful in feature, its soft hazel eyes + excepted. A delicately bent head, a tiny form, a quick little pair of busy + hands, and a shabby dress—it must needs have been very shabby to + look at all so, being so neat—were Little Dorrit as she sat at work. + </p> + <p> + For these particulars or generalities concerning Little Dorrit, Mr Arthur + was indebted in the course of the day to his own eyes and to Mrs Affery’s + tongue. If Mrs Affery had had any will or way of her own, it would + probably have been unfavourable to Little Dorrit. But as ‘them two clever + ones’—Mrs Affery’s perpetual reference, in whom her personality was + swallowed up—were agreed to accept Little Dorrit as a matter of + course, she had nothing for it but to follow suit. Similarly, if the two + clever ones had agreed to murder Little Dorrit by candlelight, Mrs Affery, + being required to hold the candle, would no doubt have done it. + </p> + <p> + In the intervals of roasting the partridge for the invalid chamber, and + preparing a baking-dish of beef and pudding for the dining-room, Mrs + Affery made the communications above set forth; invariably putting her + head in at the door again after she had taken it out, to enforce + resistance to the two clever ones. It appeared to have become a perfect + passion with Mrs Flintwinch, that the only son should be pitted against + them. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the day, too, Arthur looked through the whole house. Dull + and dark he found it. The gaunt rooms, deserted for years upon years, + seemed to have settled down into a gloomy lethargy from which nothing + could rouse them again. The furniture, at once spare and lumbering, hid in + the rooms rather than furnished them, and there was no colour in all the + house; such colour as had ever been there, had long ago started away on + lost sunbeams—got itself absorbed, perhaps, into flowers, + butterflies, plumage of birds, precious stones, what not. There was not + one straight floor from the foundation to the roof; the ceilings were so + fantastically clouded by smoke and dust, that old women might have told + fortunes in them better than in grouts of tea; the dead-cold hearths + showed no traces of having ever been warmed but in heaps of soot that had + tumbled down the chimneys, and eddied about in little dusky whirlwinds + when the doors were opened. In what had once been a drawing-room, there + were a pair of meagre mirrors, with dismal processions of black figures + carrying black garlands, walking round the frames; but even these were + short of heads and legs, and one undertaker-like Cupid had swung round on + its own axis and got upside down, and another had fallen off altogether. + The room Arthur Clennam’s deceased father had occupied for business + purposes, when he first remembered him, was so unaltered that he might + have been imagined still to keep it invisibly, as his visible relict kept + her room up-stairs; Jeremiah Flintwinch still going between them + negotiating. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0071m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0071m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0071.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> +His picture, dark and gloomy, earnestly speechless on the + wall, with the eyes intently looking at his son as they had looked when + life departed from them, seemed to urge him awfully to the task he had + attempted; but as to any yielding on the part of his mother, he had now no + hope, and as to any other means of setting his distrust at rest, he had + abandoned hope a long time. Down in the cellars, as up in the + bed-chambers, old objects that he well remembered were changed by age and + decay, but were still in their old places; even to empty beer-casks hoary + with cobwebs, and empty wine-bottles with fur and fungus choking up their + throats. There, too, among unusual bottle-racks and pale slants of light + from the yard above, was the strong room stored with old ledgers, which + had as musty and corrupt a smell as if they were regularly balanced, in + the dead small hours, by a nightly resurrection of old book-keepers. + </p> + <p> + The baking-dish was served up in a penitential manner on a shrunken cloth + at an end of the dining-table, at two o’clock, when he dined with Mr + Flintwinch, the new partner. Mr Flintwinch informed him that his mother + had recovered her equanimity now, and that he need not fear her again + alluding to what had passed in the morning. ‘And don’t you lay offences at + your father’s door, Mr Arthur,’ added Jeremiah, ‘once for all, don’t do + it! Now, we have done with the subject.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch had been already rearranging and dusting his own particular + little office, as if to do honour to his accession to new dignity. He + resumed this occupation when he was replete with beef, had sucked up all + the gravy in the baking-dish with the flat of his knife, and had drawn + liberally on a barrel of small beer in the scullery. Thus refreshed, he + tucked up his shirt-sleeves and went to work again; and Mr Arthur, + watching him as he set about it, plainly saw that his father’s picture, or + his father’s grave, would be as communicative with him as this old man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Affery, woman,’ said Mr Flintwinch, as she crossed the hall. ‘You + hadn’t made Mr Arthur’s bed when I was up there last. Stir yourself. + Bustle.’ + </p> + <p> + But Mr Arthur found the house so blank and dreary, and was so unwilling to + assist at another implacable consignment of his mother’s enemies (perhaps + himself among them) to mortal disfigurement and immortal ruin, that he + announced his intention of lodging at the coffee-house where he had left + his luggage. Mr Flintwinch taking kindly to the idea of getting rid of + him, and his mother being indifferent, beyond considerations of saving, to + most domestic arrangements that were not bounded by the walls of her own + chamber, he easily carried this point without new offence. Daily business + hours were agreed upon, which his mother, Mr Flintwinch, and he, were to + devote together to a necessary checking of books and papers; and he left + the home he had so lately found, with depressed heart. + </p> + <p> + But Little Dorrit? + </p> + <p> + The business hours, allowing for intervals of invalid regimen of oysters + and partridges, during which Clennam refreshed himself with a walk, were + from ten to six for about a fortnight. Sometimes Little Dorrit was + employed at her needle, sometimes not, sometimes appeared as a humble + visitor: which must have been her character on the occasion of his + arrival. His original curiosity augmented every day, as he watched for + her, saw or did not see her, and speculated about her. Influenced by his + predominant idea, he even fell into a habit of discussing with himself the + possibility of her being in some way associated with it. At last he + resolved to watch Little Dorrit and know more of her story. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 6. The Father of the Marshalsea + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hirty years ago there stood, a few doors short of the church of Saint + George, in the borough of Southwark, on the left-hand side of the way + going southward, the Marshalsea Prison. It had stood there many years + before, and it remained there some years afterwards; but it is gone now, + and the world is none the worse without it. + </p> + <p> + It was an oblong pile of barrack building, partitioned into squalid houses + standing back to back, so that there were no back rooms; environed by a + narrow paved yard, hemmed in by high walls duly spiked at top. Itself a + close and confined prison for debtors, it contained within it a much + closer and more confined jail for smugglers. Offenders against the revenue + laws, and defaulters to excise or customs who had incurred fines which + they were unable to pay, were supposed to be incarcerated behind an + iron-plated door closing up a second prison, consisting of a strong cell + or two, and a blind alley some yard and a half wide, which formed the + mysterious termination of the very limited skittle-ground in which the + Marshalsea debtors bowled down their troubles. + </p> + <p> + Supposed to be incarcerated there, because the time had rather outgrown + the strong cells and the blind alley. In practice they had come to be + considered a little too bad, though in theory they were quite as good as + ever; which may be observed to be the case at the present day with other + cells that are not at all strong, and with other blind alleys that are + stone-blind. Hence the smugglers habitually consorted with the debtors + (who received them with open arms), except at certain constitutional + moments when somebody came from some Office, to go through some form of + overlooking something which neither he nor anybody else knew anything + about. On these truly British occasions, the smugglers, if any, made a + feint of walking into the strong cells and the blind alley, while this + somebody pretended to do his something: and made a reality of walking out + again as soon as he hadn’t done it—neatly epitomising the + administration of most of the public affairs in our right little, tight + little, island. + </p> + <p> + There had been taken to the Marshalsea Prison, long before the day when + the sun shone on Marseilles and on the opening of this narrative, a debtor + with whom this narrative has some concern. + </p> + <p> + He was, at that time, a very amiable and very helpless middle-aged + gentleman, who was going out again directly. Necessarily, he was going out + again directly, because the Marshalsea lock never turned upon a debtor who + was not. He brought in a portmanteau with him, which he doubted its being + worth while to unpack; he was so perfectly clear—like all the rest + of them, the turnkey on the lock said—that he was going out again + directly. + </p> + <p> + He was a shy, retiring man; well-looking, though in an effeminate style; + with a mild voice, curling hair, and irresolute hands—rings upon the + fingers in those days—which nervously wandered to his trembling lip + a hundred times in the first half-hour of his acquaintance with the jail. + His principal anxiety was about his wife. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think, sir,’ he asked the turnkey, ‘that she will be very much + shocked, if she should come to the gate to-morrow morning?’ + </p> + <p> + The turnkey gave it as the result of his experience that some of ‘em was + and some of ‘em wasn’t. In general, more no than yes. ‘What like is she, + you see?’ he philosophically asked: ‘that’s what it hinges on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is very delicate and inexperienced indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That,’ said the turnkey, ‘is agen her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is so little used to go out alone,’ said the debtor, ‘that I am at a + loss to think how she will ever make her way here, if she walks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘P’raps,’ quoth the turnkey, ‘she’ll take a ackney coach.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps.’ The irresolute fingers went to the trembling lip. ‘I hope she + will. She may not think of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Or p’raps,’ said the turnkey, offering his suggestions from the the top + of his well-worn wooden stool, as he might have offered them to a child + for whose weakness he felt a compassion, ‘p’raps she’ll get her brother, + or her sister, to come along with her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She has no brother or sister.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Niece, nevy, cousin, serwant, young ‘ooman, greengrocer.—Dash it! + One or another on ‘em,’ said the turnkey, repudiating beforehand the + refusal of all his suggestions. + </p> + <p> + ‘I fear—I hope it is not against the rules—that she will bring + the children.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The children?’ said the turnkey. ‘And the rules? Why, lord set you up + like a corner pin, we’ve a reg’lar playground o’ children here. Children! + Why we swarm with ‘em. How many a you got?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two,’ said the debtor, lifting his irresolute hand to his lip again, and + turning into the prison. + </p> + <p> + The turnkey followed him with his eyes. ‘And you another,’ he observed to + himself, ‘which makes three on you. And your wife another, I’ll lay a + crown. Which makes four on you. And another coming, I’ll lay half-a-crown. + Which’ll make five on you. And I’ll go another seven and sixpence to name + which is the helplessest, the unborn baby or you!’ + </p> + <p> + He was right in all his particulars. She came next day with a little boy + of three years old, and a little girl of two, and he stood entirely + corroborated. + </p> + <p> + ‘Got a room now; haven’t you?’ the turnkey asked the debtor after a week + or two. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I have got a very good room.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any little sticks a coming to furnish it?’ said the turnkey. + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect a few necessary articles of furniture to be delivered by the + carrier, this afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Missis and little ‘uns a coming to keep you company?’ asked the turnkey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, yes, we think it better that we should not be scattered, even for a + few weeks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Even for a few weeks, <i>of</i> course,’ replied the turnkey. And he + followed him again with his eyes, and nodded his head seven times when he + was gone. + </p> + <p> + The affairs of this debtor were perplexed by a partnership, of which he + knew no more than that he had invested money in it; by legal matters of + assignment and settlement, conveyance here and conveyance there, suspicion + of unlawful preference of creditors in this direction, and of mysterious + spiriting away of property in that; and as nobody on the face of the earth + could be more incapable of explaining any single item in the heap of + confusion than the debtor himself, nothing comprehensible could be made of + his case. To question him in detail, and endeavour to reconcile his + answers; to closet him with accountants and sharp practitioners, learned + in the wiles of insolvency and bankruptcy; was only to put the case out at + compound interest and incomprehensibility. The irresolute fingers + fluttered more and more ineffectually about the trembling lip on every + such occasion, and the sharpest practitioners gave him up as a hopeless + job. + </p> + <p> + ‘Out?’ said the turnkey, ‘<i>he</i>’ll never get out, unless his creditors + take him by the shoulders and shove him out.’ + </p> + <p> + He had been there five or six months, when he came running to this turnkey + one forenoon to tell him, breathless and pale, that his wife was ill. + </p> + <p> + ‘As anybody might a known she would be,’ said the turnkey. + </p> + <p> + ‘We intended,’ he returned, ‘that she should go to a country lodging only + to-morrow. What am I to do! Oh, good heaven, what am I to do!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t waste your time in clasping your hands and biting your fingers,’ + responded the practical turnkey, taking him by the elbow, ‘but come along + with me.’ + </p> + <p> + The turnkey conducted him—trembling from head to foot, and + constantly crying under his breath, What was he to do! while his + irresolute fingers bedabbled the tears upon his face—up one of the + common staircases in the prison to a door on the garret story. Upon which + door the turnkey knocked with the handle of his key. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in!’ cried a voice inside. + </p> + <p> + The turnkey, opening the door, disclosed in a wretched, ill-smelling + little room, two hoarse, puffy, red-faced personages seated at a rickety + table, playing at all-fours, smoking pipes, and drinking brandy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Doctor,’ said the turnkey, ‘here’s a gentleman’s wife in want of you + without a minute’s loss of time!’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor’s friend was in the positive degree of hoarseness, puffiness, + red-facedness, all-fours, tobacco, dirt, and brandy; the doctor in the + comparative—hoarser, puffier, more red-faced, more all-fourey, + tobaccoer, dirtier, and brandier. The doctor was amazingly shabby, in a + torn and darned rough-weather sea-jacket, out at elbows and eminently + short of buttons (he had been in his time the experienced surgeon carried + by a passenger ship), the dirtiest white trousers conceivable by mortal + man, carpet slippers, and no visible linen. ‘Childbed?’ said the doctor. + ‘I’m the boy!’ With that the doctor took a comb from the chimney-piece and + stuck his hair upright—which appeared to be his way of washing + himself—produced a professional chest or case, of most abject + appearance, from the cupboard where his cup and saucer and coals were, + settled his chin in the frowsy wrapper round his neck, and became a + ghastly medical scarecrow. + </p> + <p> + The doctor and the debtor ran down-stairs, leaving the turnkey to return + to the lock, and made for the debtor’s room. All the ladies in the prison + had got hold of the news, and were in the yard. Some of them had already + taken possession of the two children, and were hospitably carrying them + off; others were offering loans of little comforts from their own scanty + store; others were sympathising with the greatest volubility. The + gentlemen prisoners, feeling themselves at a disadvantage, had for the + most part retired, not to say sneaked, to their rooms; from the open + windows of which some of them now complimented the doctor with whistles as + he passed below, while others, with several stories between them, + interchanged sarcastic references to the prevalent excitement. + </p> + <p> + It was a hot summer day, and the prison rooms were baking between the high + walls. In the debtor’s confined chamber, Mrs Bangham, charwoman and + messenger, who was not a prisoner (though she had been once), but was the + popular medium of communication with the outer world, had volunteered her + services as fly-catcher and general attendant. The walls and ceiling were + blackened with flies. Mrs Bangham, expert in sudden device, with one hand + fanned the patient with a cabbage leaf, and with the other set traps of + vinegar and sugar in gallipots; at the same time enunciating sentiments of + an encouraging and congratulatory nature, adapted to the occasion. + </p> + <p> + ‘The flies trouble you, don’t they, my dear?’ said Mrs Bangham. ‘But + p’raps they’ll take your mind off of it, and do you good. What between the + buryin ground, the grocer’s, the waggon-stables, and the paunch trade, the + Marshalsea flies gets very large. P’raps they’re sent as a consolation, if + we only know’d it. How are you now, my dear? No better? No, my dear, it + ain’t to be expected; you’ll be worse before you’re better, and you know + it, don’t you? Yes. That’s right! And to think of a sweet little cherub + being born inside the lock! Now ain’t it pretty, ain’t <i>that</i> + something to carry you through it pleasant? Why, we ain’t had such a thing + happen here, my dear, not for I couldn’t name the time when. And you a + crying too?’ said Mrs Bangham, to rally the patient more and more. ‘You! + Making yourself so famous! With the flies a falling into the gallipots by + fifties! And everything a going on so well! And here if there ain’t,’ said + Mrs Bangham as the door opened, ‘if there ain’t your dear gentleman along + with Dr Haggage! And now indeed we <i>are</i> complete, I <i>think</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + The doctor was scarcely the kind of apparition to inspire a patient with a + sense of absolute completeness, but as he presently delivered the opinion, + ‘We are as right as we can be, Mrs Bangham, and we shall come out of this + like a house afire;’ and as he and Mrs Bangham took possession of the poor + helpless pair, as everybody else and anybody else had always done, the + means at hand were as good on the whole as better would have been. The + special feature in Dr Haggage’s treatment of the case, was his + determination to keep Mrs Bangham up to the mark. As thus: + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Bangham,’ said the doctor, before he had been there twenty minutes, + ‘go outside and fetch a little brandy, or we shall have you giving in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir. But none on my accounts,’ said Mrs Bangham. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Bangham,’ returned the doctor, ‘I am in professional attendance on + this lady, and don’t choose to allow any discussion on your part. Go + outside and fetch a little brandy, or I foresee that you’ll break down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re to be obeyed, sir,’ said Mrs Bangham, rising. ‘If you was to put + your own lips to it, I think you wouldn’t be the worse, for you look but + poorly, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Bangham,’ returned the doctor, ‘I am not your business, thank you, + but you are mine. Never you mind <i>me</i>, if you please. What you have + got to do, is, to do as you are told, and to go and get what I bid you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Bangham submitted; and the doctor, having administered her potion, + took his own. He repeated the treatment every hour, being very determined + with Mrs Bangham. Three or four hours passed; the flies fell into the + traps by hundreds; and at length one little life, hardly stronger than + theirs, appeared among the multitude of lesser deaths. + </p> + <p> + ‘A very nice little girl indeed,’ said the doctor; ‘little, but + well-formed. Halloa, Mrs Bangham! You’re looking queer! You be off, ma’am, + this minute, and fetch a little more brandy, or we shall have you in + hysterics.’ + </p> + <p> + By this time, the rings had begun to fall from the debtor’s irresolute + hands, like leaves from a wintry tree. Not one was left upon them that + night, when he put something that chinked into the doctor’s greasy palm. + In the meantime Mrs Bangham had been out on an errand to a neighbouring + establishment decorated with three golden balls, where she was very well + known. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said the doctor, ‘thank you. Your good lady is quite + composed. Doing charmingly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very happy and very thankful to know it,’ said the debtor, ‘though I + little thought once, that—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That a child would be born to you in a place like this?’ said the doctor. + ‘Bah, bah, sir, what does it signify? A little more elbow-room is all we + want here. We are quiet here; we don’t get badgered here; there’s no + knocker here, sir, to be hammered at by creditors and bring a man’s heart + into his mouth. Nobody comes here to ask if a man’s at home, and to say + he’ll stand on the door mat till he is. Nobody writes threatening letters + about money to this place. It’s freedom, sir, it’s freedom! I have had + to-day’s practice at home and abroad, on a march, and aboard ship, and + I’ll tell you this: I don’t know that I have ever pursued it under such + quiet circumstances as here this day. Elsewhere, people are restless, + worried, hurried about, anxious respecting one thing, anxious respecting + another. Nothing of the kind here, sir. We have done all that—we + know the worst of it; we have got to the bottom, we can’t fall, and what + have we found? Peace. That’s the word for it. Peace.’ With this profession + of faith, the doctor, who was an old jail-bird, and was more sodden than + usual, and had the additional and unusual stimulus of money in his pocket, + returned to his associate and chum in hoarseness, puffiness, + red-facedness, all-fours, tobacco, dirt, and brandy. + </p> + <p> + Now, the debtor was a very different man from the doctor, but he had + already begun to travel, by his opposite segment of the circle, to the + same point. Crushed at first by his imprisonment, he had soon found a dull + relief in it. He was under lock and key; but the lock and key that kept + him in, kept numbers of his troubles out. If he had been a man with + strength of purpose to face those troubles and fight them, he might have + broken the net that held him, or broken his heart; but being what he was, + he languidly slipped into this smooth descent, and never more took one + step upward. + </p> + <p> + When he was relieved of the perplexed affairs that nothing would make + plain, through having them returned upon his hands by a dozen agents in + succession who could make neither beginning, middle, nor end of them or + him, he found his miserable place of refuge a quieter refuge than it had + been before. He had unpacked the portmanteau long ago; and his elder + children now played regularly about the yard, and everybody knew the baby, + and claimed a kind of proprietorship in her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, I’m getting proud of you,’ said his friend the turnkey, one day. + ‘You’ll be the oldest inhabitant soon. The Marshalsea wouldn’t be like the + Marshalsea now, without you and your family.’ + </p> + <p> + The turnkey really was proud of him. He would mention him in laudatory + terms to new-comers, when his back was turned. ‘You took notice of him,’ + he would say, ‘that went out of the lodge just now?’ + </p> + <p> + New-comer would probably answer Yes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brought up as a gentleman, he was, if ever a man was. Ed’cated at no end + of expense. Went into the Marshal’s house once to try a new piano for him. + Played it, I understand, like one o’clock—beautiful! As to languages—speaks + anything. We’ve had a Frenchman here in his time, and it’s my opinion he + knowed more French than the Frenchman did. We’ve had an Italian here in + his time, and he shut <i>him</i> up in about half a minute. You’ll find + some characters behind other locks, I don’t say you won’t; but if you want + the top sawyer in such respects as I’ve mentioned, you must come to the + Marshalsea.’ + </p> + <p> + When his youngest child was eight years old, his wife, who had long been + languishing away—of her own inherent weakness, not that she retained + any greater sensitiveness as to her place of abode than he did—went + upon a visit to a poor friend and old nurse in the country, and died + there. He remained shut up in his room for a fortnight afterwards; and an + attorney’s clerk, who was going through the Insolvent Court, engrossed an + address of condolence to him, which looked like a Lease, and which all the + prisoners signed. When he appeared again he was greyer (he had soon begun + to turn grey); and the turnkey noticed that his hands went often to his + trembling lips again, as they had used to do when he first came in. But he + got pretty well over it in a month or two; and in the meantime the + children played about the yard as regularly as ever, but in black. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs Bangham, long popular medium of communication with the outer + world, began to be infirm, and to be found oftener than usual comatose on + pavements, with her basket of purchases spilt, and the change of her + clients ninepence short. His son began to supersede Mrs Bangham, and to + execute commissions in a knowing manner, and to be of the prison + prisonous, of the streets streety. + </p> + <p> + Time went on, and the turnkey began to fail. His chest swelled, and his + legs got weak, and he was short of breath. The well-worn wooden stool was + ‘beyond him,’ he complained. He sat in an arm-chair with a cushion, and + sometimes wheezed so, for minutes together, that he couldn’t turn the key. + When he was overpowered by these fits, the debtor often turned it for him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You and me,’ said the turnkey, one snowy winter’s night when the lodge, + with a bright fire in it, was pretty full of company, ‘is the oldest + inhabitants. I wasn’t here myself above seven year before you. I shan’t + last long. When I’m off the lock for good and all, you’ll be the Father of + the Marshalsea.’ + </p> + <p> + The turnkey went off the lock of this world next day. His words were + remembered and repeated; and tradition afterwards handed down from + generation to generation—a Marshalsea generation might be calculated + as about three months—that the shabby old debtor with the soft + manner and the white hair, was the Father of the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + And he grew to be proud of the title. If any impostor had arisen to claim + it, he would have shed tears in resentment of the attempt to deprive him + of his rights. A disposition began to be perceived in him to exaggerate + the number of years he had been there; it was generally understood that + you must deduct a few from his account; he was vain, the fleeting + generations of debtors said. + </p> + <p> + All new-comers were presented to him. He was punctilious in the exaction + of this ceremony. The wits would perform the office of introduction with + overcharged pomp and politeness, but they could not easily overstep his + sense of its gravity. He received them in his poor room (he disliked an + introduction in the mere yard, as informal—a thing that might happen + to anybody), with a kind of bowed-down beneficence. They were welcome to + the Marshalsea, he would tell them. Yes, he was the Father of the place. + So the world was kind enough to call him; and so he was, if more than + twenty years of residence gave him a claim to the title. It looked small + at first, but there was very good company there—among a mixture—necessarily + a mixture—and very good air. + </p> + <p> + It became a not unusual circumstance for letters to be put under his door + at night, enclosing half-a-crown, two half-crowns, now and then at long + intervals even half-a-sovereign, for the Father of the Marshalsea. ‘With + the compliments of a collegian taking leave.’ He received the gifts as + tributes, from admirers, to a public character. Sometimes these + correspondents assumed facetious names, as the Brick, Bellows, Old + Gooseberry, Wideawake, Snooks, Mops, Cutaway, the Dogs-meat Man; but he + considered this in bad taste, and was always a little hurt by it. + </p> + <p> + In the fulness of time, this correspondence showing signs of wearing out, + and seeming to require an effort on the part of the correspondents to + which in the hurried circumstances of departure many of them might not be + equal, he established the custom of attending collegians of a certain + standing, to the gate, and taking leave of them there. The collegian under + treatment, after shaking hands, would occasionally stop to wrap up + something in a bit of paper, and would come back again calling ‘Hi!’ + </p> + <p> + He would look round surprised.‘Me?’ he would say, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + By this time the collegian would be up with him, and he would paternally + add, ‘What have you forgotten? What can I do for you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I forgot to leave this,’ the collegian would usually return, ‘for the + Father of the Marshalsea.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My good sir,’ he would rejoin, ‘he is infinitely obliged to you.’ But, to + the last, the irresolute hand of old would remain in the pocket into which + he had slipped the money during two or three turns about the yard, lest + the transaction should be too conspicuous to the general body of + collegians. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon he had been doing the honours of the place to a rather large + party of collegians, who happened to be going out, when, as he was coming + back, he encountered one from the poor side who had been taken in + execution for a small sum a week before, had ‘settled’ in the course of + that afternoon, and was going out too. The man was a mere Plasterer in his + working dress; had his wife with him, and a bundle; and was in high + spirits. + </p> + <p> + ‘God bless you, sir,’ he said in passing. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you,’ benignantly returned the Father of the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + They were pretty far divided, going their several ways, when the Plasterer + called out, ‘I say!—sir!’ and came back to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘It ain’t much,’ said the Plasterer, putting a little pile of halfpence in + his hand, ‘but it’s well meant.’ + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea had never been offered tribute in copper yet. + His children often had, and with his perfect acquiescence it had gone into + the common purse to buy meat that he had eaten, and drink that he had + drunk; but fustian splashed with white lime, bestowing halfpence on him, + front to front, was new. + </p> + <p> + ‘How dare you!’ he said to the man, and feebly burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + The Plasterer turned him towards the wall, that his face might not be + seen; and the action was so delicate, and the man was so penetrated with + repentance, and asked pardon so honestly, that he could make him no less + acknowledgment than, ‘I know you meant it kindly. Say no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bless your soul, sir,’ urged the Plasterer, ‘I did indeed. I’d do more by + you than the rest of ‘em do, I fancy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What would you do?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d come back to see you, after I was let out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me the money again,’ said the other, eagerly, ‘and I’ll keep it, and + never spend it. Thank you for it, thank you! I shall see you again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I live a week you shall.’ + </p> + <p> + They shook hands and parted. The collegians, assembled in Symposium in the + Snuggery that night, marvelled what had happened to their Father; he + walked so late in the shadows of the yard, and seemed so downcast. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 7. The Child of the Marshalsea + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he baby whose first draught of air had been tinctured with Doctor + Haggage’s brandy, was handed down among the generations of collegians, + like the tradition of their common parent. In the earlier stages of her + existence, she was handed down in a literal and prosaic sense; it being + almost a part of the entrance footing of every new collegian to nurse the + child who had been born in the college. + </p> + <p> + ‘By rights,’ remarked the turnkey when she was first shown to him, ‘I + ought to be her godfather.’ + </p> + <p> + The debtor irresolutely thought of it for a minute, and said, ‘Perhaps you + wouldn’t object to really being her godfather?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! <i>I</i> don’t object,’ replied the turnkey, ‘if you don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Thus it came to pass that she was christened one Sunday afternoon, when + the turnkey, being relieved, was off the lock; and that the turnkey went + up to the font of Saint George’s Church, and promised and vowed and + renounced on her behalf, as he himself related when he came back, ‘like a + good ‘un.’ + </p> + <p> + This invested the turnkey with a new proprietary share in the child, over + and above his former official one. When she began to walk and talk, he + became fond of her; bought a little arm-chair and stood it by the high + fender of the lodge fire-place; liked to have her company when he was on + the lock; and used to bribe her with cheap toys to come and talk to him. + The child, for her part, soon grew so fond of the turnkey that she would + come climbing up the lodge-steps of her own accord at all hours of the + day. When she fell asleep in the little armchair by the high fender, the + turnkey would cover her with his pocket-handkerchief; and when she sat in + it dressing and undressing a doll which soon came to be unlike dolls on + the other side of the lock, and to bear a horrible family resemblance to + Mrs Bangham—he would contemplate her from the top of his stool with + exceeding gentleness. Witnessing these things, the collegians would + express an opinion that the turnkey, who was a bachelor, had been cut out + by nature for a family man. But the turnkey thanked them, and said, ‘No, + on the whole it was enough to see other people’s children there.’ + </p> + <p> + At what period of her early life the little creature began to perceive + that it was not the habit of all the world to live locked up in narrow + yards surrounded by high walls with spikes at the top, would be a + difficult question to settle. But she was a very, very little creature + indeed, when she had somehow gained the knowledge that her clasp of her + father’s hand was to be always loosened at the door which the great key + opened; and that while her own light steps were free to pass beyond it, + his feet must never cross that line. A pitiful and plaintive look, with + which she had begun to regard him when she was still extremely young, was + perhaps a part of this discovery. + </p> + <p> + With a pitiful and plaintive look for everything, indeed, but with + something in it for only him that was like protection, this Child of the + Marshalsea and the child of the Father of the Marshalsea, sat by her + friend the turnkey in the lodge, kept the family room, or wandered about + the prison-yard, for the first eight years of her life. With a pitiful and + plaintive look for her wayward sister; for her idle brother; for the high + blank walls; for the faded crowd they shut in; for the games of the prison + children as they whooped and ran, and played at hide-and-seek, and made + the iron bars of the inner gateway ‘Home.’ + </p> + <p> + Wistful and wondering, she would sit in summer weather by the high fender + in the lodge, looking up at the sky through the barred window, until, when + she turned her eyes away, bars of light would arise between her and her + friend, and she would see him through a grating, too. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thinking of the fields,’ the turnkey said once, after watching her, + ‘ain’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where are they?’ she inquired. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, they’re—over there, my dear,’ said the turnkey, with a vague + flourish of his key. ‘Just about there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does anybody open them, and shut them? Are they locked?’ + </p> + <p> + The turnkey was discomfited. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Not in general.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are they very pretty, Bob?’ She called him Bob, by his own particular + request and instruction. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lovely. Full of flowers. There’s buttercups, and there’s daisies, and + there’s’—the turnkey hesitated, being short of floral nomenclature—‘there’s + dandelions, and all manner of games.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it very pleasant to be there, Bob?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Prime,’ said the turnkey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Was father ever there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hem!’ coughed the turnkey. ‘O yes, he was there, sometimes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is he sorry not to be there now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘N-not particular,’ said the turnkey. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor any of the people?’ she asked, glancing at the listless crowd within. + ‘O are you quite sure and certain, Bob?’ + </p> + <p> + At this difficult point of the conversation Bob gave in, and changed the + subject to hard-bake: always his last resource when he found his little + friend getting him into a political, social, or theological corner. But + this was the origin of a series of Sunday excursions that these two + curious companions made together. They used to issue from the lodge on + alternate Sunday afternoons with great gravity, bound for some meadows or + green lanes that had been elaborately appointed by the turnkey in the + course of the week; and there she picked grass and flowers to bring home, + while he smoked his pipe. Afterwards, there were tea-gardens, shrimps, + ale, and other delicacies; and then they would come back hand in hand, + unless she was more than usually tired, and had fallen asleep on his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + In those early days, the turnkey first began profoundly to consider a + question which cost him so much mental labour, that it remained + undetermined on the day of his death. He decided to will and bequeath his + little property of savings to his godchild, and the point arose how could + it be so ‘tied up’ as that only she should have the benefit of it? His + experience on the lock gave him such an acute perception of the enormous + difficulty of ‘tying up’ money with any approach to tightness, and + contrariwise of the remarkable ease with which it got loose, that through + a series of years he regularly propounded this knotty point to every new + insolvent agent and other professional gentleman who passed in and out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Supposing,’ he would say, stating the case with his key on the + professional gentleman’s waistcoat; ‘supposing a man wanted to leave his + property to a young female, and wanted to tie it up so that nobody else + should ever be able to make a grab at it; how would you tie up that + property?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Settle it strictly on herself,’ the professional gentleman would + complacently answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘But look here,’ quoth the turnkey. ‘Supposing she had, say a brother, say + a father, say a husband, who would be likely to make a grab at that + property when she came into it—how about that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be settled on herself, and they would have no more legal claim + on it than you,’ would be the professional answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop a bit,’ said the turnkey. ‘Supposing she was tender-hearted, and + they came over her. Where’s your law for tying it up then?’ + </p> + <p> + The deepest character whom the turnkey sounded, was unable to produce his + law for tying such a knot as that. So, the turnkey thought about it all + his life, and died intestate after all. + </p> + <p> + But that was long afterwards, when his god-daughter was past sixteen. The + first half of that space of her life was only just accomplished, when her + pitiful and plaintive look saw her father a widower. From that time the + protection that her wondering eyes had expressed towards him, became + embodied in action, and the Child of the Marshalsea took upon herself a + new relation towards the Father. + </p> + <p> + At first, such a baby could do little more than sit with him, deserting + her livelier place by the high fender, and quietly watching him. But this + made her so far necessary to him that he became accustomed to her, and + began to be sensible of missing her when she was not there. Through this + little gate, she passed out of childhood into the care-laden world. + </p> + <p> + What her pitiful look saw, at that early time, in her father, in her + sister, in her brother, in the jail; how much, or how little of the + wretched truth it pleased God to make visible to her; lies hidden with + many mysteries. It is enough that she was inspired to be something which + was not what the rest were, and to be that something, different and + laborious, for the sake of the rest. Inspired? Yes. Shall we speak of the + inspiration of a poet or a priest, and not of the heart impelled by love + and self-devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life! + </p> + <p> + With no earthly friend to help her, or so much as to see her, but the one + so strangely assorted; with no knowledge even of the common daily tone and + habits of the common members of the free community who are not shut up in + prisons; born and bred in a social condition, false even with a reference + to the falsest condition outside the walls; drinking from infancy of a + well whose waters had their own peculiar stain, their own unwholesome and + unnatural taste; the Child of the Marshalsea began her womanly life. + </p> + <p> + No matter through what mistakes and discouragements, what ridicule (not + unkindly meant, but deeply felt) of her youth and little figure, what + humble consciousness of her own babyhood and want of strength, even in the + matter of lifting and carrying; through how much weariness and + hopelessness, and how many secret tears; she drudged on, until recognised + as useful, even indispensable. That time came. She took the place of + eldest of the three, in all things but precedence; was the head of the + fallen family; and bore, in her own heart, its anxieties and shames. + </p> + <p> + At thirteen, she could read and keep accounts, that is, could put down in + words and figures how much the bare necessaries that they wanted would + cost, and how much less they had to buy them with. She had been, by + snatches of a few weeks at a time, to an evening school outside, and got + her sister and brother sent to day-schools by desultory starts, during + three or four years. There was no instruction for any of them at home; but + she knew well—no one better—that a man so broken as to be the + Father of the Marshalsea, could be no father to his own children. + </p> + <p> + To these scanty means of improvement, she added another of her own + contriving. Once, among the heterogeneous crowd of inmates there appeared + a dancing-master. Her sister had a great desire to learn the + dancing-master’s art, and seemed to have a taste that way. At thirteen + years old, the Child of the Marshalsea presented herself to the + dancing-master, with a little bag in her hand, and preferred her humble + petition. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you please, I was born here, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! You are the young lady, are you?’ said the dancing-master, surveying + the small figure and uplifted face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what can I do for you?’ said the dancing-master. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing for me, sir, thank you,’ anxiously undrawing the strings of the + little bag; ‘but if, while you stay here, you could be so kind as to teach + my sister cheap—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My child, I’ll teach her for nothing,’ said the dancing-master, shutting + up the bag. He was as good-natured a dancing-master as ever danced to the + Insolvent Court, and he kept his word. The sister was so apt a pupil, and + the dancing-master had such abundant leisure to bestow upon her (for it + took him a matter of ten weeks to set to his creditors, lead off, turn the + Commissioners, and right and left back to his professional pursuits), that + wonderful progress was made. Indeed the dancing-master was so proud of it, + and so wishful to display it before he left to a few select friends among + the collegians, that at six o’clock on a certain fine morning, a minuet de + la cour came off in the yard—the college-rooms being of too confined + proportions for the purpose—in which so much ground was covered, and + the steps were so conscientiously executed, that the dancing-master, + having to play the kit besides, was thoroughly blown. + </p> + <p> + The success of this beginning, which led to the dancing-master’s + continuing his instruction after his release, emboldened the poor child to + try again. She watched and waited months for a seamstress. In the fulness + of time a milliner came in, and to her she repaired on her own behalf. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am,’ she said, looking timidly round the door of + the milliner, whom she found in tears and in bed: ‘but I was born here.’ + </p> + <p> + Everybody seemed to hear of her as soon as they arrived; for the milliner + sat up in bed, drying her eyes, and said, just as the dancing-master had + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! <i>You</i> are the child, are you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry I haven’t got anything for you,’ said the milliner, shaking + her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not that, ma’am. If you please I want to learn needle-work.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should you do that,’ returned the milliner, ‘with me before you? It + has not done me much good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing—whatever it is—seems to have done anybody much good + who comes here,’ she returned in all simplicity; ‘but I want to learn just + the same.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid you are so weak, you see,’ the milliner objected. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think I am weak, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you are so very, very little, you see,’ the milliner objected. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I am afraid I am very little indeed,’ returned the Child of the + Marshalsea; and so began to sob over that unfortunate defect of hers, + which came so often in her way. The milliner—who was not morose or + hard-hearted, only newly insolvent—was touched, took her in hand + with goodwill, found her the most patient and earnest of pupils, and made + her a cunning work-woman in course of time. + </p> + <p> + In course of time, and in the very self-same course of time, the Father of + the Marshalsea gradually developed a new flower of character. The more + Fatherly he grew as to the Marshalsea, and the more dependent he became on + the contributions of his changing family, the greater stand he made by his + forlorn gentility. With the same hand that he pocketed a collegian’s + half-crown half an hour ago, he would wipe away the tears that streamed + over his cheeks if any reference were made to his daughters’ earning their + bread. So, over and above other daily cares, the Child of the Marshalsea + had always upon her the care of preserving the genteel fiction that they + were all idle beggars together. + </p> + <p> + The sister became a dancer. There was a ruined uncle in the family group—ruined + by his brother, the Father of the Marshalsea, and knowing no more how than + his ruiner did, but accepting the fact as an inevitable certainty—on + whom her protection devolved. Naturally a retired and simple man, he had + shown no particular sense of being ruined at the time when that calamity + fell upon him, further than that he left off washing himself when the + shock was announced, and never took to that luxury any more. He had been a + very indifferent musical amateur in his better days; and when he fell with + his brother, resorted for support to playing a clarionet as dirty as + himself in a small Theatre Orchestra. It was the theatre in which his + niece became a dancer; he had been a fixture there a long time when she + took her poor station in it; and he accepted the task of serving as her + escort and guardian, just as he would have accepted an illness, a legacy, + a feast, starvation—anything but soap. + </p> + <p> + To enable this girl to earn her few weekly shillings, it was necessary for + the Child of the Marshalsea to go through an elaborate form with the + Father. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny is not going to live with us just now, father. She will be here a + good deal in the day, but she is going to live outside with uncle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You surprise me. Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think uncle wants a companion, father. He should be attended to, and + looked after.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A companion? He passes much of his time here. And you attend to him and + look after him, Amy, a great deal more than ever your sister will. You all + go out so much; you all go out so much.’ + </p> + <p> + This was to keep up the ceremony and pretence of his having no idea that + Amy herself went out by the day to work. + </p> + <p> + ‘But we are always glad to come home, father; now, are we not? And as to + Fanny, perhaps besides keeping uncle company and taking care of him, it + may be as well for her not quite to live here, always. She was not born + here as I was, you know, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Amy, well. I don’t quite follow you, but it’s natural I suppose + that Fanny should prefer to be outside, and even that you often should, + too. So, you and Fanny and your uncle, my dear, shall have your own way. + Good, good. I’ll not meddle; don’t mind me.’ + </p> + <p> + To get her brother out of the prison; out of the succession to Mrs Bangham + in executing commissions, and out of the slang interchange with very + doubtful companions consequent upon both; was her hardest task. At + eighteen he would have dragged on from hand to mouth, from hour to hour, + from penny to penny, until eighty. Nobody got into the prison from whom he + derived anything useful or good, and she could find no patron for him but + her old friend and godfather. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Bob,’ said she, ‘what is to become of poor Tip?’ His name was + Edward, and Ted had been transformed into Tip, within the walls. + </p> + <p> + The turnkey had strong private opinions as to what would become of poor + Tip, and had even gone so far with the view of averting their fulfilment, + as to sound Tip in reference to the expediency of running away and going + to serve his country. But Tip had thanked him, and said he didn’t seem to + care for his country. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, my dear,’ said the turnkey, ‘something ought to be done with him. + Suppose I try and get him into the law?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That would be so good of you, Bob!’ + </p> + <p> + The turnkey had now two points to put to the professional gentlemen as + they passed in and out. He put this second one so perseveringly that a + stool and twelve shillings a week were at last found for Tip in the office + of an attorney in a great National Palladium called the Palace Court; at + that time one of a considerable list of everlasting bulwarks to the + dignity and safety of Albion, whose places know them no more. + </p> + <p> + Tip languished in Clifford’s Inns for six months, and at the expiration of + that term sauntered back one evening with his hands in his pockets, and + incidentally observed to his sister that he was not going back again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not going back again?’ said the poor little anxious Child of the + Marshalsea, always calculating and planning for Tip, in the front rank of + her charges. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so tired of it,’ said Tip, ‘that I have cut it.’ + </p> + <p> + Tip tired of everything. With intervals of Marshalsea lounging, and Mrs + Bangham succession, his small second mother, aided by her trusty friend, + got him into a warehouse, into a market garden, into the hop trade, into + the law again, into an auctioneers, into a brewery, into a stockbroker’s, + into the law again, into a coach office, into a waggon office, into the + law again, into a general dealer’s, into a distillery, into the law again, + into a wool house, into a dry goods house, into the Billingsgate trade, + into the foreign fruit trade, and into the docks. But whatever Tip went + into, he came out of tired, announcing that he had cut it. Wherever he + went, this foredoomed Tip appeared to take the prison walls with him, and + to set them up in such trade or calling; and to prowl about within their + narrow limits in the old slip-shod, purposeless, down-at-heel way; until + the real immovable Marshalsea walls asserted their fascination over him, + and brought him back. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, the brave little creature did so fix her heart on her + brother’s rescue, that while he was ringing out these doleful changes, she + pinched and scraped enough together to ship him for Canada. When he was + tired of nothing to do, and disposed in its turn to cut even that, he + graciously consented to go to Canada. And there was grief in her bosom + over parting with him, and joy in the hope of his being put in a straight + course at last. + </p> + <p> + ‘God bless you, dear Tip. Don’t be too proud to come and see us, when you + have made your fortune.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right!’ said Tip, and went. + </p> + <p> + But not all the way to Canada; in fact, not further than Liverpool. After + making the voyage to that port from London, he found himself so strongly + impelled to cut the vessel, that he resolved to walk back again. Carrying + out which intention, he presented himself before her at the expiration of + a month, in rags, without shoes, and much more tired than ever. + </p> + <p> + At length, after another interval of successorship to Mrs Bangham, he + found a pursuit for himself, and announced it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, I have got a situation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you really and truly, Tip?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right. I shall do now. You needn’t look anxious about me any more, + old girl.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it, Tip?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you know Slingo by sight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the man they call the dealer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the chap. He’ll be out on Monday, and he’s going to give me a + berth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is he a dealer in, Tip?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Horses. All right! I shall do now, Amy.’ + </p> + <p> + She lost sight of him for months afterwards, and only heard from him once. + A whisper passed among the elder collegians that he had been seen at a + mock auction in Moorfields, pretending to buy plated articles for massive + silver, and paying for them with the greatest liberality in bank notes; + but it never reached her ears. One evening she was alone at work—standing + up at the window, to save the twilight lingering above the wall—when + he opened the door and walked in. + </p> + <p> + She kissed and welcomed him; but was afraid to ask him any questions. He + saw how anxious and timid she was, and appeared sorry. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid, Amy, you’ll be vexed this time. Upon my life I am!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very sorry to hear you say so, Tip. Have you come back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why—yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not expecting this time that what you had found would answer very well, I + am less surprised and sorry than I might have been, Tip.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! But that’s not the worst of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the worst of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t look so startled. No, Amy, not the worst of it. I have come back, + you see; but—<i>don’t</i> look so startled—I have come back in + what I may call a new way. I am off the volunteer list altogether. I am in + now, as one of the regulars.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Don’t say you are a prisoner, Tip! Don’t, don’t!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I don’t want to say it,’ he returned in a reluctant tone; ‘but if + you can’t understand me without my saying it, what am I to do? I am in for + forty pound odd.’ + </p> + <p> + For the first time in all those years, she sunk under her cares. She + cried, with her clasped hands lifted above her head, that it would kill + their father if he ever knew it; and fell down at Tip’s graceless feet. + </p> + <p> + It was easier for Tip to bring her to her senses than for her to bring <i>him</i> + to understand that the Father of the Marshalsea would be beside himself if + he knew the truth. The thing was incomprehensible to Tip, and altogether a + fanciful notion. He yielded to it in that light only, when he submitted to + her entreaties, backed by those of his uncle and sister. There was no want + of precedent for his return; it was accounted for to the father in the + usual way; and the collegians, with a better comprehension of the pious + fraud than Tip, supported it loyally. + </p> + <p> + This was the life, and this the history, of the child of the Marshalsea at + twenty-two. With a still surviving attachment to the one miserable yard + and block of houses as her birthplace and home, she passed to and fro in + it shrinkingly now, with a womanly consciousness that she was pointed out + to every one. Since she had begun to work beyond the walls, she had found + it necessary to conceal where she lived, and to come and go as secretly as + she could, between the free city and the iron gates, outside of which she + had never slept in her life. Her original timidity had grown with this + concealment, and her light step and her little figure shunned the thronged + streets while they passed along them. + </p> + <p> + Worldly wise in hard and poor necessities, she was innocent in all things + else. Innocent, in the mist through which she saw her father, and the + prison, and the turbid living river that flowed through it and flowed on. + </p> + <p> + This was the life, and this the history, of Little Dorrit; now going home + upon a dull September evening, observed at a distance by Arthur Clennam. + This was the life, and this the history, of Little Dorrit; turning at the + end of London Bridge, recrossing it, going back again, passing on to Saint + George’s Church, turning back suddenly once more, and flitting in at the + open outer gate and little court-yard of the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 8. The Lock + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>rthur Clennam stood in the street, waiting to ask some passer-by what + place that was. He suffered a few people to pass him in whose face there + was no encouragement to make the inquiry, and still stood pausing in the + street, when an old man came up and turned into the courtyard. + </p> + <p> + He stooped a good deal, and plodded along in a slow pre-occupied manner, + which made the bustling London thoroughfares no very safe resort for him. + He was dirtily and meanly dressed, in a threadbare coat, once blue, + reaching to his ankles and buttoned to his chin, where it vanished in the + pale ghost of a velvet collar. A piece of red cloth with which that + phantom had been stiffened in its lifetime was now laid bare, and poked + itself up, at the back of the old man’s neck, into a confusion of grey + hair and rusty stock and buckle which altogether nearly poked his hat off. + A greasy hat it was, and a napless; impending over his eyes, cracked and + crumpled at the brim, and with a wisp of pocket-handkerchief dangling out + below it. His trousers were so long and loose, and his shoes so clumsy and + large, that he shuffled like an elephant; though how much of this was + gait, and how much trailing cloth and leather, no one could have told. + Under one arm he carried a limp and worn-out case, containing some wind + instrument; in the same hand he had a pennyworth of snuff in a little + packet of whitey-brown paper, from which he slowly comforted his poor blue + old nose with a lengthened-out pinch, as Arthur Clennam looked at him. + </p> + <p> + To this old man crossing the court-yard, he preferred his inquiry, + touching him on the shoulder. The old man stopped and looked round, with + the expression in his weak grey eyes of one whose thoughts had been far + off, and who was a little dull of hearing also. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, sir,’ said Arthur, repeating his question, ‘what is this place?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay! This place?’ returned the old man, staying his pinch of snuff on its + road, and pointing at the place without looking at it. ‘This is the + Marshalsea, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The debtors’ prison?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said the old man, with the air of deeming it not quite necessary to + insist upon that designation, ‘the debtors’ prison.’ + </p> + <p> + He turned himself about, and went on. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Arthur, stopping him once more, ‘but will you + allow me to ask you another question? Can any one go in here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any one can <i>go in</i>,’ replied the old man; plainly adding by the + significance of his emphasis, ‘but it is not every one who can go out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me once more. Are you familiar with the place?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ returned the old man, squeezing his little packet of snuff in his + hand, and turning upon his interrogator as if such questions hurt him. ‘I + am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg you to excuse me. I am not impertinently curious, but have a good + object. Do you know the name of Dorrit here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My name, sir,’ replied the old man most unexpectedly, ‘is Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur pulled off his hat to him. ‘Grant me the favour of half-a-dozen + words. I was wholly unprepared for your announcement, and hope that + assurance is my sufficient apology for having taken the liberty of + addressing you. I have recently come home to England after a long absence. + I have seen at my mother’s—Mrs Clennam in the city—a young + woman working at her needle, whom I have only heard addressed or spoken of + as Little Dorrit. I have felt sincerely interested in her, and have had a + great desire to know something more about her. I saw her, not a minute + before you came up, pass in at that door.’ + </p> + <p> + The old man looked at him attentively. ‘Are you a sailor, sir?’ he asked. + He seemed a little disappointed by the shake of the head that replied to + him. ‘Not a sailor? I judged from your sunburnt face that you might be. + Are you in earnest, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do assure you that I am, and do entreat you to believe that I am, in + plain earnest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know very little of the world, sir,’ returned the other, who had a weak + and quavering voice. ‘I am merely passing on, like the shadow over the + sun-dial. It would be worth no man’s while to mislead me; it would really + be too easy—too poor a success, to yield any satisfaction. The young + woman whom you saw go in here is my brother’s child. My brother is William + Dorrit; I am Frederick. You say you have seen her at your mother’s (I know + your mother befriends her), you have felt an interest in her, and you wish + to know what she does here. Come and see.’ + </p> + <p> + He went on again, and Arthur accompanied him. + </p> + <p> + ‘My brother,’ said the old man, pausing on the step and slowly facing + round again, ‘has been here many years; and much that happens even among + ourselves, out of doors, is kept from him for reasons that I needn’t enter + upon now. Be so good as to say nothing of my niece’s working at her + needle. Be so good as to say nothing that goes beyond what is said among + us. If you keep within our bounds, you cannot well be wrong. Now! Come and + see.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur followed him down a narrow entry, at the end of which a key was + turned, and a strong door was opened from within. It admitted them into a + lodge or lobby, across which they passed, and so through another door and + a grating into the prison. The old man always plodding on before, turned + round, in his slow, stiff, stooping manner, when they came to the turnkey + on duty, as if to present his companion. The turnkey nodded; and the + companion passed in without being asked whom he wanted. + </p> + <p> + The night was dark; and the prison lamps in the yard, and the candles in + the prison windows faintly shining behind many sorts of wry old curtain + and blind, had not the air of making it lighter. A few people loitered + about, but the greater part of the population was within doors. The old + man, taking the right-hand side of the yard, turned in at the third or + fourth doorway, and began to ascend the stairs. ‘They are rather dark, + sir, but you will not find anything in the way.’ + </p> + <p> + He paused for a moment before opening a door on the second story. He had + no sooner turned the handle than the visitor saw Little Dorrit, and saw + the reason of her setting so much store by dining alone. + </p> + <p> + She had brought the meat home that she should have eaten herself, and was + already warming it on a gridiron over the fire for her father, clad in an + old grey gown and a black cap, awaiting his supper at the table. A clean + cloth was spread before him, with knife, fork, and spoon, salt-cellar, + pepper-box, glass, and pewter ale-pot. Such zests as his particular little + phial of cayenne pepper and his pennyworth of pickles in a saucer, were + not wanting. + </p> + <p> + She started, coloured deeply, and turned white. The visitor, more with his + eyes than by the slight impulsive motion of his hand, entreated her to be + reassured and to trust him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I found this gentleman,’ said the uncle—‘Mr Clennam, William, son + of Amy’s friend—at the outer gate, wishful, as he was going by, of + paying his respects, but hesitating whether to come in or not. This is my + brother William, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ said Arthur, very doubtful what to say, ‘that my respect for + your daughter may explain and justify my desire to be presented to you, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ returned the other, rising, taking his cap off in the flat + of his hand, and so holding it, ready to put on again, ‘you do me honour. + You are welcome, sir;’ with a low bow. ‘Frederick, a chair. Pray sit down, + Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + He put his black cap on again as he had taken it off, and resumed his own + seat. There was a wonderful air of benignity and patronage in his manner. + These were the ceremonies with which he received the collegians. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are welcome to the Marshalsea, sir. I have welcomed many gentlemen to + these walls. Perhaps you are aware—my daughter Amy may have + mentioned that I am the Father of this place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I—so I have understood,’ said Arthur, dashing at the assertion. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know, I dare say, that my daughter Amy was born here. A good girl, + sir, a dear girl, and long a comfort and support to me. Amy, my dear, put + this dish on; Mr Clennam will excuse the primitive customs to which we are + reduced here. Is it a compliment to ask you if you would do me the honour, + sir, to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ returned Arthur. ‘Not a morsel.’ + </p> + <p> + He felt himself quite lost in wonder at the manner of the man, and that + the probability of his daughter’s having had a reserve as to her family + history, should be so far out of his mind. + </p> + <p> + She filled his glass, put all the little matters on the table ready to his + hand, and then sat beside him while he ate his supper. Evidently in + observance of their nightly custom, she put some bread before herself, and + touched his glass with her lips; but Arthur saw she was troubled and took + nothing. Her look at her father, half admiring him and proud of him, half + ashamed for him, all devoted and loving, went to his inmost heart. + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea condescended towards his brother as an + amiable, well-meaning man; a private character, who had not arrived at + distinction. ‘Frederick,’ said he, ‘you and Fanny sup at your lodgings + to-night, I know. What have you done with Fanny, Frederick?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is walking with Tip.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tip—as you may know—is my son, Mr Clennam. He has been a + little wild, and difficult to settle, but his introduction to the world + was rather’—he shrugged his shoulders with a faint sigh, and looked + round the room—‘a little adverse. Your first visit here, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My first.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You could hardly have been here since your boyhood without my knowledge. + It very seldom happens that anybody—of any pretensions—any + pretensions—comes here without being presented to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As many as forty or fifty in a day have been introduced to my brother,’ + said Frederick, faintly lighting up with a ray of pride. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes!’ the Father of the Marshalsea assented. ‘We have even exceeded that + number. On a fine Sunday in term time, it is quite a Levee—quite a + Levee. Amy, my dear, I have been trying half the day to remember the name + of the gentleman from Camberwell who was introduced to me last Christmas + week by that agreeable coal-merchant who was remanded for six months.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t remember his name, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Frederick, do <i>you</i> remember his name?’ + </p> + <p> + Frederick doubted if he had ever heard it. No one could doubt that + Frederick was the last person upon earth to put such a question to, with + any hope of information. + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean,’ said his brother, ‘the gentleman who did that handsome action + with so much delicacy. Ha! Tush! The name has quite escaped me. Mr + Clennam, as I have happened to mention handsome and delicate action, you + may like, perhaps, to know what it was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very much,’ said Arthur, withdrawing his eyes from the delicate head + beginning to droop and the pale face with a new solicitude stealing over + it. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is so generous, and shows so much fine feeling, that it is almost a + duty to mention it. I said at the time that I always would mention it on + every suitable occasion, without regard to personal sensitiveness. A—well—a—it’s + of no use to disguise the fact—you must know, Mr Clennam, that it + does sometimes occur that people who come here desire to offer some little—Testimonial—to + the Father of the place.’ + </p> + <p> + To see her hand upon his arm in mute entreaty half-repressed, and her + timid little shrinking figure turning away, was to see a sad, sad sight. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sometimes,’ he went on in a low, soft voice, agitated, and clearing his + throat every now and then; ‘sometimes—hem—it takes one shape + and sometimes another; but it is generally—ha—Money. And it + is, I cannot but confess it, it is too often—hem—acceptable. + This gentleman that I refer to, was presented to me, Mr Clennam, in a + manner highly gratifying to my feelings, and conversed not only with great + politeness, but with great—ahem—information.’ All this time, + though he had finished his supper, he was nervously going about his plate + with his knife and fork, as if some of it were still before him. ‘It + appeared from his conversation that he had a garden, though he was + delicate of mentioning it at first, as gardens are—hem—are not + accessible to me. But it came out, through my admiring a very fine cluster + of geranium—beautiful cluster of geranium to be sure—which he + had brought from his conservatory. On my taking notice of its rich colour, + he showed me a piece of paper round it, on which was written, “For the + Father of the Marshalsea,” and presented it to me. But this was—hem—not + all. He made a particular request, on taking leave, that I would remove + the paper in half an hour. I—ha—I did so; and I found that it + contained—ahem—two guineas. I assure you, Mr Clennam, I have + received—hem—Testimonials in many ways, and of many degrees of + value, and they have always been—ha—unfortunately acceptable; + but I never was more pleased than with this—ahem—this + particular Testimonial.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur was in the act of saying the little he could say on such a theme, + when a bell began to ring, and footsteps approached the door. A pretty + girl of a far better figure and much more developed than Little Dorrit, + though looking much younger in the face when the two were observed + together, stopped in the doorway on seeing a stranger; and a young man who + was with her, stopped too. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, Fanny. My eldest daughter and my son, Mr Clennam. The bell is + a signal for visitors to retire, and so they have come to say good night; + but there is plenty of time, plenty of time. Girls, Mr Clennam will excuse + any household business you may have together. He knows, I dare say, that I + have but one room here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only want my clean dress from Amy, father,’ said the second girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I my clothes,’ said Tip. + </p> + <p> + Amy opened a drawer in an old piece of furniture that was a chest of + drawers above and a bedstead below, and produced two little bundles, which + she handed to her brother and sister. ‘Mended and made up?’ Clennam heard + the sister ask in a whisper. To which Amy answered ‘Yes.’ He had risen + now, and took the opportunity of glancing round the room. The bare walls + had been coloured green, evidently by an unskilled hand, and were poorly + decorated with a few prints. The window was curtained, and the floor + carpeted; and there were shelves and pegs, and other such conveniences, + that had accumulated in the course of years. It was a close, confined + room, poorly furnished; and the chimney smoked to boot, or the tin screen + at the top of the fireplace was superfluous; but constant pains and care + had made it neat, and even, after its kind, comfortable. + </p> + <p> + All the while the bell was ringing, and the uncle was anxious to go. + ‘Come, Fanny, come, Fanny,’ he said, with his ragged clarionet case under + his arm; ‘the lock, child, the lock!’ + </p> + <p> + Fanny bade her father good night, and whisked off airily. Tip had already + clattered down-stairs. ‘Now, Mr Clennam,’ said the uncle, looking back as + he shuffled out after them, ‘the lock, sir, the lock.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Clennam had two things to do before he followed; one, to offer his + testimonial to the Father of the Marshalsea, without giving pain to his + child; the other to say something to that child, though it were but a + word, in explanation of his having come there. + </p> + <p> + ‘Allow me,’ said the Father, ‘to see you down-stairs.’ + </p> + <p> + She had slipped out after the rest, and they were alone. ‘Not on any + account,’ said the visitor, hurriedly. ‘Pray allow me to—’ chink, + chink, chink. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ said the Father, ‘I am deeply, deeply—’ But his + visitor had shut up his hand to stop the clinking, and had gone + down-stairs with great speed. + </p> + <p> + He saw no Little Dorrit on his way down, or in the yard. The last two or + three stragglers were hurrying to the lodge, and he was following, when he + caught sight of her in the doorway of the first house from the entrance. + He turned back hastily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray forgive me,’ he said, ‘for speaking to you here; pray forgive me for + coming here at all! I followed you to-night. I did so, that I might + endeavour to render you and your family some service. You know the terms + on which I and my mother are, and may not be surprised that I have + preserved our distant relations at her house, lest I should + unintentionally make her jealous, or resentful, or do you any injury in + her estimation. What I have seen here, in this short time, has greatly + increased my heartfelt wish to be a friend to you. It would recompense me + for much disappointment if I could hope to gain your confidence.’ + </p> + <p> + She was scared at first, but seemed to take courage while he spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very good, sir. You speak very earnestly to me. But I—but I + wish you had not watched me.’ + </p> + <p> + He understood the emotion with which she said it, to arise in her father’s + behalf; and he respected it, and was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Clennam has been of great service to me; I don’t know what we should + have done without the employment she has given me; I am afraid it may not + be a good return to become secret with her; I can say no more to-night, + sir. I am sure you mean to be kind to us. Thank you, thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me ask you one question before I leave. Have you known my mother + long?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think two years, sir,—The bell has stopped.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How did you know her first? Did she send here for you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. She does not even know that I live here. We have a friend, father and + I—a poor labouring man, but the best of friends—and I wrote + out that I wished to do needlework, and gave his address. And he got what + I wrote out displayed at a few places where it cost nothing, and Mrs + Clennam found me that way, and sent for me. The gate will be locked, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + She was so tremulous and agitated, and he was so moved by compassion for + her, and by deep interest in her story as it dawned upon him, that he + could scarcely tear himself away. But the stoppage of the bell, and the + quiet in the prison, were a warning to depart; and with a few hurried + words of kindness he left her gliding back to her father. + </p> + <p> + But he remained too late. The inner gate was locked, and the lodge closed. + After a little fruitless knocking with his hand, he was standing there + with the disagreeable conviction upon him that he had got to get through + the night, when a voice accosted him from behind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Caught, eh?’ said the voice. ‘You won’t go home till morning. Oh! It’s + you, is it, Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + The voice was Tip’s; and they stood looking at one another in the + prison-yard, as it began to rain. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ve done it,’ observed Tip; ‘you must be sharper than that next time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are locked in too,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe I am!’ said Tip, sarcastically. ‘About! But not in your way. I + belong to the shop, only my sister has a theory that our governor must + never know it. I don’t see why, myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can I get any shelter?’ asked Arthur. ‘What had I better do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We had better get hold of Amy first of all,’ said Tip, referring any + difficulty to her as a matter of course. + </p> + <p> + ‘I would rather walk about all night—it’s not much to do—than + give that trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t do that, if you don’t mind paying for a bed. If you don’t + mind paying, they’ll make you up one on the Snuggery table, under the + circumstances. If you’ll come along, I’ll introduce you there.’ + </p> + <p> + As they passed down the yard, Arthur looked up at the window of the room + he had lately left, where the light was still burning. ‘Yes, sir,’ said + Tip, following his glance. ‘That’s the governor’s. She’ll sit with him for + another hour reading yesterday’s paper to him, or something of that sort; + and then she’ll come out like a little ghost, and vanish away without a + sound.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The governor sleeps up in the room, and she has a lodging at the + turnkey’s. First house there,’ said Tip, pointing out the doorway into + which she had retired. ‘First house, sky parlour. She pays twice as much + for it as she would for one twice as good outside. But she stands by the + governor, poor dear girl, day and night.’ + </p> + <p> + This brought them to the tavern-establishment at the upper end of the + prison, where the collegians had just vacated their social evening club. + The apartment on the ground-floor in which it was held, was the Snuggery + in question; the presidential tribune of the chairman, the pewter-pots, + glasses, pipes, tobacco-ashes, and general flavour of members, were still + as that convivial institution had left them on its adjournment. The + Snuggery had two of the qualities popularly held to be essential to grog + for ladies, in respect that it was hot and strong; but in the third point + of analogy, requiring plenty of it, the Snuggery was defective; being but + a cooped-up apartment. + </p> + <p> + The unaccustomed visitor from outside, naturally assumed everybody here to + be prisoners—landlord, waiter, barmaid, potboy, and all. Whether + they were or not, did not appear; but they all had a weedy look. The + keeper of a chandler’s shop in a front parlour, who took in gentlemen + boarders, lent his assistance in making the bed. He had been a tailor in + his time, and had kept a phaeton, he said. He boasted that he stood up + litigiously for the interests of the college; and he had undefined and + undefinable ideas that the marshal intercepted a ‘Fund,’ which ought to + come to the collegians. He liked to believe this, and always impressed the + shadowy grievance on new-comers and strangers; though he could not, for + his life, have explained what Fund he meant, or how the notion had got + rooted in his soul. He had fully convinced himself, notwithstanding, that + his own proper share of the Fund was three and ninepence a week; and that + in this amount he, as an individual collegian, was swindled by the + marshal, regularly every Monday. Apparently, he helped to make the bed, + that he might not lose an opportunity of stating this case; after which + unloading of his mind, and after announcing (as it seemed he always did, + without anything coming of it) that he was going to write a letter to the + papers and show the marshal up, he fell into miscellaneous conversation + with the rest. It was evident from the general tone of the whole party, + that they had come to regard insolvency as the normal state of mankind, + and the payment of debts as a disease that occasionally broke out. + </p> + <p> + In this strange scene, and with these strange spectres flitting about him, + Arthur Clennam looked on at the preparations as if they were part of a + dream. Pending which, the long-initiated Tip, with an awful enjoyment of + the Snuggery’s resources, pointed out the common kitchen fire maintained + by subscription of collegians, the boiler for hot water supported in like + manner, and other premises generally tending to the deduction that the way + to be healthy, wealthy, and wise, was to come to the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + The two tables put together in a corner, were, at length, converted into a + very fair bed; and the stranger was left to the Windsor chairs, the + presidential tribune, the beery atmosphere, sawdust, pipe-lights, + spittoons and repose. But the last item was long, long, long, in linking + itself to the rest. The novelty of the place, the coming upon it without + preparation, the sense of being locked up, the remembrance of that room + up-stairs, of the two brothers, and above all of the retiring childish + form, and the face in which he now saw years of insufficient food, if not + of want, kept him waking and unhappy. + </p> + <p> + Speculations, too, bearing the strangest relations towards the prison, but + always concerning the prison, ran like nightmares through his mind while + he lay awake. Whether coffins were kept ready for people who might die + there, where they were kept, how they were kept, where people who died in + the prison were buried, how they were taken out, what forms were observed, + whether an implacable creditor could arrest the dead? As to escaping, what + chances there were of escape? Whether a prisoner could scale the walls + with a cord and grapple, how he would descend upon the other side? whether + he could alight on a housetop, steal down a staircase, let himself out at + a door, and get lost in the crowd? As to Fire in the prison, if one were + to break out while he lay there? + </p> + <p> + And these involuntary starts of fancy were, after all, but the setting of + a picture in which three people kept before him. His father, with the + steadfast look with which he had died, prophetically darkened forth in the + portrait; his mother, with her arm up, warding off his suspicion; Little + Dorrit, with her hand on the degraded arm, and her drooping head turned + away. + </p> + <p> + What if his mother had an old reason she well knew for softening to this + poor girl! What if the prisoner now sleeping quietly—Heaven grant + it!—by the light of the great Day of judgment should trace back his + fall to her. What if any act of hers and of his father’s, should have even + remotely brought the grey heads of those two brothers so low! + </p> + <p> + A swift thought shot into his mind. In that long imprisonment here, and in + her own long confinement to her room, did his mother find a balance to be + struck? ‘I admit that I was accessory to that man’s captivity. I have + suffered for it in kind. He has decayed in his prison: I in mine. I have + paid the penalty.’ + </p> + <p> + When all the other thoughts had faded out, this one held possession of + him. When he fell asleep, she came before him in her wheeled chair, + warding him off with this justification. When he awoke, and sprang up + causelessly frightened, the words were in his ears, as if her voice had + slowly spoken them at his pillow, to break his rest: ‘He withers away in + his prison; I wither away in mine; inexorable justice is done; what do I + owe on this score!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 9. Little Mother + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he morning light was in no hurry to climb the prison wall and look in at + the Snuggery windows; and when it did come, it would have been more + welcome if it had come alone, instead of bringing a rush of rain with it. + But the equinoctial gales were blowing out at sea, and the impartial + south-west wind, in its flight, would not neglect even the narrow + Marshalsea. While it roared through the steeple of St George’s Church, and + twirled all the cowls in the neighbourhood, it made a swoop to beat the + Southwark smoke into the jail; and, plunging down the chimneys of the few + early collegians who were yet lighting their fires, half suffocated them. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam would have been little disposed to linger in bed, though + his bed had been in a more private situation, and less affected by the + raking out of yesterday’s fire, the kindling of to-day’s under the + collegiate boiler, the filling of that Spartan vessel at the pump, the + sweeping and sawdusting of the common room, and other such preparations. + Heartily glad to see the morning, though little rested by the night, he + turned out as soon as he could distinguish objects about him, and paced + the yard for two heavy hours before the gate was opened. + </p> + <p> + The walls were so near to one another, and the wild clouds hurried over + them so fast, that it gave him a sensation like the beginning of + sea-sickness to look up at the gusty sky. The rain, carried aslant by + flaws of wind, blackened that side of the central building which he had + visited last night, but left a narrow dry trough under the lee of the + wall, where he walked up and down among the waits of straw and dust and + paper, the waste droppings of the pump, and the stray leaves of + yesterday’s greens. It was as haggard a view of life as a man need look + upon. + </p> + <p> + Nor was it relieved by any glimpse of the little creature who had brought + him there. Perhaps she glided out of her doorway and in at that where her + father lived, while his face was turned from both; but he saw nothing of + her. It was too early for her brother; to have seen him once, was to have + seen enough of him to know that he would be sluggish to leave whatever + frowsy bed he occupied at night; so, as Arthur Clennam walked up and down, + waiting for the gate to open, he cast about in his mind for future rather + than for present means of pursuing his discoveries. + </p> + <p> + At last the lodge-gate turned, and the turnkey, standing on the step, + taking an early comb at his hair, was ready to let him out. With a joyful + sense of release he passed through the lodge, and found himself again in + the little outer court-yard where he had spoken to the brother last night. + </p> + <p> + There was a string of people already straggling in, whom it was not + difficult to identify as the nondescript messengers, go-betweens, and + errand-bearers of the place. Some of them had been lounging in the rain + until the gate should open; others, who had timed their arrival with + greater nicety, were coming up now, and passing in with damp whitey-brown + paper bags from the grocers, loaves of bread, lumps of butter, eggs, milk, + and the like. The shabbiness of these attendants upon shabbiness, the + poverty of these insolvent waiters upon insolvency, was a sight to see. + Such threadbare coats and trousers, such fusty gowns and shawls, such + squashed hats and bonnets, such boots and shoes, such umbrellas and + walking-sticks, never were seen in Rag Fair. All of them wore the cast-off + clothes of other men and women, were made up of patches and pieces of + other people’s individuality, and had no sartorial existence of their own + proper. Their walk was the walk of a race apart. They had a peculiar way + of doggedly slinking round the corner, as if they were eternally going to + the pawnbroker’s. When they coughed, they coughed like people accustomed + to be forgotten on doorsteps and in draughty passages, waiting for answers + to letters in faded ink, which gave the recipients of those manuscripts + great mental disturbance and no satisfaction. As they eyed the stranger in + passing, they eyed him with borrowing eyes—hungry, sharp, + speculative as to his softness if they were accredited to him, and the + likelihood of his standing something handsome. Mendicity on commission + stooped in their high shoulders, shambled in their unsteady legs, buttoned + and pinned and darned and dragged their clothes, frayed their + button-holes, leaked out of their figures in dirty little ends of tape, + and issued from their mouths in alcoholic breathings. + </p> + <p> + As these people passed him standing still in the court-yard, and one of + them turned back to inquire if he could assist him with his services, it + came into Arthur Clennam’s mind that he would speak to Little Dorrit again + before he went away. She would have recovered her first surprise, and + might feel easier with him. He asked this member of the fraternity (who + had two red herrings in his hand, and a loaf and a blacking brush under + his arm), where was the nearest place to get a cup of coffee at. The + nondescript replied in encouraging terms, and brought him to a coffee-shop + in the street within a stone’s throw. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know Miss Dorrit?’ asked the new client. + </p> + <p> + The nondescript knew two Miss Dorrits; one who was born inside—That + was the one! That was the one? The nondescript had known her many years. + In regard of the other Miss Dorrit, the nondescript lodged in the same + house with herself and uncle. + </p> + <p> + This changed the client’s half-formed design of remaining at the + coffee-shop until the nondescript should bring him word that Dorrit had + issued forth into the street. He entrusted the nondescript with a + confidential message to her, importing that the visitor who had waited on + her father last night, begged the favour of a few words with her at her + uncle’s lodging; he obtained from the same source full directions to the + house, which was very near; dismissed the nondescript gratified with + half-a-crown; and having hastily refreshed himself at the coffee-shop, + repaired with all speed to the clarionet-player’s dwelling. + </p> + <p> + There were so many lodgers in this house that the doorpost seemed to be as + full of bell-handles as a cathedral organ is of stops. Doubtful which + might be the clarionet-stop, he was considering the point, when a + shuttlecock flew out of the parlour window, and alighted on his hat. He + then observed that in the parlour window was a blind with the inscription, + MR CRIPPLES’s ACADEMY; also in another line, EVENING TUITION; and behind + the blind was a little white-faced boy, with a slice of bread-and-butter + and a battledore. The window being accessible from the footway, he looked + in over the blind, returned the shuttlecock, and put his question. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dorrit?’ said the little white-faced boy (Master Cripples in fact). ‘<i>Mr</i> + Dorrit? Third bell and one knock.’ + </p> + <p> + The pupils of Mr Cripples appeared to have been making a copy-book of the + street-door, it was so extensively scribbled over in pencil. The frequency + of the inscriptions, ‘Old Dorrit,’ and ‘Dirty Dick,’ in combination, + suggested intentions of personality on the part Of Mr Cripples’s pupils. + There was ample time to make these observations before the door was opened + by the poor old man himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ha!’ said he, very slowly remembering Arthur, ‘you were shut in last + night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Mr Dorrit. I hope to meet your niece here presently.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said he, pondering. ‘Out of my brother’s way? True. Would you come + up-stairs and wait for her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + Turning himself as slowly as he turned in his mind whatever he heard or + said, he led the way up the narrow stairs. The house was very close, and + had an unwholesome smell. The little staircase windows looked in at the + back windows of other houses as unwholesome as itself, with poles and + lines thrust out of them, on which unsightly linen hung; as if the + inhabitants were angling for clothes, and had had some wretched bites not + worth attending to. In the back garret—a sickly room, with a turn-up + bedstead in it, so hastily and recently turned up that the blankets were + boiling over, as it were, and keeping the lid open—a half-finished + breakfast of coffee and toast for two persons was jumbled down anyhow on a + rickety table. + </p> + <p> + There was no one there. The old man mumbling to himself, after some + consideration, that Fanny had run away, went to the next room to fetch her + back. The visitor, observing that she held the door on the inside, and + that, when the uncle tried to open it, there was a sharp adjuration of + ‘Don’t, stupid!’ and an appearance of loose stocking and flannel, + concluded that the young lady was in an undress. The uncle, without + appearing to come to any conclusion, shuffled in again, sat down in his + chair, and began warming his hands at the fire; not that it was cold, or + that he had any waking idea whether it was or not. + </p> + <p> + ‘What did you think of my brother, sir?’ he asked, when he by-and-by + discovered what he was doing, left off, reached over to the chimney-piece, + and took his clarionet case down. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was glad,’ said Arthur, very much at a loss, for his thoughts were on + the brother before him; ‘to find him so well and cheerful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ha!’ muttered the old man, ‘yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur wondered what he could possibly want with the clarionet case. He + did not want it at all. He discovered, in due time, that it was not the + little paper of snuff (which was also on the chimney-piece), put it back + again, took down the snuff instead, and solaced himself with a pinch. He + was as feeble, spare, and slow in his pinches as in everything else, but a + certain little trickling of enjoyment of them played in the poor worn + nerves about the corners of his eyes and mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, Mr Clennam. What do you think of her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am much impressed, Mr Dorrit, by all that I have seen of her and + thought of her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My brother would have been quite lost without Amy,’ he returned. ‘We + should all have been lost without Amy. She is a very good girl, Amy. She + does her duty.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur fancied that he heard in these praises a certain tone of custom, + which he had heard from the father last night with an inward protest and + feeling of antagonism. It was not that they stinted her praises, or were + insensible to what she did for them; but that they were lazily habituated + to her, as they were to all the rest of their condition. He fancied that + although they had before them, every day, the means of comparison between + her and one another and themselves, they regarded her as being in her + necessary place; as holding a position towards them all which belonged to + her, like her name or her age. He fancied that they viewed her, not as + having risen away from the prison atmosphere, but as appertaining to it; + as being vaguely what they had a right to expect, and nothing more. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle resumed his breakfast, and was munching toast sopped in coffee, + oblivious of his guest, when the third bell rang. That was Amy, he said, + and went down to let her in; leaving the visitor with as vivid a picture + on his mind of his begrimed hands, dirt-worn face, and decayed figure, as + if he were still drooping in his chair. + </p> + <p> + She came up after him, in the usual plain dress, and with the usual timid + manner. Her lips were a little parted, as if her heart beat faster than + usual. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, Amy,’ said her uncle, ‘has been expecting you some time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I took the liberty of sending you a message.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I received the message, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you going to my mother’s this morning? I think not, for it is past + your usual hour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not to-day, sir. I am not wanted to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you allow Me to walk a little way in whatever direction you may be + going? I can then speak to you as we walk, both without detaining you + here, and without intruding longer here myself.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked embarrassed, but said, if he pleased. He made a pretence of + having mislaid his walking-stick, to give her time to set the bedstead + right, to answer her sister’s impatient knock at the wall, and to say a + word softly to her uncle. Then he found it, and they went down-stairs; she + first, he following; the uncle standing at the stair-head, and probably + forgetting them before they had reached the ground floor. + </p> + <p> + Mr Cripples’s pupils, who were by this time coming to school, desisted + from their morning recreation of cuffing one another with bags and books, + to stare with all the eyes they had at a stranger who had been to see + Dirty Dick. They bore the trying spectacle in silence, until the + mysterious visitor was at a safe distance; when they burst into pebbles + and yells, and likewise into reviling dances, and in all respects buried + the pipe of peace with so many savage ceremonies, that, if Mr Cripples had + been the chief of the Cripplewayboo tribe with his war-paint on, they + could scarcely have done greater justice to their education. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of this homage, Mr Arthur Clennam offered his arm to Little + Dorrit, and Little Dorrit took it. ‘Will you go by the Iron Bridge,’ said + he, ‘where there is an escape from the noise of the street?’ Little Dorrit + answered, if he pleased, and presently ventured to hope that he would ‘not + mind’ Mr Cripples’s boys, for she had herself received her education, such + as it was, in Mr Cripples’s evening academy. He returned, with the best + will in the world, that Mr Cripples’s boys were forgiven out of the bottom + of his soul. Thus did Cripples unconsciously become a master of the + ceremonies between them, and bring them more naturally together than Beau + Nash might have done if they had lived in his golden days, and he had + alighted from his coach and six for the purpose. + </p> + <p> + The morning remained squally, and the streets were miserably muddy, but no + rain fell as they walked towards the Iron Bridge. The little creature + seemed so young in his eyes, that there were moments when he found himself + thinking of her, if not speaking to her, as if she were a child. Perhaps + he seemed as old in her eyes as she seemed young in his. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry to hear you were so inconvenienced last night, sir, as to be + locked in. It was very unfortunate.’ + </p> + <p> + It was nothing, he returned. He had had a very good bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes!’ she said quickly; ‘she believed there were excellent beds at the + coffee-house.’ He noticed that the coffee-house was quite a majestic hotel + to her, and that she treasured its reputation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe it is very expensive,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘but my father has + told me that quite beautiful dinners may be got there. And wine,’ she + added timidly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Were you ever there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no! Only into the kitchen to fetch hot water.’ + </p> + <p> + To think of growing up with a kind of awe upon one as to the luxuries of + that superb establishment, the Marshalsea Hotel! + </p> + <p> + ‘I asked you last night,’ said Clennam, ‘how you had become acquainted + with my mother. Did you ever hear her name before she sent for you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think your father ever did?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + He met her eyes raised to his with so much wonder in them (she was scared + when the encounter took place, and shrunk away again), that he felt it + necessary to say: + </p> + <p> + ‘I have a reason for asking, which I cannot very well explain; but you + must, on no account, suppose it to be of a nature to cause you the least + alarm or anxiety. Quite the reverse. And you think that at no time of your + father’s life was my name of Clennam ever familiar to him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + He felt, from the tone in which she spoke, that she was glancing up at him + with those parted lips; therefore he looked before him, rather than make + her heart beat quicker still by embarrassing her afresh. + </p> + <p> + Thus they emerged upon the Iron Bridge, which was as quiet after the + roaring streets as though it had been open country. The wind blew roughly, + the wet squalls came rattling past them, skimming the pools on the road + and pavement, and raining them down into the river. The clouds raced on + furiously in the lead-coloured sky, the smoke and mist raced after them, + the dark tide ran fierce and strong in the same direction. Little Dorrit + seemed the least, the quietest, and weakest of Heaven’s creatures. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me put you in a coach,’ said Clennam, very nearly adding ‘my poor + child.’ + </p> + <p> + She hurriedly declined, saying that wet or dry made little difference to + her; she was used to go about in all weathers. He knew it to be so, and + was touched with more pity; thinking of the slight figure at his side, + making its nightly way through the damp dark boisterous streets to such a + place of rest. + </p> + <p> + ‘You spoke so feelingly to me last night, sir, and I found afterwards that + you had been so generous to my father, that I could not resist your + message, if it was only to thank you; especially as I wished very much to + say to you—’ she hesitated and trembled, and tears rose in her eyes, + but did not fall. + </p> + <p> + ‘To say to me—?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That I hope you will not misunderstand my father. Don’t judge him, sir, + as you would judge others outside the gates. He has been there so long! I + never saw him outside, but I can understand that he must have grown + different in some things since.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My thoughts will never be unjust or harsh towards him, believe me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not,’ she said, with a prouder air, as the misgiving evidently crept upon + her that she might seem to be abandoning him, ‘not that he has anything to + be ashamed of for himself, or that I have anything to be ashamed of for + him. He only requires to be understood. I only ask for him that his life + may be fairly remembered. All that he said was quite true. It all happened + just as he related it. He is very much respected. Everybody who comes in, + is glad to know him. He is more courted than anyone else. He is far more + thought of than the Marshal is.’ + </p> + <p> + If ever pride were innocent, it was innocent in Little Dorrit when she + grew boastful of her father. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is often said that his manners are a true gentleman’s, and quite a + study. I see none like them in that place, but he is admitted to be + superior to all the rest. This is quite as much why they make him + presents, as because they know him to be needy. He is not to be blamed for + being in need, poor love. Who could be in prison a quarter of a century, + and be prosperous!’ + </p> + <p> + What affection in her words, what compassion in her repressed tears, what + a great soul of fidelity within her, how true the light that shed false + brightness round him! + </p> + <p> + ‘If I have found it best to conceal where my home is, it is not because I + am ashamed of him. God forbid! Nor am I so much ashamed of the place + itself as might be supposed. People are not bad because they come there. I + have known numbers of good, persevering, honest people come there through + misfortune. They are almost all kind-hearted to one another. And it would + be ungrateful indeed in me, to forget that I have had many quiet, + comfortable hours there; that I had an excellent friend there when I was + quite a baby, who was very very fond of me; that I have been taught there, + and have worked there, and have slept soundly there. I think it would be + almost cowardly and cruel not to have some little attachment for it, after + all this.’ + </p> + <p> + She had relieved the faithful fulness of her heart, and modestly said, + raising her eyes appealingly to her new friend’s, ‘I did not mean to say + so much, nor have I ever but once spoken about this before. But it seems + to set it more right than it was last night. I said I wished you had not + followed me, sir. I don’t wish it so much now, unless you should think—indeed + I don’t wish it at all, unless I should have spoken so confusedly, that—that + you can scarcely understand me, which I am afraid may be the case.’ + </p> + <p> + He told her with perfect truth that it was not the case; and putting + himself between her and the sharp wind and rain, sheltered her as well as + he could. + </p> + <p> + ‘I feel permitted now,’ he said, ‘to ask you a little more concerning your + father. Has he many creditors?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! a great number.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean detaining creditors, who keep him where he is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes! a great number.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you tell me—I can get the information, no doubt, elsewhere, if + you cannot—who is the most influential of them?’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit said, after considering a little, that she used to hear long + ago of Mr Tite Barnacle as a man of great power. He was a commissioner, or + a board, or a trustee, ‘or something.’ He lived in Grosvenor Square, she + thought, or very near it. He was under Government—high in the + Circumlocution Office. She appeared to have acquired, in her infancy, some + awful impression of the might of this formidable Mr Tite Barnacle of + Grosvenor Square, or very near it, and the Circumlocution Office, which + quite crushed her when she mentioned him. + </p> + <p> + ‘It can do no harm,’ thought Arthur, ‘if I see this Mr Tite Barnacle.’ + </p> + <p> + The thought did not present itself so quietly but that her quickness + intercepted it. ‘Ah!’ said Little Dorrit, shaking her head with the mild + despair of a lifetime. ‘Many people used to think once of getting my poor + father out, but you don’t know how hopeless it is.’ + </p> + <p> + She forgot to be shy at the moment, in honestly warning him away from the + sunken wreck he had a dream of raising; and looked at him with eyes which + assuredly, in association with her patient face, her fragile figure, her + spare dress, and the wind and rain, did not turn him from his purpose of + helping her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even if it could be done,’ said she—‘and it never can be done now—where + could father live, or how could he live? I have often thought that if such + a change could come, it might be anything but a service to him now. People + might not think so well of him outside as they do there. He might not be + so gently dealt with outside as he is there. He might not be so fit + himself for the life outside as he is for that.’ + </p> + <p> + Here for the first time she could not restrain her tears from falling; and + the little thin hands he had watched when they were so busy, trembled as + they clasped each other. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be a new distress to him even to know that I earn a little + money, and that Fanny earns a little money. He is so anxious about us, you + see, feeling helplessly shut up there. Such a good, good father!’ + </p> + <p> + He let the little burst of feeling go by before he spoke. It was soon + gone. She was not accustomed to think of herself, or to trouble any one + with her emotions. He had but glanced away at the piles of city roofs and + chimneys among which the smoke was rolling heavily, and at the wilderness + of masts on the river, and the wilderness of steeples on the shore, + indistinctly mixed together in the stormy haze, when she was again as + quiet as if she had been plying her needle in his mother’s room. + </p> + <p> + ‘You would be glad to have your brother set at liberty?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh very, very glad, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, we will hope for him at least. You told me last night of a friend + you had?’ + </p> + <p> + His name was Plornish, Little Dorrit said. + </p> + <p> + And where did Plornish live? Plornish lived in Bleeding Heart Yard. He was + ‘only a plasterer,’ Little Dorrit said, as a caution to him not to form + high social expectations of Plornish. He lived at the last house in + Bleeding Heart Yard, and his name was over a little gateway. + </p> + <p> + Arthur took down the address and gave her his. He had now done all he + sought to do for the present, except that he wished to leave her with a + reliance upon him, and to have something like a promise from her that she + would cherish it. + </p> + <p> + ‘There is one friend!’ he said, putting up his pocketbook. ‘As I take you + back—you are going back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes! going straight home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘—As I take you back,’ the word home jarred upon him, ‘let me ask + you to persuade yourself that you have another friend. I make no + professions, and say no more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are truly kind to me, sir. I am sure I need no more.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked back through the miserable muddy streets, and among the poor, + mean shops, and were jostled by the crowds of dirty hucksters usual to a + poor neighbourhood. There was nothing, by the short way, that was pleasant + to any of the five senses. Yet it was not a common passage through common + rain, and mire, and noise, to Clennam, having this little, slender, + careful creature on his arm. How young she seemed to him, or how old he to + her; or what a secret either to the other, in that beginning of the + destined interweaving of their stories, matters not here. He thought of + her having been born and bred among these scenes, and shrinking through + them now, familiar yet misplaced; he thought of her long acquaintance with + the squalid needs of life, and of her innocence; of her solicitude for + others, and her few years, and her childish aspect. + </p> + <p> + They were come into the High Street, where the prison stood, when a voice + cried, ‘Little mother, little mother!’ Little Dorrit stopping and looking + back, an excited figure of a strange kind bounced against them (still + crying ‘little mother’), fell down, and scattered the contents of a large + basket, filled with potatoes, in the mud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Maggy,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘what a clumsy child you are!’ + </p> + <p> + Maggy was not hurt, but picked herself up immediately, and then began to + pick up the potatoes, in which both Little Dorrit and Arthur Clennam + helped. Maggy picked up very few potatoes and a great quantity of mud; but + they were all recovered, and deposited in the basket. Maggy then smeared + her muddy face with her shawl, and presenting it to Mr Clennam as a type + of purity, enabled him to see what she was like. + </p> + <p> + She was about eight-and-twenty, with large bones, large features, large + feet and hands, large eyes and no hair. Her large eyes were limpid and + almost colourless; they seemed to be very little affected by light, and to + stand unnaturally still. There was also that attentive listening + expression in her face, which is seen in the faces of the blind; but she + was not blind, having one tolerably serviceable eye. Her face was not + exceedingly ugly, though it was only redeemed from being so by a smile; a + good-humoured smile, and pleasant in itself, but rendered pitiable by + being constantly there. A great white cap, with a quantity of opaque + frilling that was always flapping about, apologised for Maggy’s baldness, + and made it so very difficult for her old black bonnet to retain its place + upon her head, that it held on round her neck like a gipsy’s baby. A + commission of haberdashers could alone have reported what the rest of her + poor dress was made of, but it had a strong general resemblance to + seaweed, with here and there a gigantic tea-leaf. Her shawl looked + particularly like a tea-leaf after long infusion. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam looked at Little Dorrit with the expression of one saying, + ‘May I ask who this is?’ Little Dorrit, whose hand this Maggy, still + calling her little mother, had begun to fondle, answered in words (they + were under a gateway into which the majority of the potatoes had rolled). + </p> + <p> + ‘This is Maggy, sir.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0106m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0106m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0106.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Maggy, sir,’ echoed the personage presented. ‘Little mother!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is the grand-daughter—’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Grand-daughter,’ echoed Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of my old nurse, who has been dead a long time. Maggy, how old are you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ten, mother,’ said Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t think how good she is, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, with infinite + tenderness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good <i>she</i> is,’ echoed Maggy, transferring the pronoun in a most + expressive way from herself to her little mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or how clever,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘She goes on errands as well as any + one.’ Maggy laughed. ‘And is as trustworthy as the Bank of England.’ Maggy + laughed. ‘She earns her own living entirely. Entirely, sir!’ said Little + Dorrit, in a lower and triumphant tone. ‘Really does!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is her history?’ asked Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Think of that, Maggy?’ said Little Dorrit, taking her two large hands and + clapping them together. ‘A gentleman from thousands of miles away, wanting + to know your history!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>My</i> history?’ cried Maggy. ‘Little mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She means me,’ said Little Dorrit, rather confused; ‘she is very much + attached to me. Her old grandmother was not so kind to her as she should + have been; was she, Maggy?’ + </p> + <p> + Maggy shook her head, made a drinking vessel of her clenched left hand, + drank out of it, and said, ‘Gin.’ Then beat an imaginary child, and said, + ‘Broom-handles and pokers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When Maggy was ten years old,’ said Little Dorrit, watching her face + while she spoke, ‘she had a bad fever, sir, and she has never grown any + older ever since.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ten years old,’ said Maggy, nodding her head. ‘But what a nice hospital! + So comfortable, wasn’t it? Oh so nice it was. Such a Ev’nly place!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She had never been at peace before, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, turning + towards Arthur for an instant and speaking low, ‘and she always runs off + upon that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Such beds there is there!’ cried Maggy. ‘Such lemonades! Such oranges! + Such d’licious broth and wine! Such Chicking! Oh, AIN’T it a delightful + place to go and stop at!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So Maggy stopped there as long as she could,’ said Little Dorrit, in her + former tone of telling a child’s story; the tone designed for Maggy’s ear, + ‘and at last, when she could stop there no longer, she came out. Then, + because she was never to be more than ten years old, however long she + lived—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘However long she lived,’ echoed Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘—And because she was very weak; indeed was so weak that when she + began to laugh she couldn’t stop herself—which was a great pity—’ + </p> + <p> + (Maggy mighty grave of a sudden.) + </p> + <p> + ‘—Her grandmother did not know what to do with her, and for some + years was very unkind to her indeed. At length, in course of time, Maggy + began to take pains to improve herself, and to be very attentive and very + industrious; and by degrees was allowed to come in and out as often as she + liked, and got enough to do to support herself, and does support herself. + And that,’ said Little Dorrit, clapping the two great hands together + again, ‘is Maggy’s history, as Maggy knows!’ + </p> + <p> + Ah! But Arthur would have known what was wanting to its completeness, + though he had never heard of the words Little mother; though he had never + seen the fondling of the small spare hand; though he had had no sight for + the tears now standing in the colourless eyes; though he had had no + hearing for the sob that checked the clumsy laugh. The dirty gateway with + the wind and rain whistling through it, and the basket of muddy potatoes + waiting to be spilt again or taken up, never seemed the common hole it + really was, when he looked back to it by these lights. Never, never! + </p> + <p> + They were very near the end of their walk, and they now came out of the + gateway to finish it. Nothing would serve Maggy but that they must stop at + a grocer’s window, short of their destination, for her to show her + learning. She could read after a sort; and picked out the fat figures in + the tickets of prices, for the most part correctly. She also stumbled, + with a large balance of success against her failures, through various + philanthropic recommendations to Try our Mixture, Try our Family Black, + Try our Orange-flavoured Pekoe, challenging competition at the head of + Flowery Teas; and various cautions to the public against spurious + establishments and adulterated articles. When he saw how pleasure brought + a rosy tint into Little Dorrit’s face when Maggy made a hit, he felt that + he could have stood there making a library of the grocer’s window until + the rain and wind were tired. + </p> + <p> + The court-yard received them at last, and there he said goodbye to Little + Dorrit. Little as she had always looked, she looked less than ever when he + saw her going into the Marshalsea lodge passage, the little mother + attended by her big child. + </p> + <p> + The cage door opened, and when the small bird, reared in captivity, had + tamely fluttered in, he saw it shut again; and then he came away. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 10. Containing the whole Science of Government + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Circumlocution Office was (as everybody knows without being told) the + most important Department under Government. No public business of any kind + could possibly be done at any time without the acquiescence of the + Circumlocution Office. Its finger was in the largest public pie, and in + the smallest public tart. It was equally impossible to do the plainest + right and to undo the plainest wrong without the express authority of the + Circumlocution Office. If another Gunpowder Plot had been discovered half + an hour before the lighting of the match, nobody would have been justified + in saving the parliament until there had been half a score of boards, half + a bushel of minutes, several sacks of official memoranda, and a + family-vault full of ungrammatical correspondence, on the part of the + Circumlocution Office. + </p> + <p> + This glorious establishment had been early in the field, when the one + sublime principle involving the difficult art of governing a country, was + first distinctly revealed to statesmen. It had been foremost to study that + bright revelation and to carry its shining influence through the whole of + the official proceedings. Whatever was required to be done, the + Circumlocution Office was beforehand with all the public departments in + the art of perceiving—HOW NOT TO DO IT. + </p> + <p> + Through this delicate perception, through the tact with which it + invariably seized it, and through the genius with which it always acted on + it, the Circumlocution Office had risen to overtop all the public + departments; and the public condition had risen to be—what it was. + </p> + <p> + It is true that How not to do it was the great study and object of all + public departments and professional politicians all round the + Circumlocution Office. It is true that every new premier and every new + government, coming in because they had upheld a certain thing as necessary + to be done, were no sooner come in than they applied their utmost + faculties to discovering How not to do it. It is true that from the moment + when a general election was over, every returned man who had been raving + on hustings because it hadn’t been done, and who had been asking the + friends of the honourable gentleman in the opposite interest on pain of + impeachment to tell him why it hadn’t been done, and who had been + asserting that it must be done, and who had been pledging himself that it + should be done, began to devise, How it was not to be done. It is true + that the debates of both Houses of Parliament the whole session through, + uniformly tended to the protracted deliberation, How not to do it. It is + true that the royal speech at the opening of such session virtually said, + My lords and gentlemen, you have a considerable stroke of work to do, and + you will please to retire to your respective chambers, and discuss, How + not to do it. It is true that the royal speech, at the close of such + session, virtually said, My lords and gentlemen, you have through several + laborious months been considering with great loyalty and patriotism, How + not to do it, and you have found out; and with the blessing of Providence + upon the harvest (natural, not political), I now dismiss you. All this is + true, but the Circumlocution Office went beyond it. + </p> + <p> + Because the Circumlocution Office went on mechanically, every day, keeping + this wonderful, all-sufficient wheel of statesmanship, How not to do it, + in motion. Because the Circumlocution Office was down upon any ill-advised + public servant who was going to do it, or who appeared to be by any + surprising accident in remote danger of doing it, with a minute, and a + memorandum, and a letter of instructions that extinguished him. It was + this spirit of national efficiency in the Circumlocution Office that had + gradually led to its having something to do with everything. Mechanicians, + natural philosophers, soldiers, sailors, petitioners, memorialists, people + with grievances, people who wanted to prevent grievances, people who + wanted to redress grievances, jobbing people, jobbed people, people who + couldn’t get rewarded for merit, and people who couldn’t get punished for + demerit, were all indiscriminately tucked up under the foolscap paper of + the Circumlocution Office. + </p> + <p> + Numbers of people were lost in the Circumlocution Office. Unfortunates + with wrongs, or with projects for the general welfare (and they had better + have had wrongs at first, than have taken that bitter English recipe for + certainly getting them), who in slow lapse of time and agony had passed + safely through other public departments; who, according to rule, had been + bullied in this, over-reached by that, and evaded by the other; got + referred at last to the Circumlocution Office, and never reappeared in the + light of day. Boards sat upon them, secretaries minuted upon them, + commissioners gabbled about them, clerks registered, entered, checked, and + ticked them off, and they melted away. In short, all the business of the + country went through the Circumlocution Office, except the business that + never came out of it; and <i>its</i> name was Legion. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, angry spirits attacked the Circumlocution Office. Sometimes, + parliamentary questions were asked about it, and even parliamentary + motions made or threatened about it by demagogues so low and ignorant as + to hold that the real recipe of government was, How to do it. Then would + the noble lord, or right honourable gentleman, in whose department it was + to defend the Circumlocution Office, put an orange in his pocket, and make + a regular field-day of the occasion. Then would he come down to that house + with a slap upon the table, and meet the honourable gentleman foot to + foot. Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentleman that the + Circumlocution Office not only was blameless in this matter, but was + commendable in this matter, was extollable to the skies in this matter. + Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentleman that, although + the Circumlocution Office was invariably right and wholly right, it never + was so right as in this matter. Then would he be there to tell that + honourable gentleman that it would have been more to his honour, more to + his credit, more to his good taste, more to his good sense, more to half + the dictionary of commonplaces, if he had left the Circumlocution Office + alone, and never approached this matter. Then would he keep one eye upon a + coach or crammer from the Circumlocution Office sitting below the bar, and + smash the honourable gentleman with the Circumlocution Office account of + this matter. And although one of two things always happened; namely, + either that the Circumlocution Office had nothing to say and said it, or + that it had something to say of which the noble lord, or right honourable + gentleman, blundered one half and forgot the other; the Circumlocution + Office was always voted immaculate by an accommodating majority. + </p> + <p> + Such a nursery of statesmen had the Department become in virtue of a long + career of this nature, that several solemn lords had attained the + reputation of being quite unearthly prodigies of business, solely from + having practised, How not to do it, as the head of the Circumlocution + Office. As to the minor priests and acolytes of that temple, the result of + all this was that they stood divided into two classes, and, down to the + junior messenger, either believed in the Circumlocution Office as a + heaven-born institution that had an absolute right to do whatever it + liked; or took refuge in total infidelity, and considered it a flagrant + nuisance. + </p> + <p> + The Barnacle family had for some time helped to administer the + Circumlocution Office. The Tite Barnacle Branch, indeed, considered + themselves in a general way as having vested rights in that direction, and + took it ill if any other family had much to say to it. The Barnacles were + a very high family, and a very large family. They were dispersed all over + the public offices, and held all sorts of public places. Either the nation + was under a load of obligation to the Barnacles, or the Barnacles were + under a load of obligation to the nation. It was not quite unanimously + settled which; the Barnacles having their opinion, the nation theirs. + </p> + <p> + The Mr Tite Barnacle who at the period now in question usually coached or + crammed the statesman at the head of the Circumlocution Office, when that + noble or right honourable individual sat a little uneasily in his saddle + by reason of some vagabond making a tilt at him in a newspaper, was more + flush of blood than money. As a Barnacle he had his place, which was a + snug thing enough; and as a Barnacle he had of course put in his son + Barnacle Junior in the office. But he had intermarried with a branch of + the Stiltstalkings, who were also better endowed in a sanguineous point of + view than with real or personal property, and of this marriage there had + been issue, Barnacle junior and three young ladies. What with the + patrician requirements of Barnacle junior, the three young ladies, Mrs + Tite Barnacle nee Stiltstalking, and himself, Mr Tite Barnacle found the + intervals between quarter day and quarter day rather longer than he could + have desired; a circumstance which he always attributed to the country’s + parsimony. + </p> + <p> + For Mr Tite Barnacle, Mr Arthur Clennam made his fifth inquiry one day at + the Circumlocution Office; having on previous occasions awaited that + gentleman successively in a hall, a glass case, a waiting room, and a + fire-proof passage where the Department seemed to keep its wind. On this + occasion Mr Barnacle was not engaged, as he had been before, with the + noble prodigy at the head of the Department; but was absent. Barnacle + Junior, however, was announced as a lesser star, yet visible above the + office horizon. + </p> + <p> + With Barnacle junior, he signified his desire to confer; and found that + young gentleman singeing the calves of his legs at the parental fire, and + supporting his spine against the mantel-shelf. It was a comfortable room, + handsomely furnished in the higher official manner; and presenting stately + suggestions of the absent Barnacle, in the thick carpet, the + leather-covered desk to sit at, the leather-covered desk to stand at, the + formidable easy-chair and hearth-rug, the interposed screen, the torn-up + papers, the dispatch-boxes with little labels sticking out of them, like + medicine bottles or dead game, the pervading smell of leather and + mahogany, and a general bamboozling air of How not to do it. + </p> + <p> + The present Barnacle, holding Mr Clennam’s card in his hand, had a + youthful aspect, and the fluffiest little whisker, perhaps, that ever was + seen. Such a downy tip was on his callow chin, that he seemed half fledged + like a young bird; and a compassionate observer might have urged that, if + he had not singed the calves of his legs, he would have died of cold. He + had a superior eye-glass dangling round his neck, but unfortunately had + such flat orbits to his eyes and such limp little eyelids that it wouldn’t + stick in when he put it up, but kept tumbling out against his waistcoat + buttons with a click that discomposed him very much. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I say. Look here! My father’s not in the way, and won’t be in the way + to-day,’ said Barnacle Junior. ‘Is this anything that I can do?’ + </p> + <p> + (Click! Eye-glass down. Barnacle Junior quite frightened and feeling all + round himself, but not able to find it.) + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very good,’ said Arthur Clennam. ‘I wish however to see Mr + Barnacle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I say. Look here! You haven’t got any appointment, you know,’ said + Barnacle Junior. + </p> + <p> + (By this time he had found the eye-glass, and put it up again.) + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Arthur Clennam. ‘That is what I wish to have.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I say. Look here! Is this public business?’ asked Barnacle junior. + </p> + <p> + (Click! Eye-glass down again. Barnacle Junior in that state of search + after it that Mr Clennam felt it useless to reply at present.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it,’ said Barnacle junior, taking heed of his visitor’s brown face, + ‘anything about—Tonnage—or that sort of thing?’ + </p> + <p> + (Pausing for a reply, he opened his right eye with his hand, and stuck his + glass in it, in that inflammatory manner that his eye began watering + dreadfully.) + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Arthur, ‘it is nothing about tonnage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then look here. Is it private business?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I really am not sure. It relates to a Mr Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here, I tell you what! You had better call at our house, if you are + going that way. Twenty-four, Mews Street, Grosvenor Square. My father’s + got a slight touch of the gout, and is kept at home by it.’ + </p> + <p> + (The misguided young Barnacle evidently going blind on his eye-glass side, + but ashamed to make any further alteration in his painful arrangements.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you. I will call there now. Good morning.’ Young Barnacle seemed + discomfited at this, as not having at all expected him to go. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are quite sure,’ said Barnacle junior, calling after him when he got + to the door, unwilling wholly to relinquish the bright business idea he + had conceived; ‘that it’s nothing about Tonnage?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite sure.’ + </p> + <p> + With such assurance, and rather wondering what might have taken place if + it <i>had</i> been anything about tonnage, Mr Clennam withdrew to pursue + his inquiries. + </p> + <p> + Mews Street, Grosvenor Square, was not absolutely Grosvenor Square itself, + but it was very near it. It was a hideous little street of dead wall, + stables, and dunghills, with lofts over coach-houses inhabited by + coachmen’s families, who had a passion for drying clothes and decorating + their window-sills with miniature turnpike-gates. The principal + chimney-sweep of that fashionable quarter lived at the blind end of Mews + Street; and the same corner contained an establishment much frequented + about early morning and twilight for the purchase of wine-bottles and + kitchen-stuff. Punch’s shows used to lean against the dead wall in Mews + Street, while their proprietors were dining elsewhere; and the dogs of the + neighbourhood made appointments to meet in the same locality. Yet there + were two or three small airless houses at the entrance end of Mews Street, + which went at enormous rents on account of their being abject hangers-on + to a fashionable situation; and whenever one of these fearful little coops + was to be let (which seldom happened, for they were in great request), the + house agent advertised it as a gentlemanly residence in the most + aristocratic part of town, inhabited solely by the elite of the beau + monde. + </p> + <p> + If a gentlemanly residence coming strictly within this narrow margin had + not been essential to the blood of the Barnacles, this particular branch + would have had a pretty wide selection among, let us say, ten thousand + houses, offering fifty times the accommodation for a third of the money. + As it was, Mr Barnacle, finding his gentlemanly residence extremely + inconvenient and extremely dear, always laid it, as a public servant, at + the door of the country, and adduced it as another instance of the + country’s parsimony. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam came to a squeezed house, with a ramshackle bowed front, + little dingy windows, and a little dark area like a damp waistcoat-pocket, + which he found to be number twenty-four, Mews Street, Grosvenor Square. To + the sense of smell the house was like a sort of bottle filled with a + strong distillation of Mews; and when the footman opened the door, he + seemed to take the stopper out. + </p> + <p> + The footman was to the Grosvenor Square footmen, what the house was to the + Grosvenor Square houses. Admirable in his way, his way was a back and a + bye way. His gorgeousness was not unmixed with dirt; and both in + complexion and consistency he had suffered from the closeness of his + pantry. A sallow flabbiness was upon him when he took the stopper out, and + presented the bottle to Mr Clennam’s nose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be so good as to give that card to Mr Tite Barnacle, and to say that I + have just now seen the younger Mr Barnacle, who recommended me to call + here.’ + </p> + <p> + The footman (who had as many large buttons with the Barnacle crest upon + them on the flaps of his pockets, as if he were the family strong box, and + carried the plate and jewels about with him buttoned up) pondered over the + card a little; then said, ‘Walk in.’ It required some judgment to do it + without butting the inner hall-door open, and in the consequent mental + confusion and physical darkness slipping down the kitchen stairs. The + visitor, however, brought himself up safely on the door-mat. + </p> + <p> + Still the footman said ‘Walk in,’ so the visitor followed him. At the + inner hall-door, another bottle seemed to be presented and another stopper + taken out. This second vial appeared to be filled with concentrated + provisions and extract of Sink from the pantry. After a skirmish in the + narrow passage, occasioned by the footman’s opening the door of the dismal + dining-room with confidence, finding some one there with consternation, + and backing on the visitor with disorder, the visitor was shut up, pending + his announcement, in a close back parlour. There he had an opportunity of + refreshing himself with both the bottles at once, looking out at a low + blinding wall three feet off, and speculating on the number of Barnacle + families within the bills of mortality who lived in such hutches of their + own free flunkey choice. + </p> + <p> + Mr Barnacle would see him. Would he walk up-stairs? He would, and he did; + and in the drawing-room, with his leg on a rest, he found Mr Barnacle + himself, the express image and presentment of How not to do it. + </p> + <p> + Mr Barnacle dated from a better time, when the country was not so + parsimonious and the Circumlocution Office was not so badgered. He wound + and wound folds of white cravat round his neck, as he wound and wound + folds of tape and paper round the neck of the country. His wristbands and + collar were oppressive; his voice and manner were oppressive. He had a + large watch-chain and bunch of seals, a coat buttoned up to inconvenience, + a waistcoat buttoned up to inconvenience, an unwrinkled pair of trousers, + a stiff pair of boots. He was altogether splendid, massive, overpowering, + and impracticable. He seemed to have been sitting for his portrait to Sir + Thomas Lawrence all the days of his life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam?’ said Mr Barnacle. ‘Be seated.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Clennam became seated. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have called on me, I believe,’ said Mr Barnacle, ‘at the + Circumlocution—’ giving it the air of a word of about + five-and-twenty syllables—‘Office.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have taken that liberty.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Barnacle solemnly bent his head as who should say, ‘I do not deny that + it is a liberty; proceed to take another liberty, and let me know your + business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Allow me to observe that I have been for some years in China, am quite a + stranger at home, and have no personal motive or interest in the inquiry I + am about to make.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Barnacle tapped his fingers on the table, and, as if he were now + sitting for his portrait to a new and strange artist, appeared to say to + his visitor, ‘If you will be good enough to take me with my present lofty + expression, I shall feel obliged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have found a debtor in the Marshalsea Prison of the name of Dorrit, who + has been there many years. I wish to investigate his confused affairs so + far as to ascertain whether it may not be possible, after this lapse of + time, to ameliorate his unhappy condition. The name of Mr Tite Barnacle + has been mentioned to me as representing some highly influential interest + among his creditors. Am I correctly informed?’ + </p> + <p> + It being one of the principles of the Circumlocution Office never, on any + account whatever, to give a straightforward answer, Mr Barnacle said, + ‘Possibly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On behalf of the Crown, may I ask, or as private individual?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Circumlocution Department, sir,’ Mr Barnacle replied, ‘may have + possibly recommended—possibly—I cannot say—that some + public claim against the insolvent estate of a firm or copartnership to + which this person may have belonged, should be enforced. The question may + have been, in the course of official business, referred to the + Circumlocution Department for its consideration. The Department may have + either originated, or confirmed, a Minute making that recommendation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I assume this to be the case, then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Circumlocution Department,’ said Mr Barnacle, ‘is not responsible for + any gentleman’s assumptions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I inquire how I can obtain official information as to the real state + of the case?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is competent,’ said Mr Barnacle, ‘to any member of the—Public,’ + mentioning that obscure body with reluctance, as his natural enemy, ‘to + memorialise the Circumlocution Department. Such formalities as are + required to be observed in so doing, may be known on application to the + proper branch of that Department.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which is the proper branch?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must refer you,’ returned Mr Barnacle, ringing the bell, ‘to the + Department itself for a formal answer to that inquiry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse my mentioning—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Department is accessible to the—Public,’ Mr Barnacle was always + checked a little by that word of impertinent signification, ‘if the—Public + approaches it according to the official forms; if the—Public does + not approach it according to the official forms, the—Public has + itself to blame.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Barnacle made him a severe bow, as a wounded man of family, a wounded + man of place, and a wounded man of a gentlemanly residence, all rolled + into one; and he made Mr Barnacle a bow, and was shut out into Mews Street + by the flabby footman. + </p> + <p> + Having got to this pass, he resolved as an exercise in perseverance, to + betake himself again to the Circumlocution Office, and try what + satisfaction he could get there. So he went back to the Circumlocution + Office, and once more sent up his card to Barnacle junior by a messenger + who took it very ill indeed that he should come back again, and who was + eating mashed potatoes and gravy behind a partition by the hall fire. + </p> + <p> + He was readmitted to the presence of Barnacle junior, and found that young + gentleman singeing his knees now, and gaping his weary way on to four + o’clock. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say. Look here. You stick to us in a devil of a manner,’ Said Barnacle + junior, looking over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to know—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Look here. Upon my soul you mustn’t come into the place saying you want + to know, you know,’ remonstrated Barnacle junior, turning about and + putting up the eye-glass. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to know,’ said Arthur Clennam, who had made up his mind to + persistence in one short form of words, ‘the precise nature of the claim + of the Crown against a prisoner for debt, named Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I say. Look here. You really are going it at a great pace, you know. + Egad, you haven’t got an appointment,’ said Barnacle junior, as if the + thing were growing serious. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to know,’ said Arthur, and repeated his case. + </p> + <p> + Barnacle junior stared at him until his eye-glass fell out, and then put + it in again and stared at him until it fell out again. ‘You have no right + to come this sort of move,’ he then observed with the greatest weakness. + ‘Look here. What do you mean? You told me you didn’t know whether it was + public business or not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have now ascertained that it is public business,’ returned the suitor, + ‘and I want to know’—and again repeated his monotonous inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Its effect upon young Barnacle was to make him repeat in a defenceless + way, ‘Look here! Upon my SOUL you mustn’t come into the place saying you + want to know, you know!’ The effect of that upon Arthur Clennam was to + make him repeat his inquiry in exactly the same words and tone as before. + The effect of that upon young Barnacle was to make him a wonderful + spectacle of failure and helplessness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, I tell you what. Look here. You had better try the Secretarial + Department,’ he said at last, sidling to the bell and ringing it. + ‘Jenkinson,’ to the mashed potatoes messenger, ‘Mr Wobbler!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam, who now felt that he had devoted himself to the storming + of the Circumlocution Office, and must go through with it, accompanied the + messenger to another floor of the building, where that functionary pointed + out Mr Wobbler’s room. He entered that apartment, and found two gentlemen + sitting face to face at a large and easy desk, one of whom was polishing a + gun-barrel on his pocket-handkerchief, while the other was spreading + marmalade on bread with a paper-knife. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Wobbler?’ inquired the suitor. + </p> + <p> + Both gentlemen glanced at him, and seemed surprised at his assurance. + </p> + <p> + ‘So he went,’ said the gentleman with the gun-barrel, who was an extremely + deliberate speaker, ‘down to his cousin’s place, and took the Dog with him + by rail. Inestimable Dog. Flew at the porter fellow when he was put into + the dog-box, and flew at the guard when he was taken out. He got + half-a-dozen fellows into a Barn, and a good supply of Rats, and timed the + Dog. Finding the Dog able to do it immensely, made the match, and heavily + backed the Dog. When the match came off, some devil of a fellow was bought + over, Sir, Dog was made drunk, Dog’s master was cleaned out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Wobbler?’ inquired the suitor. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman who was spreading the marmalade returned, without looking up + from that occupation, ‘What did he call the Dog?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Called him Lovely,’ said the other gentleman. ‘Said the Dog was the + perfect picture of the old aunt from whom he had expectations. Found him + particularly like her when hocussed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Wobbler?’ said the suitor. + </p> + <p> + Both gentlemen laughed for some time. The gentleman with the gun-barrel, + considering it, on inspection, in a satisfactory state, referred it to the + other; receiving confirmation of his views, he fitted it into its place in + the case before him, and took out the stock and polished that, softly + whistling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Wobbler?’ said the suitor. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter?’ then said Mr Wobbler, with his mouth full. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to know—’ and Arthur Clennam again mechanically set forth + what he wanted to know. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t inform you,’ observed Mr Wobbler, apparently to his lunch. ‘Never + heard of it. Nothing at all to do with it. Better try Mr Clive, second + door on the left in the next passage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps he will give me the same answer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very likely. Don’t know anything about it,’ said Mr Wobbler. + </p> + <p> + The suitor turned away and had left the room, when the gentleman with the + gun called out ‘Mister! Hallo!’ + </p> + <p> + He looked in again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shut the door after you. You’re letting in a devil of a draught here!’ + </p> + <p> + A few steps brought him to the second door on the left in the next + passage. In that room he found three gentlemen; number one doing nothing + particular, number two doing nothing particular, number three doing + nothing particular. They seemed, however, to be more directly concerned + than the others had been in the effective execution of the great principle + of the office, as there was an awful inner apartment with a double door, + in which the Circumlocution Sages appeared to be assembled in council, and + out of which there was an imposing coming of papers, and into which there + was an imposing going of papers, almost constantly; wherein another + gentleman, number four, was the active instrument. + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to know,’ said Arthur Clennam,—and again stated his case in + the same barrel-organ way. As number one referred him to number two, and + as number two referred him to number three, he had occasion to state it + three times before they all referred him to number four, to whom he stated + it again. + </p> + <p> + Number four was a vivacious, well-looking, well-dressed, agreeable young + fellow—he was a Barnacle, but on the more sprightly side of the + family—and he said in an easy way, ‘Oh! you had better not bother + yourself about it, I think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not bother myself about it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No! I recommend you not to bother yourself about it.’ + </p> + <p> + This was such a new point of view that Arthur Clennam found himself at a + loss how to receive it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You can if you like. I can give you plenty of forms to fill up. Lots of + ‘em here. You can have a dozen if you like. But you’ll never go on with + it,’ said number four. + </p> + <p> + ‘Would it be such hopeless work? Excuse me; I am a stranger in England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> don’t say it would be hopeless,’ returned number four, with a + frank smile. ‘I don’t express an opinion about that; I only express an + opinion about you. <i>I</i> don’t think you’d go on with it. However, of + course, you can do as you like. I suppose there was a failure in the + performance of a contract, or something of that kind, was there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I really don’t know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! That you can find out. Then you’ll find out what Department the + contract was in, and then you’ll find out all about it there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon. How shall I find out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you’ll—you’ll ask till they tell you. Then you’ll memorialise + that Department (according to regular forms which you’ll find out) for + leave to memorialise this Department. If you get it (which you may after a + time), that memorial must be entered in that Department, sent to be + registered in this Department, sent back to be signed by that Department, + sent back to be countersigned by this Department, and then it will begin + to be regularly before that Department. You’ll find out when the business + passes through each of these stages by asking at both Departments till + they tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But surely this is not the way to do the business,’ Arthur Clennam could + not help saying. + </p> + <p> + This airy young Barnacle was quite entertained by his simplicity in + supposing for a moment that it was. This light in hand young Barnacle knew + perfectly that it was not. This touch and go young Barnacle had ‘got up’ + the Department in a private secretaryship, that he might be ready for any + little bit of fat that came to hand; and he fully understood the + Department to be a politico-diplomatic hocus pocus piece of machinery for + the assistance of the nobs in keeping off the snobs. This dashing young + Barnacle, in a word, was likely to become a statesman, and to make a + figure. + </p> + <p> + ‘When the business is regularly before that Department, whatever it is,’ + pursued this bright young Barnacle, ‘then you can watch it from time to + time through that Department. When it comes regularly before this + Department, then you must watch it from time to time through this + Department. We shall have to refer it right and left; and when we refer it + anywhere, then you’ll have to look it up. When it comes back to us at any + time, then you had better look <i>us</i> up. When it sticks anywhere, + you’ll have to try to give it a jog. When you write to another Department + about it, and then to this Department about it, and don’t hear anything + satisfactory about it, why then you had better—keep on writing.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam looked very doubtful indeed. ‘But I am obliged to you at + any rate,’ said he, ‘for your politeness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ replied this engaging young Barnacle. ‘Try the thing, and + see how you like it. It will be in your power to give it up at any time, + if you don’t like it. You had better take a lot of forms away with you. + Give him a lot of forms!’ With which instruction to number two, this + sparkling young Barnacle took a fresh handful of papers from numbers one + and three, and carried them into the sanctuary to offer to the presiding + Idol of the Circumlocution Office. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam put his forms in his pocket gloomily enough, and went his + way down the long stone passage and the long stone staircase. He had come + to the swing doors leading into the street, and was waiting, not over + patiently, for two people who were between him and them to pass out and + let him follow, when the voice of one of them struck familiarly on his + ear. He looked at the speaker and recognised Mr Meagles. Mr Meagles was + very red in the face—redder than travel could have made him—and + collaring a short man who was with him, said, ‘come out, you rascal, come + Out!’ + </p> + <p> + It was such an unexpected hearing, and it was also such an unexpected + sight to see Mr Meagles burst the swing doors open, and emerge into the + street with the short man, who was of an unoffending appearance, that + Clennam stood still for the moment exchanging looks of surprise with the + porter. He followed, however, quickly; and saw Mr Meagles going down the + street with his enemy at his side. He soon came up with his old travelling + companion, and touched him on the back. The choleric face which Mr Meagles + turned upon him smoothed when he saw who it was, and he put out his + friendly hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘How are you?’ said Mr Meagles. ‘How d’ye <i>do?</i> I have only just come + over from abroad. I am glad to see you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I am rejoiced to see you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank’ee. Thank’ee!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Meagles and your daughter—?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are as well as possible,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘I only wish you had come upon + me in a more prepossessing condition as to coolness.’ + </p> + <p> + Though it was anything but a hot day, Mr Meagles was in a heated state + that attracted the attention of the passersby; more particularly as he + leaned his back against a railing, took off his hat and cravat, and + heartily rubbed his steaming head and face, and his reddened ears and + neck, without the least regard for public opinion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whew!’ said Mr Meagles, dressing again. ‘That’s comfortable. Now I am + cooler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been ruffled, Mr Meagles. What is the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait a bit, and I’ll tell you. Have you leisure for a turn in the Park?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As much as you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come along then. Ah! you may well look at him.’ He happened to have + turned his eyes towards the offender whom Mr Meagles had so angrily + collared. ‘He’s something to look at, that fellow is.’ + </p> + <p> + He was not much to look at, either in point of size or in point of dress; + being merely a short, square, practical looking man, whose hair had turned + grey, and in whose face and forehead there were deep lines of cogitation, + which looked as though they were carved in hard wood. He was dressed in + decent black, a little rusty, and had the appearance of a sagacious master + in some handicraft. He had a spectacle-case in his hand, which he turned + over and over while he was thus in question, with a certain free use of + the thumb that is never seen but in a hand accustomed to tools. + </p> + <p> + ‘You keep with us,’ said Mr Meagles, in a threatening kind of Way, ‘and + I’ll introduce you presently. Now then!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam wondered within himself, as they took the nearest way to the Park, + what this unknown (who complied in the gentlest manner) could have been + doing. His appearance did not at all justify the suspicion that he had + been detected in designs on Mr Meagles’s pocket-handkerchief; nor had he + any appearance of being quarrelsome or violent. He was a quiet, plain, + steady man; made no attempt to escape; and seemed a little depressed, but + neither ashamed nor repentant. If he were a criminal offender, he must + surely be an incorrigible hypocrite; and if he were no offender, why + should Mr Meagles have collared him in the Circumlocution Office? He + perceived that the man was not a difficulty in his own mind alone, but in + Mr Meagles’s too; for such conversation as they had together on the short + way to the Park was by no means well sustained, and Mr Meagles’s eye + always wandered back to the man, even when he spoke of something very + different. + </p> + <p> + At length they being among the trees, Mr Meagles stopped short, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, will you do me the favour to look at this man? His name is + Doyce, Daniel Doyce. You wouldn’t suppose this man to be a notorious + rascal; would you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I certainly should not.’ It was really a disconcerting question, with the + man there. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. You would not. I know you would not. You wouldn’t suppose him to be a + public offender; would you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. But he is. He is a public offender. What has he been guilty of? + Murder, manslaughter, arson, forgery, swindling, house-breaking, highway + robbery, larceny, conspiracy, fraud? Which should you say, now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should say,’ returned Arthur Clennam, observing a faint smile in Daniel + Doyce’s face, ‘not one of them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are right,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘But he has been ingenious, and he has + been trying to turn his ingenuity to his country’s service. That makes him + a public offender directly, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at the man himself, who only shook his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘This Doyce,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘is a smith and engineer. He is not in a + large way, but he is well known as a very ingenious man. A dozen years + ago, he perfects an invention (involving a very curious secret process) of + great importance to his country and his fellow-creatures. I won’t say how + much money it cost him, or how many years of his life he had been about + it, but he brought it to perfection a dozen years ago. Wasn’t it a dozen?’ + said Mr Meagles, addressing Doyce. ‘He is the most exasperating man in the + world; he never complains!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. Rather better than twelve years ago.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather better?’ said Mr Meagles, ‘you mean rather worse. Well, Mr + Clennam, he addresses himself to the Government. The moment he addresses + himself to the Government, he becomes a public offender! Sir,’ said Mr + Meagles, in danger of making himself excessively hot again, ‘he ceases to + be an innocent citizen, and becomes a culprit. He is treated from that + instant as a man who has done some infernal action. He is a man to be + shirked, put off, brow-beaten, sneered at, handed over by this + highly-connected young or old gentleman, to that highly-connected young or + old gentleman, and dodged back again; he is a man with no rights in his + own time, or his own property; a mere outlaw, whom it is justifiable to + get rid of anyhow; a man to be worn out by all possible means.’ + </p> + <p> + It was not so difficult to believe, after the morning’s experience, as Mr + Meagles supposed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t stand there, Doyce, turning your spectacle-case over and over,’ + cried Mr Meagles, ‘but tell Mr Clennam what you confessed to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I undoubtedly was made to feel,’ said the inventor, ‘as if I had + committed an offence. In dancing attendance at the various offices, I was + always treated, more or less, as if it was a very bad offence. I have + frequently found it necessary to reflect, for my own self-support, that I + really had not done anything to bring myself into the Newgate Calendar, + but only wanted to effect a great saving and a great improvement.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Judge whether I exaggerate. Now you’ll be able + to believe me when I tell you the rest of the case.’ + </p> + <p> + With this prelude, Mr Meagles went through the narrative; the established + narrative, which has become tiresome; the matter-of-course narrative which + we all know by heart. How, after interminable attendance and + correspondence, after infinite impertinences, ignorances, and insults, my + lords made a Minute, number three thousand four hundred and seventy-two, + allowing the culprit to make certain trials of his invention at his own + expense. How the trials were made in the presence of a board of six, of + whom two ancient members were too blind to see it, two other ancient + members were too deaf to hear it, one other ancient member was too lame to + get near it, and the final ancient member was too pig-headed to look at + it. How there were more years; more impertinences, ignorances, and + insults. How my lords then made a Minute, number five thousand one hundred + and three, whereby they resigned the business to the Circumlocution + Office. How the Circumlocution Office, in course of time, took up the + business as if it were a bran new thing of yesterday, which had never been + heard of before; muddled the business, addled the business, tossed the + business in a wet blanket. How the impertinences, ignorances, and insults + went through the multiplication table. How there was a reference of the + invention to three Barnacles and a Stiltstalking, who knew nothing about + it; into whose heads nothing could be hammered about it; who got bored + about it, and reported physical impossibilities about it. How the + Circumlocution Office, in a Minute, number eight thousand seven hundred + and forty, ‘saw no reason to reverse the decision at which my lords had + arrived.’ How the Circumlocution Office, being reminded that my lords had + arrived at no decision, shelved the business. How there had been a final + interview with the head of the Circumlocution Office that very morning, + and how the Brazen Head had spoken, and had been, upon the whole, and + under all the circumstances, and looking at it from the various points of + view, of opinion that one of two courses was to be pursued in respect of + the business: that was to say, either to leave it alone for evermore, or + to begin it all over again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon which,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘as a practical man, I then and there, in + that presence, took Doyce by the collar, and told him it was plain to me + that he was an infamous rascal and treasonable disturber of the government + peace, and took him away. I brought him out of the office door by the + collar, that the very porter might know I was a practical man who + appreciated the official estimate of such characters; and here we are!’ + </p> + <p> + If that airy young Barnacle had been there, he would have frankly told + them perhaps that the Circumlocution Office had achieved its function. + That what the Barnacles had to do, was to stick on to the national ship as + long as they could. That to trim the ship, lighten the ship, clean the + ship, would be to knock them off; that they could but be knocked off once; + and that if the ship went down with them yet sticking to it, that was the + ship’s look out, and not theirs. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘now you know all about Doyce. Except, which I + own does not improve my state of mind, that even now you don’t hear him + complain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must have great patience,’ said Arthur Clennam, looking at him with + some wonder, ‘great forbearance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he returned, ‘I don’t know that I have more than another man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the Lord, you have more than I have, though!’ cried Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + Doyce smiled, as he said to Clennam, ‘You see, my experience of these + things does not begin with myself. It has been in my way to know a little + about them from time to time. Mine is not a particular case. I am not + worse used than a hundred others who have put themselves in the same + position—than all the others, I was going to say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that I should find that a consolation, if it were my case; + but I am very glad that you do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Understand me! I don’t say,’ he replied in his steady, planning way, and + looking into the distance before him as if his grey eye were measuring it, + ‘that it’s recompense for a man’s toil and hope; but it’s a certain sort + of relief to know that I might have counted on this.’ + </p> + <p> + He spoke in that quiet deliberate manner, and in that undertone, which is + often observable in mechanics who consider and adjust with great nicety. + It belonged to him like his suppleness of thumb, or his peculiar way of + tilting up his hat at the back every now and then, as if he were + contemplating some half-finished work of his hand and thinking about it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Disappointed?’ he went on, as he walked between them under the trees. + ‘Yes. No doubt I am disappointed. Hurt? Yes. No doubt I am hurt. That’s + only natural. But what I mean when I say that people who put themselves in + the same position are mostly used in the same way—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In England,’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! of course I mean in England. When they take their inventions into + foreign countries, that’s quite different. And that’s the reason why so + many go there.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles very hot indeed again. + </p> + <p> + ‘What I mean is, that however this comes to be the regular way of our + government, it is its regular way. Have you ever heard of any projector or + inventor who failed to find it all but inaccessible, and whom it did not + discourage and ill-treat?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot say that I ever have.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you ever known it to be beforehand in the adoption of any useful + thing? Ever known it to set an example of any useful kind?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am a good deal older than my friend here,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘and I’ll + answer that. Never.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But we all three have known, I expect,’ said the inventor, ‘a pretty many + cases of its fixed determination to be miles upon miles, and years upon + years, behind the rest of us; and of its being found out persisting in the + use of things long superseded, even after the better things were well + known and generally taken up?’ + </p> + <p> + They all agreed upon that. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well then,’ said Doyce, with a sigh, ‘as I know what such a metal will do + at such a temperature, and such a body under such a pressure, so I may + know (if I will only consider), how these great lords and gentlemen will + certainly deal with such a matter as mine. I have no right to be + surprised, with a head upon my shoulders, and memory in it, that I fall + into the ranks with all who came before me. I ought to have let it alone. + I have had warning enough, I am sure.’ + </p> + <p> + With that he put up his spectacle-case, and said to Arthur, ‘If I don’t + complain, Mr Clennam, I can feel gratitude; and I assure you that I feel + it towards our mutual friend. Many’s the day, and many’s the way in which + he has backed me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + Arthur could not but glance at Daniel Doyce in the ensuing silence. Though + it was evidently in the grain of his character, and of his respect for his + own case, that he should abstain from idle murmuring, it was evident that + he had grown the older, the sterner, and the poorer, for his long + endeavour. He could not but think what a blessed thing it would have been + for this man, if he had taken a lesson from the gentlemen who were so kind + as to take a nation’s affairs in charge, and had learnt How not to do it. + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles was hot and despondent for about five minutes, and then began + to cool and clear up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, come!’ said he. ‘We shall not make this the better by being grim. + Where do you think of going, Dan?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall go back to the factory,’ said Dan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why then, we’ll all go back to the factory, or walk in that direction,’ + returned Mr Meagles cheerfully. ‘Mr Clennam won’t be deterred by its being + in Bleeding Heart Yard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bleeding Heart Yard?’ said Clennam. ‘I want to go there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So much the better,’ cried Mr Meagles. ‘Come along!’ + </p> + <p> + As they went along, certainly one of the party, and probably more than + one, thought that Bleeding Heart Yard was no inappropriate destination for + a man who had been in official correspondence with my lords and the + Barnacles—and perhaps had a misgiving also that Britannia herself + might come to look for lodgings in Bleeding Heart Yard some ugly day or + other, if she over-did the Circumlocution Office. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 11. Let Loose + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> late, dull autumn night was closing in upon the river Saone. The stream, + like a sullied looking-glass in a gloomy place, reflected the clouds + heavily; and the low banks leaned over here and there, as if they were + half curious, and half afraid, to see their darkening pictures in the + water. The flat expanse of country about Chalons lay a long heavy streak, + occasionally made a little ragged by a row of poplar trees against the + wrathful sunset. On the banks of the river Saone it was wet, depressing, + solitary; and the night deepened fast. + </p> + <p> + One man slowly moving on towards Chalons was the only visible figure in + the landscape. Cain might have looked as lonely and avoided. With an old + sheepskin knapsack at his back, and a rough, unbarked stick cut out of + some wood in his hand; miry, footsore, his shoes and gaiters trodden out, + his hair and beard untrimmed; the cloak he carried over his shoulder, and + the clothes he wore, sodden with wet; limping along in pain and + difficulty; he looked as if the clouds were hurrying from him, as if the + wail of the wind and the shuddering of the grass were directed against + him, as if the low mysterious plashing of the water murmured at him, as if + the fitful autumn night were disturbed by him. + </p> + <p> + He glanced here, and he glanced there, sullenly but shrinkingly; and + sometimes stopped and turned about, and looked all round him. Then he + limped on again, toiling and muttering. + </p> + <p> + ‘To the devil with this plain that has no end! To the devil with these + stones that cut like knives! To the devil with this dismal darkness, + wrapping itself about one with a chill! I hate you!’ + </p> + <p> + And he would have visited his hatred upon it all with the scowl he threw + about him, if he could. He trudged a little further; and looking into the + distance before him, stopped again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I, hungry, thirsty, weary. You, imbeciles, where the lights are yonder, + eating and drinking, and warming yourselves at fires! I wish I had the + sacking of your town; I would repay you, my children!’ + </p> + <p> + But the teeth he set at the town, and the hand he shook at the town, + brought the town no nearer; and the man was yet hungrier, and thirstier, + and wearier, when his feet were on its jagged pavement, and he stood + looking about him. + </p> + <p> + There was the hotel with its gateway, and its savoury smell of cooking; + there was the cafe with its bright windows, and its rattling of dominoes; + there was the dyer’s with its strips of red cloth on the doorposts; there + was the silversmith’s with its earrings, and its offerings for altars; + there was the tobacco dealer’s with its lively group of soldier customers + coming out pipe in mouth; there were the bad odours of the town, and the + rain and the refuse in the kennels, and the faint lamps slung across the + road, and the huge Diligence, and its mountain of luggage, and its six + grey horses with their tails tied up, getting under weigh at the coach + office. But no small cabaret for a straitened traveller being within + sight, he had to seek one round the dark corner, where the cabbage leaves + lay thickest, trodden about the public cistern at which women had not yet + left off drawing water. There, in the back street he found one, the Break + of Day. The curtained windows clouded the Break of Day, but it seemed + light and warm, and it announced in legible inscriptions with appropriate + pictorial embellishment of billiard cue and ball, that at the Break of Day + one could play billiards; that there one could find meat, drink, and + lodgings, whether one came on horseback, or came on foot; and that it kept + good wines, liqueurs, and brandy. The man turned the handle of the Break + of Day door, and limped in. + </p> + <p> + He touched his discoloured slouched hat, as he came in at the door, to a + few men who occupied the room. Two were playing dominoes at one of the + little tables; three or four were seated round the stove, conversing as + they smoked; the billiard-table in the centre was left alone for the time; + the landlady of the Daybreak sat behind her little counter among her + cloudy bottles of syrups, baskets of cakes, and leaden drainage for + glasses, working at her needle. + </p> + <p> + Making his way to an empty little table in a corner of the room behind the + stove, he put down his knapsack and his cloak upon the ground. As he + raised his head from stooping to do so, he found the landlady beside him. + </p> + <p> + ‘One can lodge here to-night, madame?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perfectly!’ said the landlady in a high, sing-song, cheery voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good. One can dine—sup—what you please to call it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, perfectly!’ cried the landlady as before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dispatch then, madame, if you please. Something to eat, as quickly as you + can; and some wine at once. I am exhausted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is very bad weather, monsieur,’ said the landlady. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cursed weather.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And a very long road.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A cursed road.’ + </p> + <p> + His hoarse voice failed him, and he rested his head upon his hands until a + bottle of wine was brought from the counter. Having filled and emptied his + little tumbler twice, and having broken off an end from the great loaf + that was set before him with his cloth and napkin, soup-plate, salt, + pepper, and oil, he rested his back against the corner of the wall, made a + couch of the bench on which he sat, and began to chew crust, until such + time as his repast should be ready. + </p> + <p> + There had been that momentary interruption of the talk about the stove, + and that temporary inattention to and distraction from one another, which + is usually inseparable in such a company from the arrival of a stranger. + It had passed over by this time; and the men had done glancing at him, and + were talking again. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the true reason,’ said one of them, bringing a story he had been + telling, to a close, ‘that’s the true reason why they said that the devil + was let loose.’ The speaker was the tall Swiss belonging to the church, + and he brought something of the authority of the church into the + discussion—especially as the devil was in question. + </p> + <p> + The landlady having given her directions for the new guest’s entertainment + to her husband, who acted as cook to the Break of Day, had resumed her + needlework behind her counter. She was a smart, neat, bright little woman, + with a good deal of cap and a good deal of stocking, and she struck into + the conversation with several laughing nods of her head, but without + looking up from her work. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah Heaven, then,’ said she. ‘When the boat came up from Lyons, and + brought the news that the devil was actually let loose at Marseilles, some + fly-catchers swallowed it. But I? No, not I.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Madame, you are always right,’ returned the tall Swiss. ‘Doubtless you + were enraged against that man, madame?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, yes, then!’ cried the landlady, raising her eyes from her work, + opening them very wide, and tossing her head on one side. ‘Naturally, + yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He was a bad subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He was a wicked wretch,’ said the landlady, ‘and well merited what he had + the good fortune to escape. So much the worse.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay, madame! Let us see,’ returned the Swiss, argumentatively turning + his cigar between his lips. ‘It may have been his unfortunate destiny. He + may have been the child of circumstances. It is always possible that he + had, and has, good in him if one did but know how to find it out. + Philosophical philanthropy teaches—’ + </p> + <p> + The rest of the little knot about the stove murmured an objection to the + introduction of that threatening expression. Even the two players at + dominoes glanced up from their game, as if to protest against + philosophical philanthropy being brought by name into the Break of Day. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold there, you and your philanthropy,’ cried the smiling landlady, + nodding her head more than ever. ‘Listen then. I am a woman, I. I know + nothing of philosophical philanthropy. But I know what I have seen, and + what I have looked in the face in this world here, where I find myself. + And I tell you this, my friend, that there are people (men and women both, + unfortunately) who have no good in them—none. That there are people + whom it is necessary to detest without compromise. That there are people + who must be dealt with as enemies of the human race. That there are people + who have no human heart, and who must be crushed like savage beasts and + cleared out of the way. They are but few, I hope; but I have seen (in this + world here where I find myself, and even at the little Break of Day) that + there are such people. And I do not doubt that this man—whatever + they call him, I forget his name—is one of them.’ + </p> + <p> + The landlady’s lively speech was received with greater favour at the Break + of Day, than it would have elicited from certain amiable whitewashers of + the class she so unreasonably objected to, nearer Great Britain. + </p> + <p> + ‘My faith! If your philosophical philanthropy,’ said the landlady, putting + down her work, and rising to take the stranger’s soup from her husband, + who appeared with it at a side door, ‘puts anybody at the mercy of such + people by holding terms with them at all, in words or deeds, or both, take + it away from the Break of Day, for it isn’t worth a sou.’ + </p> + <p> + As she placed the soup before the guest, who changed his attitude to a + sitting one, he looked her full in the face, and his moustache went up + under his nose, and his nose came down over his moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said the previous speaker, ‘let us come back to our subject. + Leaving all that aside, gentlemen, it was because the man was acquitted on + his trial that people said at Marseilles that the devil was let loose. + That was how the phrase began to circulate, and what it meant; nothing + more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do they call him?’ said the landlady. ‘Biraud, is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rigaud, madame,’ returned the tall Swiss. + </p> + <p> + ‘Rigaud! To be sure.’ + </p> + <p> + The traveller’s soup was succeeded by a dish of meat, and that by a dish + of vegetables. He ate all that was placed before him, emptied his bottle + of wine, called for a glass of rum, and smoked his cigarette with his cup + of coffee. As he became refreshed, he became overbearing; and patronised + the company at the Daybreak in certain small talk at which he assisted, as + if his condition were far above his appearance. + </p> + <p> + The company might have had other engagements, or they might have felt + their inferiority, but in any case they dispersed by degrees, and not + being replaced by other company, left their new patron in possession of + the Break of Day. The landlord was clinking about in his kitchen; the + landlady was quiet at her work; and the refreshed traveller sat smoking by + the stove, warming his ragged feet. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me, madame—that Biraud.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rigaud, monsieur.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rigaud. Pardon me again—has contracted your displeasure, how?’ + </p> + <p> + The landlady, who had been at one moment thinking within herself that this + was a handsome man, at another moment that this was an ill-looking man, + observed the nose coming down and the moustache going up, and strongly + inclined to the latter decision. Rigaud was a criminal, she said, who had + killed his wife. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, ay? Death of my life, that’s a criminal indeed. But how do you know + it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the world knows it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah! And yet he escaped justice?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur, the law could not prove it against him to its satisfaction. So + the law says. Nevertheless, all the world knows he did it. The people knew + it so well, that they tried to tear him to pieces.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Being all in perfect accord with their own wives?’ said the guest. + ‘Haha!’ + </p> + <p> + The landlady of the Break of Day looked at him again, and felt almost + confirmed in her last decision. He had a fine hand, though, and he turned + it with a great show. She began once more to think that he was not + ill-looking after all. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you mention, madame—or was it mentioned among the gentlemen—what + became of him?’ + </p> + <p> + The landlady shook her head; it being the first conversational stage at + which her vivacious earnestness had ceased to nod it, keeping time to what + she said. It had been mentioned at the Daybreak, she remarked, on the + authority of the journals, that he had been kept in prison for his own + safety. However that might be, he had escaped his deserts; so much the + worse. + </p> + <p> + The guest sat looking at her as he smoked out his final cigarette, and as + she sat with her head bent over her work, with an expression that might + have resolved her doubts, and brought her to a lasting conclusion on the + subject of his good or bad looks if she had seen it. When she did look up, + the expression was not there. The hand was smoothing his shaggy moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘May one ask to be shown to bed, madame?’ + </p> + <p> + Very willingly, monsieur. Hola, my husband! My husband would conduct him + up-stairs. There was one traveller there, asleep, who had gone to bed very + early indeed, being overpowered by fatigue; but it was a large chamber + with two beds in it, and space enough for twenty. This the landlady of the + Break of Day chirpingly explained, calling between whiles, ‘Hola, my + husband!’ out at the side door. + </p> + <p> + My husband answered at length, ‘It is I, my wife!’ and presenting himself + in his cook’s cap, lighted the traveller up a steep and narrow staircase; + the traveller carrying his own cloak and knapsack, and bidding the + landlady good night with a complimentary reference to the pleasure of + seeing her again to-morrow. It was a large room, with a rough splintery + floor, unplastered rafters overhead, and two bedsteads on opposite sides. + Here ‘my husband’ put down the candle he carried, and with a sidelong look + at his guest stooping over his knapsack, gruffly gave him the instruction, + ‘The bed to the right!’ and left him to his repose. The landlord, whether + he was a good or a bad physiognomist, had fully made up his mind that the + guest was an ill-looking fellow. + </p> + <p> + The guest looked contemptuously at the clean coarse bedding prepared for + him, and, sitting down on the rush chair at the bedside, drew his money + out of his pocket, and told it over in his hand. ‘One must eat,’ he + muttered to himself, ‘but by Heaven I must eat at the cost of some other + man to-morrow!’ + </p> + <p> + As he sat pondering, and mechanically weighing his money in his palm, the + deep breathing of the traveller in the other bed fell so regularly upon + his hearing that it attracted his eyes in that direction. The man was + covered up warm, and had drawn the white curtain at his head, so that he + could be only heard, not seen. But the deep regular breathing, still going + on while the other was taking off his worn shoes and gaiters, and still + continuing when he had laid aside his coat and cravat, became at length a + strong provocative to curiosity, and incentive to get a glimpse of the + sleeper’s face. + </p> + <p> + The waking traveller, therefore, stole a little nearer, and yet a little + nearer, and a little nearer to the sleeping traveller’s bed, until he + stood close beside it. Even then he could not see his face, for he had + drawn the sheet over it. The regular breathing still continuing, he put + his smooth white hand (such a treacherous hand it looked, as it went + creeping from him!) to the sheet, and gently lifted it away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Death of my soul!’ he whispered, falling back, ‘here’s Cavalletto!’ + </p> + <p> + The little Italian, previously influenced in his sleep, perhaps, by the + stealthy presence at his bedside, stopped in his regular breathing, and + with a long deep respiration opened his eyes. At first they were not + awake, though open. He lay for some seconds looking placidly at his old + prison companion, and then, all at once, with a cry of surprise and alarm, + sprang out of bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush! What’s the matter? Keep quiet! It’s I. You know me?’ cried the + other, in a suppressed voice. + </p> + <p> + But John Baptist, widely staring, muttering a number of invocations and + ejaculations, tremblingly backing into a corner, slipping on his trousers, + and tying his coat by the two sleeves round his neck, manifested an + unmistakable desire to escape by the door rather than renew the + acquaintance. Seeing this, his old prison comrade fell back upon the door, + and set his shoulders against it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cavalletto! Wake, boy! Rub your eyes and look at me. Not the name you + used to call me—don’t use that—Lagnier, say Lagnier!’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist, staring at him with eyes opened to their utmost width, made + a number of those national, backhanded shakes of the right forefinger in + the air, as if he were resolved on negativing beforehand everything that + the other could possibly advance during the whole term of his life. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cavalletto! Give me your hand. You know Lagnier, the gentleman. Touch the + hand of a gentleman!’ + </p> + <p> + Submitting himself to the old tone of condescending authority, John + Baptist, not at all steady on his legs as yet, advanced and put his hand + in his patron’s. Monsieur Lagnier laughed; and having given it a squeeze, + tossed it up and let it go. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you were—’ faltered John Baptist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not shaved? No. See here!’ cried Lagnier, giving his head a twirl; ‘as + tight on as your own.’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist, with a slight shiver, looked all round the room as if to + recall where he was. His patron took that opportunity of turning the key + in the door, and then sat down upon his bed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look!’ he said, holding up his shoes and gaiters. ‘That’s a poor trim for + a gentleman, you’ll say. No matter, you shall see how soon I’ll mend it. + Come and sit down. Take your old place!’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist, looking anything but reassured, sat down on the floor at the + bedside, keeping his eyes upon his patron all the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s well!’ cried Lagnier. ‘Now we might be in the old infernal hole + again, hey? How long have you been out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two days after you, my master.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you come here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was cautioned not to stay there, and so I left the town at once, and + since then I have changed about. I have been doing odds and ends at + Avignon, at Pont Esprit, at Lyons; upon the Rhone, upon the Saone.’ As he + spoke, he rapidly mapped the places out with his sunburnt hand upon the + floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘And where are you going?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Going, my master?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay!’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist seemed to desire to evade the question without knowing how. + ‘By Bacchus!’ he said at last, as if he were forced to the admission, ‘I + have sometimes had a thought of going to Paris, and perhaps to England.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cavalletto. This is in confidence. I also am going to Paris and perhaps + to England. We’ll go together.’ + </p> + <p> + The little man nodded his head, and showed his teeth; and yet seemed not + quite convinced that it was a surpassingly desirable arrangement. + </p> + <p> + ‘We’ll go together,’ repeated Lagnier. ‘You shall see how soon I will + force myself to be recognised as a gentleman, and you shall profit by it. + It is agreed? Are we one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, surely, surely!’ said the little man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you shall hear before I sleep—and in six words, for I want + sleep—how I appear before you, I, Lagnier. Remember that. Not the + other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Altro, altro! Not Ri——’ Before John Baptist could finish the + name, his comrade had got his hand under his chin and fiercely shut up his + mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Death! what are you doing? Do you want me to be trampled upon and stoned? + Do <i>you</i> want to be trampled upon and stoned? You would be. You don’t + imagine that they would set upon me, and let my prison chum go? Don’t + think it!’ + </p> + <p> + There was an expression in his face as he released his grip of his + friend’s jaw, from which his friend inferred that if the course of events + really came to any stoning and trampling, Monsieur Lagnier would so + distinguish him with his notice as to ensure his having his full share of + it. He remembered what a cosmopolitan gentleman Monsieur Lagnier was, and + how few weak distinctions he made. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am a man,’ said Monsieur Lagnier, ‘whom society has deeply wronged + since you last saw me. You know that I am sensitive and brave, and that it + is my character to govern. How has society respected those qualities in + me? I have been shrieked at through the streets. I have been guarded + through the streets against men, and especially women, running at me armed + with any weapons they could lay their hands on. I have lain in prison for + security, with the place of my confinement kept a secret, lest I should be + torn out of it and felled by a hundred blows. I have been carted out of + Marseilles in the dead of night, and carried leagues away from it packed + in straw. It has not been safe for me to go near my house; and, with a + beggar’s pittance in my pocket, I have walked through vile mud and weather + ever since, until my feet are crippled—look at them! Such are the + humiliations that society has inflicted upon me, possessing the qualities + I have mentioned, and which you know me to possess. But society shall pay + for it.’ + </p> + <p> + All this he said in his companion’s ear, and with his hand before his + lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even here,’ he went on in the same way, ‘even in this mean drinking-shop, + society pursues me. Madame defames me, and her guests defame me. I, too, a + gentleman with manners and accomplishments to strike them dead! But the + wrongs society has heaped upon me are treasured in this breast.’ + </p> + <p> + To all of which John Baptist, listening attentively to the suppressed + hoarse voice, said from time to time, ‘Surely, surely!’ tossing his head + and shutting his eyes, as if there were the clearest case against society + that perfect candour could make out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Put my shoes there,’ continued Lagnier. ‘Hang my cloak to dry there by + the door. Take my hat.’ He obeyed each instruction, as it was given. ‘And + this is the bed to which society consigns me, is it? Hah. <i>Very</i> + well!’ + </p> + <p> + As he stretched out his length upon it, with a ragged handkerchief bound + round his wicked head, and only his wicked head showing above the + bedclothes, John Baptist was rather strongly reminded of what had so very + nearly happened to prevent the moustache from any more going up as it did, + and the nose from any more coming down as it did. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shaken out of destiny’s dice-box again into your company, eh? By Heaven! + So much the better for you. You’ll profit by it. I shall need a long rest. + Let me sleep in the morning.’ + </p> + <p> + John Baptist replied that he should sleep as long as he would, and wishing + him a happy night, put out the candle. One might have supposed that the + next proceeding of the Italian would have been to undress; but he did + exactly the reverse, and dressed himself from head to foot, saving his + shoes. When he had so done, he lay down upon his bed with some of its + coverings over him, and his coat still tied round his neck, to get through + the night. + </p> + <p> + When he started up, the Godfather Break of Day was peeping at its + namesake. He rose, took his shoes in his hand, turned the key in the door + with great caution, and crept downstairs. Nothing was astir there but the + smell of coffee, wine, tobacco, and syrups; and madame’s little counter + looked ghastly enough. But he had paid madame his little note at it over + night, and wanted to see nobody—wanted nothing but to get on his + shoes and his knapsack, open the door, and run away. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0131m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0131m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0131.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + He prospered in his object. No movement or voice was heard when he opened + the door; no wicked head tied up in a ragged handkerchief looked out of + the upper window. When the sun had raised his full disc above the flat + line of the horizon, and was striking fire out of the long muddy vista of + paved road with its weary avenue of little trees, a black speck moved + along the road and splashed among the flaming pools of rain-water, which + black speck was John Baptist Cavalletto running away from his patron. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 12. Bleeding Heart Yard + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n London itself, though in the old rustic road towards a suburb of note + where in the days of William Shakespeare, author and stage-player, there + were Royal hunting-seats—howbeit no sport is left there now but for + hunters of men—Bleeding Heart Yard was to be found; a place much + changed in feature and in fortune, yet with some relish of ancient + greatness about it. Two or three mighty stacks of chimneys, and a few + large dark rooms which had escaped being walled and subdivided out of the + recognition of their old proportions, gave the Yard a character. It was + inhabited by poor people, who set up their rest among its faded glories, + as Arabs of the desert pitch their tents among the fallen stones of the + Pyramids; but there was a family sentimental feeling prevalent in the + Yard, that it had a character. + </p> + <p> + As if the aspiring city had become puffed up in the very ground on which + it stood, the ground had so risen about Bleeding Heart Yard that you got + into it down a flight of steps which formed no part of the original + approach, and got out of it by a low gateway into a maze of shabby + streets, which went about and about, tortuously ascending to the level + again. At this end of the Yard and over the gateway, was the factory of + Daniel Doyce, often heavily beating like a bleeding heart of iron, with + the clink of metal upon metal. + </p> + <p> + The opinion of the Yard was divided respecting the derivation of its name. + The more practical of its inmates abided by the tradition of a murder; the + gentler and more imaginative inhabitants, including the whole of the + tender sex, were loyal to the legend of a young lady of former times + closely imprisoned in her chamber by a cruel father for remaining true to + her own true love, and refusing to marry the suitor he chose for her. The + legend related how that the young lady used to be seen up at her window + behind the bars, murmuring a love-lorn song of which the burden was, + ‘Bleeding Heart, Bleeding Heart, bleeding away,’ until she died. It was + objected by the murderous party that this Refrain was notoriously the + invention of a tambour-worker, a spinster and romantic, still lodging in + the Yard. But, forasmuch as all favourite legends must be associated with + the affections, and as many more people fall in love than commit murder—which + it may be hoped, howsoever bad we are, will continue until the end of the + world to be the dispensation under which we shall live—the Bleeding + Heart, Bleeding Heart, bleeding away story, carried the day by a great + majority. Neither party would listen to the antiquaries who delivered + learned lectures in the neighbourhood, showing the Bleeding Heart to have + been the heraldic cognisance of the old family to whom the property had + once belonged. And, considering that the hour-glass they turned from year + to year was filled with the earthiest and coarsest sand, the Bleeding + Heart Yarders had reason enough for objecting to be despoiled of the one + little golden grain of poetry that sparkled in it. + </p> + <p> + Down in to the Yard, by way of the steps, came Daniel Doyce, Mr Meagles, + and Clennam. Passing along the Yard, and between the open doors on either + hand, all abundantly garnished with light children nursing heavy ones, + they arrived at its opposite boundary, the gateway. Here Arthur Clennam + stopped to look about him for the domicile of Plornish, plasterer, whose + name, according to the custom of Londoners, Daniel Doyce had never seen or + heard of to that hour. + </p> + <p> + It was plain enough, nevertheless, as Little Dorrit had said; over a + lime-splashed gateway in the corner, within which Plornish kept a ladder + and a barrel or two. The last house in Bleeding Heart Yard which she had + described as his place of habitation, was a large house, let off to + various tenants; but Plornish ingeniously hinted that he lived in the + parlour, by means of a painted hand under his name, the forefinger of + which hand (on which the artist had depicted a ring and a most elaborate + nail of the genteelest form) referred all inquirers to that apartment. + </p> + <p> + Parting from his companions, after arranging another meeting with Mr + Meagles, Clennam went alone into the entry, and knocked with his knuckles + at the parlour-door. It was opened presently by a woman with a child in + her arms, whose unoccupied hand was hastily rearranging the upper part of + her dress. This was Mrs Plornish, and this maternal action was the action + of Mrs Plornish during a large part of her waking existence. + </p> + <p> + Was Mr Plornish at home? ‘Well, sir,’ said Mrs Plornish, a civil woman, + ‘not to deceive you, he’s gone to look for a job.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not to deceive you’ was a method of speech with Mrs Plornish. She would + deceive you, under any circumstances, as little as might be; but she had a + trick of answering in this provisional form. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think he will be back soon, if I wait for him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been expecting him,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘this half an hour, at any + minute of time. Walk in, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur entered the rather dark and close parlour (though it was lofty + too), and sat down in the chair she placed for him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not to deceive you, sir, I notice it,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘and I take it + kind of you.’ + </p> + <p> + He was at a loss to understand what she meant; and by expressing as much + in his looks, elicited her explanation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It ain’t many that comes into a poor place, that deems it worth their + while to move their hats,’ said Mrs Plornish. ‘But people think more of it + than people think.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam returned, with an uncomfortable feeling in so very slight a + courtesy being unusual, Was that all! And stooping down to pinch the cheek + of another young child who was sitting on the floor, staring at him, asked + Mrs Plornish how old that fine boy was? + </p> + <p> + ‘Four year just turned, sir,’ said Mrs Plornish. ‘He <i>is</i> a fine + little fellow, ain’t he, sir? But this one is rather sickly.’ She tenderly + hushed the baby in her arms, as she said it. ‘You wouldn’t mind my asking + if it happened to be a job as you was come about, sir, would you?’ asked + Mrs Plornish wistfully. + </p> + <p> + She asked it so anxiously, that if he had been in possession of any kind + of tenement, he would have had it plastered a foot deep rather than answer + No. But he was obliged to answer No; and he saw a shade of disappointment + on her face, as she checked a sigh, and looked at the low fire. Then he + saw, also, that Mrs Plornish was a young woman, made somewhat slatternly + in herself and her belongings by poverty; and so dragged at by poverty and + the children together, that their united forces had already dragged her + face into wrinkles. + </p> + <p> + ‘All such things as jobs,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘seems to me to have gone + underground, they do indeed.’ (Herein Mrs Plornish limited her remark to + the plastering trade, and spoke without reference to the Circumlocution + Office and the Barnacle Family.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it so difficult to get work?’ asked Arthur Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Plornish finds it so,’ she returned. ‘He is quite unfortunate. Really he + is.’ + </p> + <p> + Really he was. He was one of those many wayfarers on the road of life, who + seem to be afflicted with supernatural corns, rendering it impossible for + them to keep up even with their lame competitors. A willing, working, soft + hearted, not hard-headed fellow, Plornish took his fortune as smoothly as + could be expected; but it was a rough one. It so rarely happened that + anybody seemed to want him, it was such an exceptional case when his + powers were in any request, that his misty mind could not make out how it + happened. He took it as it came, therefore; he tumbled into all kinds of + difficulties, and tumbled out of them; and, by tumbling through life, got + himself considerably bruised. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not for want of looking after jobs, I am sure,’ said Mrs Plornish, + lifting up her eyebrows, and searching for a solution of the problem + between the bars of the grate; ‘nor yet for want of working at them when + they are to be got. No one ever heard my husband complain of work.’ + </p> + <p> + Somehow or other, this was the general misfortune of Bleeding Heart Yard. + From time to time there were public complaints, pathetically going about, + of labour being scarce—which certain people seemed to take + extraordinarily ill, as though they had an absolute right to it on their + own terms—but Bleeding Heart Yard, though as willing a Yard as any + in Britain, was never the better for the demand. That high old family, the + Barnacles, had long been too busy with their great principle to look into + the matter; and indeed the matter had nothing to do with their + watchfulness in out-generalling all other high old families except the + Stiltstalkings. + </p> + <p> + While Mrs Plornish spoke in these words of her absent lord, her lord + returned. A smooth-cheeked, fresh-coloured, sandy-whiskered man of thirty. + Long in the legs, yielding at the knees, foolish in the face, + flannel-jacketed, lime-whitened. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is Plornish, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I came,’ said Clennam, rising, ‘to beg the favour of a little + conversation with you on the subject of the Dorrit family.’ + </p> + <p> + Plornish became suspicious. Seemed to scent a creditor. Said, ‘Ah, yes. + Well. He didn’t know what satisfaction <i>he</i> could give any gentleman, + respecting that family. What might it be about, now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you better,’ said Clennam, smiling, ‘than you suppose.’ + </p> + <p> + Plornish observed, not smiling in return, And yet he hadn’t the pleasure + of being acquainted with the gentleman, neither. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Arthur, ‘I know your kind offices at second hand, but on the + best authority; through Little Dorrit.—I mean,’ he explained, ‘Miss + Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, is it? Oh! I’ve heard of you, Sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I of you,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please to sit down again, Sir, and consider yourself welcome.—Why, + yes,’ said Plornish, taking a chair, and lifting the elder child upon his + knee, that he might have the moral support of speaking to a stranger over + his head, ‘I have been on the wrong side of the Lock myself, and in that + way we come to know Miss Dorrit. Me and my wife, we are well acquainted + with Miss Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Intimate!’ cried Mrs Plornish. Indeed, she was so proud of the + acquaintance, that she had awakened some bitterness of spirit in the Yard + by magnifying to an enormous amount the sum for which Miss Dorrit’s father + had become insolvent. The Bleeding Hearts resented her claiming to know + people of such distinction. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was her father that I got acquainted with first. And through getting + acquainted with him, you see—why—I got acquainted with her,’ + said Plornish tautologically. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! And there’s manners! There’s polish! There’s a gentleman to have run + to seed in the Marshalsea jail! Why, perhaps you are not aware,’ said + Plornish, lowering his voice, and speaking with a perverse admiration of + what he ought to have pitied or despised, ‘not aware that Miss Dorrit and + her sister dursn’t let him know that they work for a living. No!’ said + Plornish, looking with a ridiculous triumph first at his wife, and then + all round the room. ‘Dursn’t let him know it, they dursn’t!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Without admiring him for that,’ Clennam quietly observed, ‘I am very + sorry for him.’ The remark appeared to suggest to Plornish, for the first + time, that it might not be a very fine trait of character after all. He + pondered about it for a moment, and gave it up. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to me,’ he resumed, ‘certainly Mr Dorrit is as affable with me, I am + sure, as I can possibly expect. Considering the differences and distances + betwixt us, more so. But it’s Miss Dorrit that we were speaking of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True. Pray how did you introduce her at my mother’s!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Plornish picked a bit of lime out of his whisker, put it between his + lips, turned it with his tongue like a sugar-plum, considered, found + himself unequal to the task of lucid explanation, and appealing to his + wife, said, ‘Sally, <i>you</i> may as well mention how it was, old woman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Dorrit,’ said Sally, hushing the baby from side to side, and laying + her chin upon the little hand as it tried to disarrange the gown again, + ‘came here one afternoon with a bit of writing, telling that how she + wished for needlework, and asked if it would be considered any + ill-conwenience in case she was to give her address here.’ (Plornish + repeated, her address here, in a low voice, as if he were making responses + at church.) ‘Me and Plornish says, No, Miss Dorrit, no ill-conwenience,’ + (Plornish repeated, no ill-conwenience,) ‘and she wrote it in, according. + Which then me and Plornish says, Ho Miss Dorrit!’ (Plornish repeated, Ho + Miss Dorrit.) ‘Have you thought of copying it three or four times, as the + way to make it known in more places than one? No, says Miss Dorrit, I have + not, but I will. She copied it out according, on this table, in a sweet + writing, and Plornish, he took it where he worked, having a job just + then,’ (Plornish repeated job just then,) ‘and likewise to the landlord of + the Yard; through which it was that Mrs Clennam first happened to employ + Miss Dorrit.’ Plornish repeated, employ Miss Dorrit; and Mrs Plornish + having come to an end, feigned to bite the fingers of the little hand as + she kissed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘The landlord of the Yard,’ said Arthur Clennam, ‘is—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is Mr Casby, by name, he is,’ said Plornish, ‘and Pancks, he collects + the rents. That,’ added Mr Plornish, dwelling on the subject with a slow + thoughtfulness that appeared to have no connection with any specific + object, and to lead him nowhere, ‘that is about what <i>they</i> are, you + may believe me or not, as you think proper.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay?’ returned Clennam, thoughtful in his turn. ‘Mr Casby, too! An old + acquaintance of mine, long ago!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Plornish did not see his road to any comment on this fact, and made + none. As there truly was no reason why he should have the least interest + in it, Arthur Clennam went on to the present purport of his visit; namely, + to make Plornish the instrument of effecting Tip’s release, with as little + detriment as possible to the self-reliance and self-helpfulness of the + young man, supposing him to possess any remnant of those qualities: + without doubt a very wide stretch of supposition. Plornish, having been + made acquainted with the cause of action from the Defendant’s own mouth, + gave Arthur to understand that the Plaintiff was a ‘Chaunter’—meaning, + not a singer of anthems, but a seller of horses—and that he + (Plornish) considered that ten shillings in the pound ‘would settle + handsome,’ and that more would be a waste of money. The Principal and + instrument soon drove off together to a stable-yard in High Holborn, where + a remarkably fine grey gelding, worth, at the lowest figure, seventy-five + guineas (not taking into account the value of the shot he had been made to + swallow for the improvement of his form), was to be parted with for a + twenty-pound note, in consequence of his having run away last week with + Mrs Captain Barbary of Cheltenham, who wasn’t up to a horse of his + courage, and who, in mere spite, insisted on selling him for that + ridiculous sum: or, in other words, on giving him away. Plornish, going up + this yard alone and leaving his Principal outside, found a gentleman with + tight drab legs, a rather old hat, a little hooked stick, and a blue + neckerchief (Captain Maroon of Gloucestershire, a private friend of + Captain Barbary); who happened to be there, in a friendly way, to mention + these little circumstances concerning the remarkably fine grey gelding to + any real judge of a horse and quick snapper-up of a good thing, who might + look in at that address as per advertisement. This gentleman, happening + also to be the Plaintiff in the Tip case, referred Mr Plornish to his + solicitor, and declined to treat with Mr Plornish, or even to endure his + presence in the yard, unless he appeared there with a twenty-pound note: + in which case only, the gentleman would augur from appearances that he + meant business, and might be induced to talk to him. On this hint, Mr + Plornish retired to communicate with his Principal, and presently came + back with the required credentials. Then said Captain Maroon, ‘Now, how + much time do you want to make the other twenty in? Now, I’ll give you a + month.’ Then said Captain Maroon, when that wouldn’t suit, ‘Now, I’ll tell + what I’ll do with you. You shall get me a good bill at four months, made + payable at a banking-house, for the other twenty!’ Then said Captain + Maroon, when <i>that</i> wouldn’t suit, ‘Now, come; Here’s the last I’ve + got to say to you. You shall give me another ten down, and I’ll run my pen + clean through it.’ Then said Captain Maroon when <i>that</i> wouldn’t + suit, ‘Now, I’ll tell you what it is, and this shuts it up; he has used me + bad, but I’ll let him off for another five down and a bottle of wine; and + if you mean done, say done, and if you don’t like it, leave it.’ Finally + said Captain Maroon, when <i>that</i> wouldn’t suit either, ‘Hand over, + then!’—And in consideration of the first offer, gave a receipt in + full and discharged the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Plornish,’ said Arthur, ‘I trust to you, if you please, to keep my + secret. If you will undertake to let the young man know that he is free, + and to tell him that you were employed to compound for the debt by some + one whom you are not at liberty to name, you will not only do me a + service, but may do him one, and his sister also.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The last reason, sir,’ said Plornish, ‘would be quite sufficient. Your + wishes shall be attended to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A Friend has obtained his discharge, you can say if you please. A Friend + who hopes that for his sister’s sake, if for no one else’s, he will make + good use of his liberty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your wishes, sir, shall be attended to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And if you will be so good, in your better knowledge of the family, as to + communicate freely with me, and to point out to me any means by which you + think I may be delicately and really useful to Little Dorrit, I shall feel + under an obligation to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t name it, sir,’ returned Plornish, ‘it’ll be ekally a pleasure an a—it’l + be ekally a pleasure and a—’ Finding himself unable to balance his + sentence after two efforts, Mr Plornish wisely dropped it. He took + Clennam’s card and appropriate pecuniary compliment. + </p> + <p> + He was earnest to finish his commission at once, and his Principal was in + the same mind. So his Principal offered to set him down at the Marshalsea + Gate, and they drove in that direction over Blackfriars Bridge. On the + way, Arthur elicited from his new friend a confused summary of the + interior life of Bleeding Heart Yard. They was all hard up there, Mr + Plornish said, uncommon hard up, to be sure. Well, he couldn’t say how it + was; he didn’t know as anybody <i>could</i> say how it was; all he know’d + was, that so it was. When a man felt, on his own back and in his own + belly, that poor he was, that man (Mr Plornish gave it as his decided + belief) know’d well that he was poor somehow or another, and you couldn’t + talk it out of him, no more than you could talk Beef into him. Then you + see, some people as was better off said, and a good many such people lived + pretty close up to the mark themselves if not beyond it so he’d heerd, + that they was ‘improvident’ (that was the favourite word) down the Yard. + For instance, if they see a man with his wife and children going to + Hampton Court in a Wan, perhaps once in a year, they says, ‘Hallo! I + thought you was poor, my improvident friend!’ Why, Lord, how hard it was + upon a man! What was a man to do? He couldn’t go mollancholy mad, and even + if he did, you wouldn’t be the better for it. In Mr Plornish’s judgment + you would be the worse for it. Yet you seemed to want to make a man + mollancholy mad. You was always at it—if not with your right hand, + with your left. What was they a doing in the Yard? Why, take a look at ‘em + and see. There was the girls and their mothers a working at their sewing, + or their shoe-binding, or their trimming, or their waistcoat making, day + and night and night and day, and not more than able to keep body and soul + together after all—often not so much. There was people of pretty + well all sorts of trades you could name, all wanting to work, and yet not + able to get it. There was old people, after working all their lives, going + and being shut up in the workhouse, much worse fed and lodged and treated + altogether, than—Mr Plornish said manufacturers, but appeared to + mean malefactors. Why, a man didn’t know where to turn himself for a crumb + of comfort. As to who was to blame for it, Mr Plornish didn’t know who was + to blame for it. He could tell you who suffered, but he couldn’t tell you + whose fault it was. It wasn’t <i>his</i> place to find out, and who’d mind + what he said, if he did find out? He only know’d that it wasn’t put right + by them what undertook that line of business, and that it didn’t come + right of itself. And, in brief, his illogical opinion was, that if you + couldn’t do nothing for him, you had better take nothing from him for + doing of it; so far as he could make out, that was about what it come to. + Thus, in a prolix, gently-growling, foolish way, did Plornish turn the + tangled skein of his estate about and about, like a blind man who was + trying to find some beginning or end to it; until they reached the prison + gate. There, he left his Principal alone; to wonder, as he rode away, how + many thousand Plornishes there might be within a day or two’s journey of + the Circumlocution Office, playing sundry curious variations on the same + tune, which were not known by ear in that glorious institution. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 13. Patriarchal + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he mention of Mr Casby again revived in Clennam’s memory the smouldering + embers of curiosity and interest which Mrs Flintwinch had fanned on the + night of his arrival. Flora Casby had been the beloved of his boyhood; and + Flora was the daughter and only child of wooden-headed old Christopher (so + he was still occasionally spoken of by some irreverent spirits who had had + dealings with him, and in whom familiarity had bred its proverbial result + perhaps), who was reputed to be rich in weekly tenants, and to get a good + quantity of blood out of the stones of several unpromising courts and + alleys. + </p> + <p> + After some days of inquiry and research, Arthur Clennam became convinced + that the case of the Father of the Marshalsea was indeed a hopeless one, + and sorrowfully resigned the idea of helping him to freedom again. He had + no hopeful inquiry to make at present, concerning Little Dorrit either; + but he argued with himself that it might—for anything he knew—it + might be serviceable to the poor child, if he renewed this acquaintance. + It is hardly necessary to add that beyond all doubt he would have + presented himself at Mr Casby’s door, if there had been no Little Dorrit + in existence; for we all know how we all deceive ourselves—that is + to say, how people in general, our profounder selves excepted, deceive + themselves—as to motives of action. + </p> + <p> + With a comfortable impression upon him, and quite an honest one in its + way, that he was still patronising Little Dorrit in doing what had no + reference to her, he found himself one afternoon at the corner of Mr + Casby’s street. Mr Casby lived in a street in the Gray’s Inn Road, which + had set off from that thoroughfare with the intention of running at one + heat down into the valley, and up again to the top of Pentonville Hill; + but which had run itself out of breath in twenty yards, and had stood + still ever since. There is no such place in that part now; but it remained + there for many years, looking with a baulked countenance at the wilderness + patched with unfruitful gardens and pimpled with eruptive summerhouses, + that it had meant to run over in no time. + </p> + <p> + ‘The house,’ thought Clennam, as he crossed to the door, ‘is as little + changed as my mother’s, and looks almost as gloomy. But the likeness ends + outside. I know its staid repose within. The smell of its jars of old + rose-leaves and lavender seems to come upon me even here.’ + </p> + <p> + When his knock at the bright brass knocker of obsolete shape brought a + woman-servant to the door, those faded scents in truth saluted him like + wintry breath that had a faint remembrance in it of the bygone spring. He + stepped into the sober, silent, air-tight house—one might have + fancied it to have been stifled by Mutes in the Eastern manner—and + the door, closing again, seemed to shut out sound and motion. The + furniture was formal, grave, and quaker-like, but well-kept; and had as + prepossessing an aspect as anything, from a human creature to a wooden + stool, that is meant for much use and is preserved for little, can ever + wear. There was a grave clock, ticking somewhere up the staircase; and + there was a songless bird in the same direction, pecking at his cage, as + if he were ticking too. The parlour-fire ticked in the grate. There was + only one person on the parlour-hearth, and the loud watch in his pocket + ticked audibly. + </p> + <p> + The servant-maid had ticked the two words ‘Mr Clennam’ so softly that she + had not been heard; and he consequently stood, within the door she had + closed, unnoticed. The figure of a man advanced in life, whose smooth grey + eyebrows seemed to move to the ticking as the fire-light flickered on + them, sat in an arm-chair, with his list shoes on the rug, and his thumbs + slowly revolving over one another. This was old Christopher Casby—recognisable + at a glance—as unchanged in twenty years and upward as his own solid + furniture—as little touched by the influence of the varying seasons + as the old rose-leaves and old lavender in his porcelain jars. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps there never was a man, in this troublesome world, so troublesome + for the imagination to picture as a boy. And yet he had changed very + little in his progress through life. Confronting him, in the room in which + he sat, was a boy’s portrait, which anybody seeing him would have + identified as Master Christopher Casby, aged ten: though disguised with a + haymaking rake, for which he had had, at any time, as much taste or use as + for a diving-bell; and sitting (on one of his own legs) upon a bank of + violets, moved to precocious contemplation by the spire of a village + church. There was the same smooth face and forehead, the same calm blue + eye, the same placid air. The shining bald head, which looked so very + large because it shone so much; and the long grey hair at its sides and + back, like floss silk or spun glass, which looked so very benevolent + because it was never cut; were not, of course, to be seen in the boy as in + the old man. Nevertheless, in the Seraphic creature with the haymaking + rake, were clearly to be discerned the rudiments of the Patriarch with the + list shoes. + </p> + <p> + Patriarch was the name which many people delighted to give him. Various + old ladies in the neighbourhood spoke of him as The Last of the + Patriarchs. So grey, so slow, so quiet, so impassionate, so very bumpy in + the head, Patriarch was the word for him. He had been accosted in the + streets, and respectfully solicited to become a Patriarch for painters and + for sculptors; with so much importunity, in sooth, that it would appear to + be beyond the Fine Arts to remember the points of a Patriarch, or to + invent one. Philanthropists of both sexes had asked who he was, and on + being informed, ‘Old Christopher Casby, formerly Town-agent to Lord + Decimus Tite Barnacle,’ had cried in a rapture of disappointment, ‘Oh! + why, with that head, is he not a benefactor to his species! Oh! why, with + that head, is he not a father to the orphan and a friend to the + friendless!’ With that head, however, he remained old Christopher Casby, + proclaimed by common report rich in house property; and with that head, he + now sat in his silent parlour. Indeed it would be the height of unreason + to expect him to be sitting there without that head. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam moved to attract his attention, and the grey eyebrows + turned towards him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Clennam, ‘I fear you did not hear me announced?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, I did not. Did you wish to see me, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wished to pay my respects.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Casby seemed a feather’s weight disappointed by the last words, having + perhaps prepared himself for the visitor’s wishing to pay something else. + ‘Have I the pleasure, sir,’ he proceeded—‘take a chair, if you + please—have I the pleasure of knowing—? Ah! truly, yes, I + think I have! I believe I am not mistaken in supposing that I am + acquainted with those features? I think I address a gentleman of whose + return to this country I was informed by Mr Flintwinch?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is your present visitor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really! Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No other, Mr Casby.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, I am glad to see you. How have you been since we met?’ + </p> + <p> + Without thinking it worth while to explain that in the course of some + quarter of a century he had experienced occasional slight fluctuations in + his health and spirits, Clennam answered generally that he had never been + better, or something equally to the purpose; and shook hands with the + possessor of ‘that head’ as it shed its patriarchal light upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are older, Mr Clennam,’ said Christopher Casby. + </p> + <p> + ‘We are—not younger,’ said Clennam. After this wise remark he felt + that he was scarcely shining with brilliancy, and became aware that he was + nervous. + </p> + <p> + ‘And your respected father,’ said Mr Casby, ‘is no more! I was grieved to + hear it, Mr Clennam, I was grieved.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur replied in the usual way that he felt infinitely obliged to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘There was a time,’ said Mr Casby, ‘when your parents and myself were not + on friendly terms. There was a little family misunderstanding among us. + Your respected mother was rather jealous of her son, maybe; when I say her + son, I mean your worthy self, your worthy self.’ + </p> + <p> + His smooth face had a bloom upon it like ripe wall-fruit. What with his + blooming face, and that head, and his blue eyes, he seemed to be + delivering sentiments of rare wisdom and virtue. In like manner, his + physiognomical expression seemed to teem with benignity. Nobody could have + said where the wisdom was, or where the virtue was, or where the benignity + was; but they all seemed to be somewhere about him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Those times, however,’ pursued Mr Casby, ‘are past and gone, past and + gone. I do myself the pleasure of making a visit to your respected mother + occasionally, and of admiring the fortitude and strength of mind with + which she bears her trials, bears her trials.’ + </p> + <p> + When he made one of these little repetitions, sitting with his hands + crossed before him, he did it with his head on one side, and a gentle + smile, as if he had something in his thoughts too sweetly profound to be + put into words. As if he denied himself the pleasure of uttering it, lest + he should soar too high; and his meekness therefore preferred to be + unmeaning. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard that you were kind enough on one of those occasions,’ said + Arthur, catching at the opportunity as it drifted past him, ‘to mention + Little Dorrit to my mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little—? Dorrit? That’s the seamstress who was mentioned to me by a + small tenant of mine? Yes, yes. Dorrit? That’s the name. Ah, yes, yes! You + call her Little Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + No road in that direction. Nothing came of the cross-cut. It led no + further. + </p> + <p> + ‘My daughter Flora,’ said Mr Casby, ‘as you may have heard probably, Mr + Clennam, was married and established in life, several years ago. She had + the misfortune to lose her husband when she had been married a few months. + She resides with me again. She will be glad to see you, if you will permit + me to let her know that you are here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By all means,’ returned Clennam. ‘I should have preferred the request, if + your kindness had not anticipated me.’ + </p> + <p> + Upon this Mr Casby rose up in his list shoes, and with a slow, heavy step + (he was of an elephantine build), made for the door. He had a long + wide-skirted bottle-green coat on, and a bottle-green pair of trousers, + and a bottle-green waistcoat. The Patriarchs were not dressed in + bottle-green broadcloth, and yet his clothes looked patriarchal. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely left the room, and allowed the ticking to become audible + again, when a quick hand turned a latchkey in the house-door, opened it, + and shut it. Immediately afterwards, a quick and eager short dark man came + into the room with so much way upon him that he was within a foot of + Clennam before he could stop. + </p> + <p> + ‘Halloa!’ he said. + </p> + <p> + Clennam saw no reason why he should not say ‘Halloa!’ too. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter?’ said the short dark man. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not heard that anything is the matter,’ returned Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where’s Mr Casby?’ asked the short dark man, looking about. + </p> + <p> + ‘He will be here directly, if you want him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> want him?’ said the short dark man. ‘Don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + This elicited a word or two of explanation from Clennam, during the + delivery of which the short dark man held his breath and looked at him. He + was dressed in black and rusty iron grey; had jet black beads of eyes; a + scrubby little black chin; wiry black hair striking out from his head in + prongs, like forks or hair-pins; and a complexion that was very dingy by + nature, or very dirty by art, or a compound of nature and art. He had + dirty hands and dirty broken nails, and looked as if he had been in the + coals; he was in a perspiration, and snorted and sniffed and puffed and + blew, like a little labouring steam-engine. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said he, when Arthur told him how he came to be there. ‘Very well. + That’s right. If he should ask for Pancks, will you be so good as to say + that Pancks is come in?’ And so, with a snort and a puff, he worked out by + another door. + </p> + <p> + Now, in the old days at home, certain audacious doubts respecting the last + of the Patriarchs, which were afloat in the air, had, by some forgotten + means, come in contact with Arthur’s sensorium. He was aware of motes and + specks of suspicion in the atmosphere of that time; seen through which + medium, Christopher Casby was a mere Inn signpost, without any Inn—an + invitation to rest and be thankful, when there was no place to put up at, + and nothing whatever to be thankful for. He knew that some of these specks + even represented Christopher as capable of harbouring designs in ‘that + head,’ and as being a crafty impostor. Other motes there were which showed + him as a heavy, selfish, drifting Booby, who, having stumbled, in the + course of his unwieldy jostlings against other men, on the discovery that + to get through life with ease and credit, he had but to hold his tongue, + keep the bald part of his head well polished, and leave his hair alone, + had had just cunning enough to seize the idea and stick to it. It was said + that his being town-agent to Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle was referable, not + to his having the least business capacity, but to his looking so supremely + benignant that nobody could suppose the property screwed or jobbed under + such a man; also, that for similar reasons he now got more money out of + his own wretched lettings, unquestioned, than anybody with a less nobby + and less shining crown could possibly have done. In a word, it was + represented (Clennam called to mind, alone in the ticking parlour) that + many people select their models, much as the painters, just now mentioned, + select theirs; and that, whereas in the Royal Academy some evil old + ruffian of a Dog-stealer will annually be found embodying all the cardinal + virtues, on account of his eyelashes, or his chin, or his legs (thereby + planting thorns of confusion in the breasts of the more observant students + of nature), so, in the great social Exhibition, accessories are often + accepted in lieu of the internal character. + </p> + <p> + Calling these things to mind, and ranging Mr Pancks in a row with them, + Arthur Clennam leaned this day to the opinion, without quite deciding on + it, that the last of the Patriarchs was the drifting Booby aforesaid, with + the one idea of keeping the bald part of his head highly polished: and + that, much as an unwieldy ship in the Thames river may sometimes be seen + heavily driving with the tide, broadside on, stern first, in its own way + and in the way of everything else, though making a great show of + navigation, when all of a sudden, a little coaly steam-tug will bear down + upon it, take it in tow, and bustle off with it; similarly the cumbrous + Patriarch had been taken in tow by the snorting Pancks, and was now + following in the wake of that dingy little craft. + </p> + <p> + The return of Mr Casby with his daughter Flora, put an end to these + meditations. Clennam’s eyes no sooner fell upon the subject of his old + passion than it shivered and broke to pieces. + </p> + <p> + Most men will be found sufficiently true to themselves to be true to an + old idea. It is no proof of an inconstant mind, but exactly the opposite, + when the idea will not bear close comparison with the reality, and the + contrast is a fatal shock to it. Such was Clennam’s case. In his youth he + had ardently loved this woman, and had heaped upon her all the locked-up + wealth of his affection and imagination. That wealth had been, in his + desert home, like Robinson Crusoe’s money; exchangeable with no one, lying + idle in the dark to rust, until he poured it out for her. Ever since that + memorable time, though he had, until the night of his arrival, as + completely dismissed her from any association with his Present or Future + as if she had been dead (which she might easily have been for anything he + knew), he had kept the old fancy of the Past unchanged, in its old sacred + place. And now, after all, the last of the Patriarchs coolly walked into + the parlour, saying in effect, ‘Be good enough to throw it down and dance + upon it. This is Flora.’ + </p> + <p> + Flora, always tall, had grown to be very broad too, and short of breath; + but that was not much. Flora, whom he had left a lily, had become a peony; + but that was not much. Flora, who had seemed enchanting in all she said + and thought, was diffuse and silly. That was much. Flora, who had been + spoiled and artless long ago, was determined to be spoiled and artless + now. That was a fatal blow. + </p> + <p> + This is Flora! + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure,’ giggled Flora, tossing her head with a caricature of her + girlish manner, such as a mummer might have presented at her own funeral, + if she had lived and died in classical antiquity, ‘I am ashamed to see Mr + Clennam, I am a mere fright, I know he’ll find me fearfully changed, I am + actually an old woman, it’s shocking to be found out, it’s really + shocking!’ + </p> + <p> + He assured her that she was just what he had expected and that time had + not stood still with himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! But with a gentleman it’s so different and really you look so + amazingly well that you have no right to say anything of the kind, while, + as to me, you know—oh!’ cried Flora with a little scream, ‘I am + dreadful!’ + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch, apparently not yet understanding his own part in the drama + under representation, glowed with vacant serenity. + </p> + <p> + ‘But if we talk of not having changed,’ said Flora, who, whatever she + said, never once came to a full stop, ‘look at Papa, is not Papa precisely + what he was when you went away, isn’t it cruel and unnatural of Papa to be + such a reproach to his own child, if we go on in this way much longer + people who don’t know us will begin to suppose that I am Papa’s Mama!’ + </p> + <p> + That must be a long time hence, Arthur considered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh Mr Clennam you insincerest of creatures,’ said Flora, ‘I perceive + already you have not lost your old way of paying compliments, your old way + when you used to pretend to be so sentimentally struck you know—at + least I don’t mean that, I—oh I don’t know what I mean!’ Here Flora + tittered confusedly, and gave him one of her old glances. + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch, as if he now began to perceive that his part in the piece + was to get off the stage as soon as might be, rose, and went to the door + by which Pancks had worked out, hailing that Tug by name. He received an + answer from some little Dock beyond, and was towed out of sight directly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You mustn’t think of going yet,’ said Flora—Arthur had looked at + his hat, being in a ludicrous dismay, and not knowing what to do: ‘you + could never be so unkind as to think of going, Arthur—I mean Mr + Arthur—or I suppose Mr Clennam would be far more proper—but I + am sure I don’t know what I am saying—without a word about the dear + old days gone for ever, when I come to think of it I dare say it would be + much better not to speak of them and it’s highly probable that you have + some much more agreeable engagement and pray let Me be the last person in + the world to interfere with it though there <i>was</i> a time, but I am + running into nonsense again.’ + </p> + <p> + Was it possible that Flora could have been such a chatterer in the days + she referred to? Could there have been anything like her present + disjointed volubility in the fascinations that had captivated him? + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I have little doubt,’ said Flora, running on with astonishing + speed, and pointing her conversation with nothing but commas, and very few + of them, ‘that you are married to some Chinese lady, being in China so + long and being in business and naturally desirous to settle and extend + your connection nothing was more likely than that you should propose to a + Chinese lady and nothing was more natural I am sure than that the Chinese + lady should accept you and think herself very well off too, I only hope + she’s not a Pagodian dissenter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not,’ returned Arthur, smiling in spite of himself, ‘married to any + lady, Flora.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh good gracious me I hope you never kept yourself a bachelor so long on + my account!’ tittered Flora; ‘but of course you never did why should you, + pray don’t answer, I don’t know where I’m running to, oh do tell me + something about the Chinese ladies whether their eyes are really so long + and narrow always putting me in mind of mother-of-pearl fish at cards and + do they really wear tails down their back and plaited too or is it only + the men, and when they pull their hair so very tight off their foreheads + don’t they hurt themselves, and why do they stick little bells all over + their bridges and temples and hats and things or don’t they really do it?’ + Flora gave him another of her old glances. Instantly she went on again, as + if he had spoken in reply for some time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it’s all true and they really do! good gracious Arthur!—pray + excuse me—old habit—Mr Clennam far more proper—what a + country to live in for so long a time, and with so many lanterns and + umbrellas too how very dark and wet the climate ought to be and no doubt + actually is, and the sums of money that must be made by those two trades + where everybody carries them and hangs them everywhere, the little shoes + too and the feet screwed back in infancy is quite surprising, what a + traveller you are!’ + </p> + <p> + In his ridiculous distress, Clennam received another of the old glances + without in the least knowing what to do with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear dear,’ said Flora, ‘only to think of the changes at home Arthur—cannot + overcome it, and seems so natural, Mr Clennam far more proper—since + you became familiar with the Chinese customs and language which I am + persuaded you speak like a Native if not better for you were always quick + and clever though immensely difficult no doubt, I am sure the tea chests + alone would kill me if I tried, such changes Arthur—I am doing it + again, seems so natural, most improper—as no one could have + believed, who could have ever imagined Mrs Finching when I can’t imagine + it myself!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that your married name?’ asked Arthur, struck, in the midst of all + this, by a certain warmth of heart that expressed itself in her tone when + she referred, however oddly, to the youthful relation in which they had + stood to one another. ‘Finching?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Finching oh yes isn’t it a dreadful name, but as Mr F. said when he + proposed to me which he did seven times and handsomely consented I must + say to be what he used to call on liking twelve months, after all, he + wasn’t answerable for it and couldn’t help it could he, Excellent man, not + at all like you but excellent man!’ + </p> + <p> + Flora had at last talked herself out of breath for one moment. One moment; + for she recovered breath in the act of raising a minute corner of her + pocket-handkerchief to her eye, as a tribute to the ghost of the departed + Mr F., and began again. + </p> + <p> + ‘No one could dispute, Arthur—Mr Clennam—that it’s quite right + you should be formally friendly to me under the altered circumstances and + indeed you couldn’t be anything else, at least I suppose not you ought to + know, but I can’t help recalling that there <i>was</i> a time when things + were very different.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mrs Finching,’ Arthur began, struck by the good tone again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh not that nasty ugly name, say Flora!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flora. I assure you, Flora, I am happy in seeing you once more, and in + finding that, like me, you have not forgotten the old foolish dreams, when + we saw all before us in the light of our youth and hope.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t seem so,’ pouted Flora, ‘you take it very coolly, but however I + know you are disappointed in me, I suppose the Chinese ladies—Mandarinesses + if you call them so—are the cause or perhaps I am the cause myself, + it’s just as likely.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ Clennam entreated, ‘don’t say that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh I must you know,’ said Flora, in a positive tone, ‘what nonsense not + to, I know I am not what you expected, I know that very well.’ + </p> + <p> + In the midst of her rapidity, she had found that out with the quick + perception of a cleverer woman. The inconsistent and profoundly + unreasonable way in which she instantly went on, nevertheless, to + interweave their long-abandoned boy and girl relations with their present + interview, made Clennam feel as if he were light-headed. + </p> + <p> + ‘One remark,’ said Flora, giving their conversation, without the slightest + notice and to the great terror of Clennam, the tone of a love-quarrel, ‘I + wish to make, one explanation I wish to offer, when your Mama came and + made a scene of it with my Papa and when I was called down into the little + breakfast-room where they were looking at one another with your Mama’s + parasol between them seated on two chairs like mad bulls what was I to + do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mrs Finching,’ urged Clennam—‘all so long ago and so long + concluded, is it worth while seriously to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t Arthur,’ returned Flora, ‘be denounced as heartless by the whole + society of China without setting myself right when I have the opportunity + of doing so, and you must be very well aware that there was Paul and + Virginia which had to be returned and which was returned without note or + comment, not that I mean to say you could have written to me watched as I + was but if it had only come back with a red wafer on the cover I should + have known that it meant Come to Pekin Nankeen and What’s the third place, + barefoot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mrs Finching, you were not to blame, and I never blamed you. We + were both too young, too dependent and helpless, to do anything but accept + our separation.—Pray think how long ago,’ gently remonstrated + Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘One more remark,’ proceeded Flora with unslackened volubility, ‘I wish to + make, one more explanation I wish to offer, for five days I had a cold in + the head from crying which I passed entirely in the back drawing-room—there + is the back drawing-room still on the first floor and still at the back of + the house to confirm my words—when that dreary period had passed a + lull succeeded years rolled on and Mr F. became acquainted with us at a + mutual friend’s, he was all attention he called next day he soon began to + call three evenings a week and to send in little things for supper it was + not love on Mr F.‘s part it was adoration, Mr F. proposed with the full + approval of Papa and what could I do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing whatever,’ said Arthur, with the cheerfulest readiness, ‘but what + you did. Let an old friend assure you of his full conviction that you did + quite right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One last remark,’ proceeded Flora, rejecting commonplace life with a wave + of her hand, ‘I wish to make, one last explanation I wish to offer, there + <i>was</i> a time ere Mr F. first paid attentions incapable of being + mistaken, but that is past and was not to be, dear Mr Clennam you no + longer wear a golden chain you are free I trust you may be happy, here is + Papa who is always tiresome and putting in his nose everywhere where he is + not wanted.’ + </p> + <p> + With these words, and with a hasty gesture fraught with timid caution—such + a gesture had Clennam’s eyes been familiar with in the old time—poor + Flora left herself at eighteen years of age, a long long way behind again; + and came to a full stop at last. + </p> + <p> + Or rather, she left about half of herself at eighteen years of age behind, + and grafted the rest on to the relict of the late Mr F.; thus making a + moral mermaid of herself, which her once boy-lover contemplated with + feelings wherein his sense of the sorrowful and his sense of the comical + were curiously blended. + </p> + <p> + For example. As if there were a secret understanding between herself and + Clennam of the most thrilling nature; as if the first of a train of + post-chaises and four, extending all the way to Scotland, were at that + moment round the corner; and as if she couldn’t (and wouldn’t) have walked + into the Parish Church with him, under the shade of the family umbrella, + with the Patriarchal blessing on her head, and the perfect concurrence of + all mankind; Flora comforted her soul with agonies of mysterious + signalling, expressing dread of discovery. With the sensation of becoming + more and more light-headed every minute, Clennam saw the relict of the + late Mr F. enjoying herself in the most wonderful manner, by putting + herself and him in their old places, and going through all the old + performances—now, when the stage was dusty, when the scenery was + faded, when the youthful actors were dead, when the orchestra was empty, + when the lights were out. And still, through all this grotesque revival of + what he remembered as having once been prettily natural to her, he could + not but feel that it revived at sight of him, and that there was a tender + memory in it. + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch insisted on his staying to dinner, and Flora signalled + ‘Yes!’ Clennam so wished he could have done more than stay to dinner—so + heartily wished he could have found the Flora that had been, or that never + had been—that he thought the least atonement he could make for the + disappointment he almost felt ashamed of, was to give himself up to the + family desire. Therefore, he stayed to dinner. + </p> + <p> + Pancks dined with them. Pancks steamed out of his little dock at a quarter + before six, and bore straight down for the Patriarch, who happened to be + then driving, in an inane manner, through a stagnant account of Bleeding + Heart Yard. Pancks instantly made fast to him and hauled him out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bleeding Heart Yard?’ said Pancks, with a puff and a snort. ‘It’s a + troublesome property. Don’t pay you badly, but rents are very hard to get + there. You have more trouble with that one place than with all the places + belonging to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Just as the big ship in tow gets the credit, with most spectators, of + being the powerful object, so the Patriarch usually seemed to have said + himself whatever Pancks said for him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ returned Clennam, upon whom this impression was so efficiently + made by a mere gleam of the polished head that he spoke the ship instead + of the Tug. ‘The people are so poor there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>You</i> can’t say, you know,’ snorted Pancks, taking one of his dirty + hands out of his rusty iron-grey pockets to bite his nails, if he could + find any, and turning his beads of eyes upon his employer, ‘whether + they’re poor or not. They say they are, but they all say that. When a man + says he’s rich, you’re generally sure he isn’t. Besides, if they <i>are</i> + poor, you can’t help it. You’d be poor yourself if you didn’t get your + rents.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True enough,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’re not going to keep open house for all the poor of London,’ pursued + Pancks. ‘You’re not going to lodge ‘em for nothing. You’re not going to + open your gates wide and let ‘em come free. Not if you know it, you + ain’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Casby shook his head, in Placid and benignant generality. + </p> + <p> + ‘If a man takes a room of you at half-a-crown a week, and when the week + comes round hasn’t got the half-crown, you say to that man, Why have you + got the room, then? If you haven’t got the one thing, why have you got the + other? What have you been and done with your money? What do you mean by + it? What are you up to? That’s what <i>you</i> say to a man of that sort; + and if you didn’t say it, more shame for you!’ Mr Pancks here made a + singular and startling noise, produced by a strong blowing effort in the + region of the nose, unattended by any result but that acoustic one. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have some extent of such property about the east and north-east here, + I believe?’ said Clennam, doubtful which of the two to address. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, pretty well,’ said Pancks. ‘You’re not particular to east or + north-east, any point of the compass will do for you. What you want is a + good investment and a quick return. You take it where you can find it. You + ain’t nice as to situation—not you.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a fourth and most original figure in the Patriarchal tent, who + also appeared before dinner. This was an amazing little old woman, with a + face like a staring wooden doll too cheap for expression, and a stiff + yellow wig perched unevenly on the top of her head, as if the child who + owned the doll had driven a tack through it anywhere, so that it only got + fastened on. Another remarkable thing in this little old woman was, that + the same child seemed to have damaged her face in two or three places with + some blunt instrument in the nature of a spoon; her countenance, and + particularly the tip of her nose, presenting the phenomena of several + dints, generally answering to the bowl of that article. A further + remarkable thing in this little old woman was, that she had no name but Mr + F.‘s Aunt. + </p> + <p> + She broke upon the visitor’s view under the following circumstances: Flora + said when the first dish was being put on the table, perhaps Mr Clennam + might not have heard that Mr F. had left her a legacy? Clennam in return + implied his hope that Mr F. had endowed the wife whom he adored, with the + greater part of his worldly substance, if not with all. Flora said, oh + yes, she didn’t mean that, Mr F. had made a beautiful will, but he had + left her as a separate legacy, his Aunt. She then went out of the room to + fetch the legacy, and, on her return, rather triumphantly presented ‘Mr + F.‘s Aunt.’ + </p> + <p> + The major characteristics discoverable by the stranger in Mr F.‘s Aunt, + were extreme severity and grim taciturnity; sometimes interrupted by a + propensity to offer remarks in a deep warning voice, which, being totally + uncalled for by anything said by anybody, and traceable to no association + of ideas, confounded and terrified the Mind. Mr F.‘s Aunt may have thrown + in these observations on some system of her own, and it may have been + ingenious, or even subtle: but the key to it was wanted. + </p> + <p> + The neatly-served and well-cooked dinner (for everything about the + Patriarchal household promoted quiet digestion) began with some soup, some + fried soles, a butter-boat of shrimp sauce, and a dish of potatoes. The + conversation still turned on the receipt of rents. Mr F.‘s Aunt, after + regarding the company for ten minutes with a malevolent gaze, delivered + the following fearful remark: + </p> + <p> + ‘When we lived at Henley, Barnes’s gander was stole by tinkers.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks courageously nodded his head and said, ‘All right, ma’am.’ But + the effect of this mysterious communication upon Clennam was absolutely to + frighten him. And another circumstance invested this old lady with + peculiar terrors. Though she was always staring, she never acknowledged + that she saw any individual. The polite and attentive stranger would + desire, say, to consult her inclinations on the subject of potatoes. His + expressive action would be hopelessly lost upon her, and what could he do? + No man could say, ‘Mr F.‘s Aunt, will you permit me?’ Every man retired + from the spoon, as Clennam did, cowed and baffled. + </p> + <p> + There was mutton, a steak, and an apple-pie—nothing in the remotest + way connected with ganders—and the dinner went on like a + disenchanted feast, as it truly was. Once upon a time Clennam had sat at + that table taking no heed of anything but Flora; now the principal heed he + took of Flora was to observe, against his will, that she was very fond of + porter, that she combined a great deal of sherry with sentiment, and that + if she were a little overgrown, it was upon substantial grounds. The last + of the Patriarchs had always been a mighty eater, and he disposed of an + immense quantity of solid food with the benignity of a good soul who was + feeding some one else. Mr Pancks, who was always in a hurry, and who + referred at intervals to a little dirty notebook which he kept beside him + (perhaps containing the names of the defaulters he meant to look up by way + of dessert), took in his victuals much as if he were coaling; with a good + deal of noise, a good deal of dropping about, and a puff and a snort + occasionally, as if he were nearly ready to steam away. + </p> + <p> + All through dinner, Flora combined her present appetite for eating and + drinking with her past appetite for romantic love, in a way that made + Clennam afraid to lift his eyes from his plate; since he could not look + towards her without receiving some glance of mysterious meaning or + warning, as if they were engaged in a plot. Mr F.‘s Aunt sat silently + defying him with an aspect of the greatest bitterness, until the removal + of the cloth and the appearance of the decanters, when she originated + another observation—struck into the conversation like a clock, + without consulting anybody. + </p> + <p> + Flora had just said, ‘Mr Clennam, will you give me a glass of port for Mr + F.‘s Aunt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Monument near London Bridge,’ that lady instantly proclaimed, ‘was + put up arter the Great Fire of London; and the Great Fire of London was + not the fire in which your uncle George’s workshops was burned down.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks, with his former courage, said, ‘Indeed, ma’am? All right!’ But + appearing to be incensed by imaginary contradiction, or other ill-usage, + Mr F.‘s Aunt, instead of relapsing into silence, made the following + additional proclamation: + </p> + <p> + ‘I hate a fool!’ + </p> + <p> + She imparted to this sentiment, in itself almost Solomonic, so extremely + injurious and personal a character by levelling it straight at the + visitor’s head, that it became necessary to lead Mr F.‘s Aunt from the + room. This was quietly done by Flora; Mr F.‘s Aunt offering no resistance, + but inquiring on her way out, ‘What he come there for, then?’ with + implacable animosity. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0151m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0151m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0151.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + When Flora returned, she explained that her legacy was a clever old lady, + but was sometimes a little singular, and ‘took dislikes’—peculiarities + of which Flora seemed to be proud rather than otherwise. As Flora’s good + nature shone in the case, Clennam had no fault to find with the old lady + for eliciting it, now that he was relieved from the terrors of her + presence; and they took a glass or two of wine in peace. Foreseeing then + that the Pancks would shortly get under weigh, and that the Patriarch + would go to sleep, he pleaded the necessity of visiting his mother, and + asked Mr Pancks in which direction he was going? + </p> + <p> + ‘Citywards, sir,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall we walk together?’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite agreeable,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Flora was murmuring in rapid snatches for his ear, that there + was a time and that the past was a yawning gulf however and that a golden + chain no longer bound him and that she revered the memory of the late Mr + F. and that she should be at home to-morrow at half-past one and that the + decrees of Fate were beyond recall and that she considered nothing so + improbable as that he ever walked on the north-west side of Gray’s-Inn + Gardens at exactly four o’clock in the afternoon. He tried at parting to + give his hand in frankness to the existing Flora—not the vanished + Flora, or the mermaid—but Flora wouldn’t have it, couldn’t have it, + was wholly destitute of the power of separating herself and him from their + bygone characters. He left the house miserably enough; and so much more + light-headed than ever, that if it had not been his good fortune to be + towed away, he might, for the first quarter of an hour, have drifted + anywhere. + </p> + <p> + When he began to come to himself, in the cooler air and the absence of + Flora, he found Pancks at full speed, cropping such scanty pasturage of + nails as he could find, and snorting at intervals. These, in conjunction + with one hand in his pocket and his roughened hat hind side before, were + evidently the conditions under which he reflected. + </p> + <p> + ‘A fresh night!’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it’s pretty fresh,’ assented Pancks. ‘As a stranger you feel the + climate more than I do, I dare say. Indeed I haven’t got time to feel it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You lead such a busy life?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I have always some of ‘em to look up, or something to look after. + But I like business,’ said Pancks, getting on a little faster. ‘What’s a + man made for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For nothing else?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + Pancks put the counter question, ‘What else?’ It packed up, in the + smallest compass, a weight that had rested on Clennam’s life; and he made + no answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s what I ask our weekly tenants,’ said Pancks. ‘Some of ‘em will + pull long faces to me, and say, Poor as you see us, master, we’re always + grinding, drudging, toiling, every minute we’re awake. I say to them, What + else are you made for? It shuts them up. They haven’t a word to answer. + What else are you made for? That clinches it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah dear, dear, dear!’ sighed Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here am I,’ said Pancks, pursuing his argument with the weekly tenant. + ‘What else do you suppose I think I am made for? Nothing. Rattle me out of + bed early, set me going, give me as short a time as you like to bolt my + meals in, and keep me at it. Keep me always at it, and I’ll keep you + always at it, you keep somebody else always at it. There you are with the + Whole Duty of Man in a commercial country.’ + </p> + <p> + When they had walked a little further in silence, Clennam said: ‘Have you + no taste for anything, Mr Pancks?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s taste?’ drily retorted Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us say inclination.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have an inclination to get money, sir,’ said Pancks, ‘if you will show + me how.’ He blew off that sound again, and it occurred to his companion + for the first time that it was his way of laughing. He was a singular man + in all respects; he might not have been quite in earnest, but that the + short, hard, rapid manner in which he shot out these cinders of + principles, as if it were done by mechanical revolvency, seemed + irreconcilable with banter. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are no great reader, I suppose?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never read anything but letters and accounts. Never collect anything but + advertisements relative to next of kin. If <i>that’s</i> a taste, I have + got that. You’re not of the Clennams of Cornwall, Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not that I ever heard of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you’re not. I asked your mother, sir. She has too much character + to let a chance escape her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Supposing I had been of the Clennams of Cornwall?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’d have heard of something to your advantage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed! I have heard of little enough to my advantage for some time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a Cornish property going a begging, sir, and not a Cornish + Clennam to have it for the asking,’ said Pancks, taking his note-book from + his breast pocket and putting it in again. ‘I turn off here. I wish you + good night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night!’ said Clennam. But the Tug, suddenly lightened, and + untrammelled by having any weight in tow, was already puffing away into + the distance. + </p> + <p> + They had crossed Smithfield together, and Clennam was left alone at the + corner of Barbican. He had no intention of presenting himself in his + mother’s dismal room that night, and could not have felt more depressed + and cast away if he had been in a wilderness. He turned slowly down + Aldersgate Street, and was pondering his way along towards Saint Paul’s, + purposing to come into one of the great thoroughfares for the sake of + their light and life, when a crowd of people flocked towards him on the + same pavement, and he stood aside against a shop to let them pass. As they + came up, he made out that they were gathered around a something that was + carried on men’s shoulders. He soon saw that it was a litter, hastily made + of a shutter or some such thing; and a recumbent figure upon it, and the + scraps of conversation in the crowd, and a muddy bundle carried by one + man, and a muddy hat carried by another, informed him that an accident had + occurred. The litter stopped under a lamp before it had passed him + half-a-dozen paces, for some readjustment of the burden; and, the crowd + stopping too, he found himself in the midst of the array. + </p> + <p> + ‘An accident going to the Hospital?’ he asked an old man beside him, who + stood shaking his head, inviting conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the man, ‘along of them Mails. They ought to be prosecuted and + fined, them Mails. They come a racing out of Lad Lane and Wood Street at + twelve or fourteen mile a hour, them Mails do. The only wonder is, that + people ain’t killed oftener by them Mails.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This person is not killed, I hope?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know!’ said the man, ‘it an’t for the want of a will in them + Mails, if he an’t.’ The speaker having folded his arms, and set in + comfortably to address his depreciation of them Mails to any of the + bystanders who would listen, several voices, out of pure sympathy with the + sufferer, confirmed him; one voice saying to Clennam, ‘They’re a public + nuisance, them Mails, sir;’ another, ‘<i>I</i> see one on ‘em pull up + within half a inch of a boy, last night;’ another, ‘<i>I</i> see one on + ‘em go over a cat, sir—and it might have been your own mother;’ and + all representing, by implication, that if he happened to possess any + public influence, he could not use it better than against them Mails. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, a native Englishman is put to it every night of his life, to save + his life from them Mails,’ argued the first old man; ‘and <i>he</i> knows + when they’re a coming round the corner, to tear him limb from limb. What + can you expect from a poor foreigner who don’t know nothing about ‘em!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is this a foreigner?’ said Clennam, leaning forward to look. + </p> + <p> + In the midst of such replies as ‘Frenchman, sir,’ ‘Porteghee, sir,’ + ‘Dutchman, sir,’ ‘Prooshan, sir,’ and other conflicting testimony, he now + heard a feeble voice asking, both in Italian and in French, for water. A + general remark going round, in reply, of ‘Ah, poor fellow, he says he’ll + never get over it; and no wonder!’ Clennam begged to be allowed to pass, + as he understood the poor creature. He was immediately handed to the + front, to speak to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘First, he wants some water,’ said he, looking round. (A dozen good + fellows dispersed to get it.) ‘Are you badly hurt, my friend?’ he asked + the man on the litter, in Italian. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir; yes, yes, yes. It’s my leg, it’s my leg. But it pleases me to + hear the old music, though I am very bad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a traveller! Stay! See, the water! Let me give you some.’ + </p> + <p> + They had rested the litter on a pile of paving stones. It was at a + convenient height from the ground, and by stooping he could lightly raise + the head with one hand and hold the glass to his lips with the other. A + little, muscular, brown man, with black hair and white teeth. A lively + face, apparently. Earrings in his ears. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s well. You are a traveller?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A stranger in this city?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, surely, altogether. I am arrived this unhappy evening.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘From what country?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Marseilles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, see there! I also! Almost as much a stranger here as you, though + born here, I came from Marseilles a little while ago. Don’t be cast down.’ + The face looked up at him imploringly, as he rose from wiping it, and + gently replaced the coat that covered the writhing figure. ‘I won’t leave + you till you shall be well taken care of. Courage! You will be very much + better half an hour hence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Altro, Altro!’ cried the poor little man, in a faintly incredulous + tone; and as they took him up, hung out his right hand to give the + forefinger a back-handed shake in the air. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam turned; and walking beside the litter, and saying an + encouraging word now and then, accompanied it to the neighbouring hospital + of Saint Bartholomew. None of the crowd but the bearers and he being + admitted, the disabled man was soon laid on a table in a cool, methodical + way, and carefully examined by a surgeon who was as near at hand, and as + ready to appear as Calamity herself. ‘He hardly knows an English word,’ + said Clennam; ‘is he badly hurt?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us know all about it first,’ said the surgeon, continuing his + examination with a businesslike delight in it, ‘before we pronounce.’ + </p> + <p> + After trying the leg with a finger, and two fingers, and one hand and two + hands, and over and under, and up and down, and in this direction and in + that, and approvingly remarking on the points of interest to another + gentleman who joined him, the surgeon at last clapped the patient on the + shoulder, and said, ‘He won’t hurt. He’ll do very well. It’s difficult + enough, but we shall not want him to part with his leg this time.’ Which + Clennam interpreted to the patient, who was full of gratitude, and, in his + demonstrative way, kissed both the interpreter’s hand and the surgeon’s + several times. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a serious injury, I suppose?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye-es,’ replied the surgeon, with the thoughtful pleasure of an artist + contemplating the work upon his easel. ‘Yes, it’s enough. There’s a + compound fracture above the knee, and a dislocation below. They are both + of a beautiful kind.’ He gave the patient a friendly clap on the shoulder + again, as if he really felt that he was a very good fellow indeed, and + worthy of all commendation for having broken his leg in a manner + interesting to science. + </p> + <p> + ‘He speaks French?’ said the surgeon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, he speaks French.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’ll be at no loss here, then.—You have only to bear a little pain + like a brave fellow, my friend, and to be thankful that all goes as well + as it does,’ he added, in that tongue, ‘and you’ll walk again to a marvel. + Now, let us see whether there’s anything else the matter, and how our ribs + are?’ + </p> + <p> + There was nothing else the matter, and our ribs were sound. Clennam + remained until everything possible to be done had been skilfully and + promptly done—the poor belated wanderer in a strange land movingly + besought that favour of him—and lingered by the bed to which he was + in due time removed, until he had fallen into a doze. Even then he wrote a + few words for him on his card, with a promise to return to-morrow, and + left it to be given to him when he should awake. + </p> + <p> + All these proceedings occupied so long that it struck eleven o’clock at + night as he came out at the Hospital Gate. He had hired a lodging for the + present in Covent Garden, and he took the nearest way to that quarter, by + Snow Hill and Holborn. + </p> + <p> + Left to himself again, after the solicitude and compassion of his last + adventure, he was naturally in a thoughtful mood. As naturally, he could + not walk on thinking for ten minutes without recalling Flora. She + necessarily recalled to him his life, with all its misdirection and little + happiness. + </p> + <p> + When he got to his lodging, he sat down before the dying fire, as he had + stood at the window of his old room looking out upon the blackened forest + of chimneys, and turned his gaze back upon the gloomy vista by which he + had come to that stage in his existence. So long, so bare, so blank. No + childhood; no youth, except for one remembrance; that one remembrance + proved, only that day, to be a piece of folly. + </p> + <p> + It was a misfortune to him, trifle as it might have been to another. For, + while all that was hard and stern in his recollection, remained Reality on + being proved—was obdurate to the sight and touch, and relaxed + nothing of its old indomitable grimness—the one tender recollection + of his experience would not bear the same test, and melted away. He had + foreseen this, on the former night, when he had dreamed with waking eyes, + but he had not felt it then; and he had now. + </p> + <p> + He was a dreamer in such wise, because he was a man who had, deep-rooted + in his nature, a belief in all the gentle and good things his life had + been without. Bred in meanness and hard dealing, this had rescued him to + be a man of honourable mind and open hand. Bred in coldness and severity, + this had rescued him to have a warm and sympathetic heart. Bred in a creed + too darkly audacious to pursue, through its process of reserving the + making of man in the image of his Creator to the making of his Creator in + the image of an erring man, this had rescued him to judge not, and in + humility to be merciful, and have hope and charity. + </p> + <p> + And this saved him still from the whimpering weakness and cruel + selfishness of holding that because such a happiness or such a virtue had + not come into his little path, or worked well for him, therefore it was + not in the great scheme, but was reducible, when found in appearance, to + the basest elements. A disappointed mind he had, but a mind too firm and + healthy for such unwholesome air. Leaving himself in the dark, it could + rise into the light, seeing it shine on others and hailing it. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, he sat before his dying fire, sorrowful to think upon the way + by which he had come to that night, yet not strewing poison on the way by + which other men had come to it. That he should have missed so much, and at + his time of life should look so far about him for any staff to bear him + company upon his downward journey and cheer it, was a just regret. He + looked at the fire from which the blaze departed, from which the afterglow + subsided, in which the ashes turned grey, from which they dropped to dust, + and thought, ‘How soon I too shall pass through such changes, and be + gone!’ + </p> + <p> + To review his life was like descending a green tree in fruit and flower, + and seeing all the branches wither and drop off, one by one, as he came + down towards them. + </p> + <p> + ‘From the unhappy suppression of my youngest days, through the rigid and + unloving home that followed them, through my departure, my long exile, my + return, my mother’s welcome, my intercourse with her since, down to the + afternoon of this day with poor Flora,’ said Arthur Clennam, ‘what have I + found!’ + </p> + <p> + His door was softly opened, and these spoken words startled him, and came + as if they were an answer: + </p> + <p> + ‘Little Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0014"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 14. Little Dorrit’s Party + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>rthur Clennam rose hastily, and saw her standing at the door. This + history must sometimes see with Little Dorrit’s eyes, and shall begin that + course by seeing him. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit looked into a dim room, which seemed a spacious one to her, + and grandly furnished. Courtly ideas of Covent Garden, as a place with + famous coffee-houses, where gentlemen wearing gold-laced coats and swords + had quarrelled and fought duels; costly ideas of Covent Garden, as a place + where there were flowers in winter at guineas a-piece, pine-apples at + guineas a pound, and peas at guineas a pint; picturesque ideas of Covent + Garden, as a place where there was a mighty theatre, showing wonderful and + beautiful sights to richly-dressed ladies and gentlemen, and which was for + ever far beyond the reach of poor Fanny or poor uncle; desolate ideas of + Covent Garden, as having all those arches in it, where the miserable + children in rags among whom she had just now passed, like young rats, + slunk and hid, fed on offal, huddled together for warmth, and were hunted + about (look to the rats young and old, all ye Barnacles, for before God + they are eating away our foundations, and will bring the roofs on our + heads!); teeming ideas of Covent Garden, as a place of past and present + mystery, romance, abundance, want, beauty, ugliness, fair country gardens, + and foul street gutters; all confused together,—made the room dimmer + than it was in Little Dorrit’s eyes, as they timidly saw it from the door. + </p> + <p> + At first in the chair before the gone-out fire, and then turned round + wondering to see her, was the gentleman whom she sought. The brown, grave + gentleman, who smiled so pleasantly, who was so frank and considerate in + his manner, and yet in whose earnestness there was something that reminded + her of his mother, with the great difference that she was earnest in + asperity and he in gentleness. Now he regarded her with that attentive and + inquiring look before which Little Dorrit’s eyes had always fallen, and + before which they fell still. + </p> + <p> + ‘My poor child! Here at midnight?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I said Little Dorrit, sir, on purpose to prepare you. I knew you must be + very much surprised.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you alone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No sir, I have got Maggy with me.’ + </p> + <p> + Considering her entrance sufficiently prepared for by this mention of her + name, Maggy appeared from the landing outside, on the broad grin. She + instantly suppressed that manifestation, however, and became fixedly + solemn. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I have no fire,’ said Clennam. ‘And you are—’ He was going to + say so lightly clad, but stopped himself in what would have been a + reference to her poverty, saying instead, ‘And it is so cold.’ + </p> + <p> + Putting the chair from which he had risen nearer to the grate, he made her + sit down in it; and hurriedly bringing wood and coal, heaped them together + and got a blaze. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your foot is like marble, my child;’ he had happened to touch it, while + stooping on one knee at his work of kindling the fire; ‘put it nearer the + warmth.’ Little Dorrit thanked him hastily. It was quite warm, it was very + warm! It smote upon his heart to feel that she hid her thin, worn shoe. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was not ashamed of her poor shoes. He knew her story, and it + was not that. Little Dorrit had a misgiving that he might blame her + father, if he saw them; that he might think, ‘why did he dine to-day, and + leave this little creature to the mercy of the cold stones!’ She had no + belief that it would have been a just reflection; she simply knew, by + experience, that such delusions did sometimes present themselves to + people. It was a part of her father’s misfortunes that they did. + </p> + <p> + ‘Before I say anything else,’ Little Dorrit began, sitting before the pale + fire, and raising her eyes again to the face which in its harmonious look + of interest, and pity, and protection, she felt to be a mystery far above + her in degree, and almost removed beyond her guessing at; ‘may I tell you + something, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, my child.’ + </p> + <p> + A slight shade of distress fell upon her, at his so often calling her a + child. She was surprised that he should see it, or think of such a slight + thing; but he said directly: + </p> + <p> + ‘I wanted a tender word, and could think of no other. As you just now gave + yourself the name they give you at my mother’s, and as that is the name by + which I always think of you, let me call you Little Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir, I should like it better than any name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little mother,’ Maggy (who had been falling asleep) put in, as a + correction. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all the same, Maggy,’ returned Little Dorrit, ‘all the same.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it all the same, mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just the same.’ + </p> + <p> + Maggy laughed, and immediately snored. In Little Dorrit’s eyes and ears, + the uncouth figure and the uncouth sound were as pleasant as could be. + There was a glow of pride in her big child, overspreading her face, when + it again met the eyes of the grave brown gentleman. She wondered what he + was thinking of, as he looked at Maggy and her. She thought what a good + father he would be. How, with some such look, he would counsel and cherish + his daughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘What I was going to tell you, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘is, that my + brother is at large.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur was rejoiced to hear it, and hoped he would do well. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what I was going to tell you, sir,’ said Little Dorrit, trembling in + all her little figure and in her voice, ‘is, that I am not to know whose + generosity released him—am never to ask, and am never to be told, + and am never to thank that gentleman with all my grateful heart!’ + </p> + <p> + He would probably need no thanks, Clennam said. Very likely he would be + thankful himself (and with reason), that he had had the means and chance + of doing a little service to her, who well deserved a great one. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what I was going to say, sir, is,’ said Little Dorrit, trembling more + and more, ‘that if I knew him, and I might, I would tell him that he can + never, never know how I feel his goodness, and how my good father would + feel it. And what I was going to say, sir, is, that if I knew him, and I + might—but I don’t know him and I must not—I know that!—I + would tell him that I shall never any more lie down to sleep without + having prayed to Heaven to bless him and reward him. And if I knew him, + and I might, I would go down on my knees to him, and take his hand and + kiss it and ask him not to draw it away, but to leave it—O to leave + it for a moment—and let my thankful tears fall on it; for I have no + other thanks to give him!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit had put his hand to her lips, and would have kneeled to him, + but he gently prevented her, and replaced her in her chair. Her eyes, and + the tones of her voice, had thanked him far better than she thought. He + was not able to say, quite as composedly as usual, ‘There, Little Dorrit, + there, there, there! We will suppose that you did know this person, and + that you might do all this, and that it was all done. And now tell me, Who + am quite another person—who am nothing more than the friend who + begged you to trust him—why you are out at midnight, and what it is + that brings you so far through the streets at this late hour, my slight, + delicate,’ child was on his lips again, ‘Little Dorrit!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maggy and I have been to-night,’ she answered, subduing herself with the + quiet effort that had long been natural to her, ‘to the theatre where my + sister is engaged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And oh ain’t it a Ev’nly place,’ suddenly interrupted Maggy, who seemed + to have the power of going to sleep and waking up whenever she chose. + ‘Almost as good as a hospital. Only there ain’t no Chicking in it.’ + </p> + <p> + Here she shook herself, and fell asleep again. + </p> + <p> + ‘We went there,’ said Little Dorrit, glancing at her charge, ‘because I + like sometimes to know, of my own knowledge, that my sister is doing well; + and like to see her there, with my own eyes, when neither she nor Uncle is + aware. It is very seldom indeed that I can do that, because when I am not + out at work, I am with my father, and even when I am out at work, I hurry + home to him. But I pretend to-night that I am at a party.’ + </p> + <p> + As she made the confession, timidly hesitating, she raised her eyes to the + face, and read its expression so plainly that she answered it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no, certainly! I never was at a party in my life.’ + </p> + <p> + She paused a little under his attentive look, and then said, ‘I hope there + is no harm in it. I could never have been of any use, if I had not + pretended a little.’ + </p> + <p> + She feared that he was blaming her in his mind for so devising to contrive + for them, think for them, and watch over them, without their knowledge or + gratitude; perhaps even with their reproaches for supposed neglect. But + what was really in his mind, was the weak figure with its strong purpose, + the thin worn shoes, the insufficient dress, and the pretence of + recreation and enjoyment. He asked where the suppositious party was? At a + place where she worked, answered Little Dorrit, blushing. She had said + very little about it; only a few words to make her father easy. Her father + did not believe it to be a grand party—indeed he might suppose that. + And she glanced for an instant at the shawl she wore. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is the first night,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘that I have ever been away + from home. And London looks so large, so barren, and so wild.’ In Little + Dorrit’s eyes, its vastness under the black sky was awful; a tremor passed + over her as she said the words. + </p> + <p> + ‘But this is not,’ she added, with the quiet effort again, ‘what I have + come to trouble you with, sir. My sister’s having found a friend, a lady + she has told me of and made me rather anxious about, was the first cause + of my coming away from home. And being away, and coming (on purpose) round + by where you lived and seeing a light in the window—’ + </p> + <p> + Not for the first time. No, not for the first time. In Little Dorrit’s + eyes, the outside of that window had been a distant star on other nights + than this. She had toiled out of her way, tired and troubled, to look up + at it, and wonder about the grave, brown gentleman from so far off, who + had spoken to her as a friend and protector. + </p> + <p> + ‘There were three things,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘that I thought I would + like to say, if you were alone and I might come up-stairs. First, what I + have tried to say, but never can—never shall—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush, hush! That is done with, and disposed of. Let us pass to the + second,’ said Clennam, smiling her agitation away, making the blaze shine + upon her, and putting wine and cake and fruit towards her on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ said Little Dorrit—‘this is the second thing, sir—I + think Mrs Clennam must have found out my secret, and must know where I + come from and where I go to. Where I live, I mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed!’ returned Clennam quickly. He asked her, after short + consideration, why she supposed so. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ replied Little Dorrit, ‘that Mr Flintwinch must have watched + me.’ + </p> + <p> + And why, Clennam asked, as he turned his eyes upon the fire, bent his + brows, and considered again; why did she suppose that? + </p> + <p> + ‘I have met him twice. Both times near home. Both times at night, when I + was going back. Both times I thought (though that may easily be my + mistake), that he hardly looked as if he had met me by accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did he say anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; he only nodded and put his head on one side.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The devil take his head!’ mused Clennam, still looking at the fire; ‘it’s + always on one side.’ + </p> + <p> + He roused himself to persuade her to put some wine to her lips, and to + touch something to eat—it was very difficult, she was so timid and + shy—and then said, musing again: + </p> + <p> + ‘Is my mother at all changed to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, not at all. She is just the same. I wondered whether I had better + tell her my history. I wondered whether I might—I mean, whether you + would like me to tell her. I wondered,’ said Little Dorrit, looking at him + in a suppliant way, and gradually withdrawing her eyes as he looked at + her, ‘whether you would advise me what I ought to do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little Dorrit,’ said Clennam; and the phrase had already begun, between + these two, to stand for a hundred gentle phrases, according to the varying + tone and connection in which it was used; ‘do nothing. I will have some + talk with my old friend, Mrs Affery. Do nothing, Little Dorrit—except + refresh yourself with such means as there are here. I entreat you to do + that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, I am not hungry. Nor,’ said Little Dorrit, as he softly put + her glass towards her, ‘nor thirsty.—I think Maggy might like + something, perhaps.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We will make her find pockets presently for all there is here,’ said + Clennam: ‘but before we awake her, there was a third thing to say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. You will not be offended, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I promise that, unreservedly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It will sound strange. I hardly know how to say it. Don’t think it + unreasonable or ungrateful in me,’ said Little Dorrit, with returning and + increasing agitation. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, no. I am sure it will be natural and right. I am not afraid that + I shall put a wrong construction on it, whatever it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you. You are coming back to see my father again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been so good and thoughtful as to write him a note, saying that + you are coming to-morrow?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, that was nothing! Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can you guess,’ said Little Dorrit, folding her small hands tight in one + another, and looking at him with all the earnestness of her soul looking + steadily out of her eyes, ‘what I am going to ask you not to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I can. But I may be wrong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, you are not wrong,’ said Little Dorrit, shaking her head. ‘If we + should want it so very, very badly that we cannot do without it, let me + ask you for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I Will,—I Will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t encourage him to ask. Don’t understand him if he does ask. Don’t + give it to him. Save him and spare him that, and you will be able to think + better of him!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam said—not very plainly, seeing those tears glistening in her + anxious eyes—that her wish should be sacred with him. + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t know what he is,’ she said; ‘you don’t know what he really is. + How can you, seeing him there all at once, dear love, and not gradually, + as I have done! You have been so good to us, so delicately and truly good, + that I want him to be better in your eyes than in anybody’s. And I cannot + bear to think,’ cried Little Dorrit, covering her tears with her hands, ‘I + cannot bear to think that you of all the world should see him in his only + moments of degradation.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray,’ said Clennam, ‘do not be so distressed. Pray, pray, Little Dorrit! + This is quite understood now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir. Thank you! I have tried very much to keep myself from + saying this; I have thought about it, days and nights; but when I knew for + certain you were coming again, I made up my mind to speak to you. Not + because I am ashamed of him,’ she dried her tears quickly, ‘but because I + know him better than any one does, and love him, and am proud of him.’ + </p> + <p> + Relieved of this weight, Little Dorrit was nervously anxious to be gone. + Maggy being broad awake, and in the act of distantly gloating over the + fruit and cakes with chuckles of anticipation, Clennam made the best + diversion in his power by pouring her out a glass of wine, which she drank + in a series of loud smacks; putting her hand upon her windpipe after every + one, and saying, breathless, with her eyes in a prominent state, ‘Oh, + ain’t it d’licious! Ain’t it hospitally!’ When she had finished the wine + and these encomiums, he charged her to load her basket (she was never + without her basket) with every eatable thing upon the table, and to take + especial care to leave no scrap behind. Maggy’s pleasure in doing this and + her little mother’s pleasure in seeing Maggy pleased, was as good a turn + as circumstances could have given to the late conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘But the gates will have been locked long ago,’ said Clennam, suddenly + remembering it. ‘Where are you going?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going to Maggy’s lodging,’ answered Little Dorrit. ‘I shall be quite + safe, quite well taken care of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must accompany you there,’ said Clennam, ‘I cannot let you go alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, pray leave us to go there by ourselves. Pray do!’ begged Little + Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + She was so earnest in the petition, that Clennam felt a delicacy in + obtruding himself upon her: the rather, because he could well understand + that Maggy’s lodging was of the obscurest sort. ‘Come, Maggy,’ said Little + Dorrit cheerily, ‘we shall do very well; we know the way by this time, + Maggy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, little mother; we know the way,’ chuckled Maggy. And away they + went. Little Dorrit turned at the door to say, ‘God bless you!’ She said + it very softly, but perhaps she may have been as audible above—who + knows!—as a whole cathedral choir. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam suffered them to pass the corner of the street before he + followed at a distance; not with any idea of encroaching a second time on + Little Dorrit’s privacy, but to satisfy his mind by seeing her secure in + the neighbourhood to which she was accustomed. So diminutive she looked, + so fragile and defenceless against the bleak damp weather, flitting along + in the shuffling shadow of her charge, that he felt, in his compassion, + and in his habit of considering her a child apart from the rest of the + rough world, as if he would have been glad to take her up in his arms and + carry her to her journey’s end. + </p> + <p> + In course of time she came into the leading thoroughfare where the + Marshalsea was, and then he saw them slacken their pace, and soon turn + down a by-street. He stopped, felt that he had no right to go further, and + slowly left them. He had no suspicion that they ran any risk of being + houseless until morning; had no idea of the truth until long, long + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + But, said Little Dorrit, when they stopped at a poor dwelling all in + darkness, and heard no sound on listening at the door, ‘Now, this is a + good lodging for you, Maggy, and we must not give offence. Consequently, + we will only knock twice, and not very loud; and if we cannot wake them + so, we must walk about till day.’ + </p> + <p> + Once, Little Dorrit knocked with a careful hand, and listened. Twice, + Little Dorrit knocked with a careful hand, and listened. All was close and + still. ‘Maggy, we must do the best we can, my dear. We must be patient, + and wait for day.’ + </p> + <p> + It was a chill dark night, with a damp wind blowing, when they came out + into the leading street again, and heard the clocks strike half-past one. + ‘In only five hours and a half,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘we shall be able to + go home.’ To speak of home, and to go and look at it, it being so near, + was a natural sequence. They went to the closed gate, and peeped through + into the court-yard. ‘I hope he is sound asleep,’ said Little Dorrit, + kissing one of the bars, ‘and does not miss me.’ + </p> + <p> + The gate was so familiar, and so like a companion, that they put down + Maggy’s basket in a corner to serve for a seat, and keeping close + together, rested there for some time. While the street was empty and + silent, Little Dorrit was not afraid; but when she heard a footstep at a + distance, or saw a moving shadow among the street lamps, she was startled, + and whispered, ‘Maggy, I see some one. Come away!’ Maggy would then wake + up more or less fretfully, and they would wander about a little, and come + back again. + </p> + <p> + As long as eating was a novelty and an amusement, Maggy kept up pretty + well. But that period going by, she became querulous about the cold, and + shivered and whimpered. ‘It will soon be over, dear,’ said Little Dorrit + patiently. ‘Oh it’s all very fine for you, little mother,’ returned Maggy, + ‘but I’m a poor thing, only ten years old.’ At last, in the dead of the + night, when the street was very still indeed, Little Dorrit laid the heavy + head upon her bosom, and soothed her to sleep. And thus she sat at the + gate, as it were alone; looking up at the stars, and seeing the clouds + pass over them in their wild flight—which was the dance at Little + Dorrit’s party. + </p> + <p> + ‘If it really was a party!’ she thought once, as she sat there. ‘If it was + light and warm and beautiful, and it was our house, and my poor dear was + its master, and had never been inside these walls. And if Mr Clennam was + one of our visitors, and we were dancing to delightful music, and were all + as gay and light-hearted as ever we could be! I wonder—’ Such a + vista of wonder opened out before her, that she sat looking up at the + stars, quite lost, until Maggy was querulous again, and wanted to get up + and walk. + </p> + <p> + Three o’clock, and half-past three, and they had passed over London + Bridge. They had heard the rush of the tide against obstacles; and looked + down, awed, through the dark vapour on the river; had seen little spots of + lighted water where the bridge lamps were reflected, shining like demon + eyes, with a terrible fascination in them for guilt and misery. They had + shrunk past homeless people, lying coiled up in nooks. They had run from + drunkards. They had started from slinking men, whistling and signing to + one another at bye corners, or running away at full speed. Though + everywhere the leader and the guide, Little Dorrit, happy for once in her + youthful appearance, feigned to cling to and rely upon Maggy. And more + than once some voice, from among a knot of brawling or prowling figures in + their path, had called out to the rest to ‘let the woman and the child go + by!’ + </p> + <p> + So, the woman and the child had gone by, and gone on, and five had sounded + from the steeples. They were walking slowly towards the east, already + looking for the first pale streak of day, when a woman came after them. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing with the child?’ she said to Maggy. + </p> + <p> + She was young—far too young to be there, Heaven knows!—and + neither ugly nor wicked-looking. She spoke coarsely, but with no naturally + coarse voice; there was even something musical in its sound. + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you doing with yourself?’ retorted Maggy, for want of a better + answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t you see, without my telling you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know as I can,’ said Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Killing myself! Now I have answered you, answer me. What are you doing + with the child?’ + </p> + <p> + The supposed child kept her head drooped down, and kept her form close at + Maggy’s side. + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor thing!’ said the woman. ‘Have you no feeling, that you keep her out + in the cruel streets at such a time as this? Have you no eyes, that you + don’t see how delicate and slender she is? Have you no sense (you don’t + look as if you had much) that you don’t take more pity on this cold and + trembling little hand?’ + </p> + <p> + She had stepped across to that side, and held the hand between her own + two, chafing it. ‘Kiss a poor lost creature, dear,’ she said, bending her + face, ‘and tell me where’s she taking you.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit turned towards her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, my God!’ she said, recoiling, ‘you’re a woman!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t mind that!’ said Little Dorrit, clasping one of her hands that had + suddenly released hers. ‘I am not afraid of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you had better be,’ she answered. ‘Have you no mother?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No father?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, a very dear one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Go home to him, and be afraid of me. Let me go. Good night!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I must thank you first; let me speak to you as if I really were a child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t do it,’ said the woman. ‘You are kind and innocent; but you + can’t look at me out of a child’s eyes. I never should have touched you, + but I thought that you were a child.’ And with a strange, wild cry, she + went away. + </p> + <p> + No day yet in the sky, but there was day in the resounding stones of the + streets; in the waggons, carts, and coaches; in the workers going to + various occupations; in the opening of early shops; in the traffic at + markets; in the stir of the riverside. There was coming day in the flaring + lights, with a feebler colour in them than they would have had at another + time; coming day in the increased sharpness of the air, and the ghastly + dying of the night. + </p> + <p> + They went back again to the gate, intending to wait there now until it + should be opened; but the air was so raw and cold that Little Dorrit, + leading Maggy about in her sleep, kept in motion. Going round by the + Church, she saw lights there, and the door open; and went up the steps and + looked in. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who’s that?’ cried a stout old man, who was putting on a nightcap as if + he were going to bed in a vault. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no one particular, sir,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop!’ cried the man. ‘Let’s have a look at you!’ + </p> + <p> + This caused her to turn back again in the act of going out, and to present + herself and her charge before him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought so!’ said he. ‘I know <i>you</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We have often seen each other,’ said Little Dorrit, recognising the + sexton, or the beadle, or the verger, or whatever he was, ‘when I have + been at church here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘More than that, we’ve got your birth in our Register, you know; you’re + one of our curiosities.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed!’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure. As the child of the—by-the-bye, how did you get out so + early?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We were shut out last night, and are waiting to get in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t mean it? And there’s another hour good yet! Come into the + vestry. You’ll find a fire in the vestry, on account of the painters. I’m + waiting for the painters, or I shouldn’t be here, you may depend upon it. + One of our curiosities mustn’t be cold when we have it in our power to + warm her up comfortable. Come along.’ + </p> + <p> + He was a very good old fellow, in his familiar way; and having stirred the + vestry fire, he looked round the shelves of registers for a particular + volume. ‘Here you are, you see,’ he said, taking it down and turning the + leaves. ‘Here you’ll find yourself, as large as life. Amy, daughter of + William and Fanny Dorrit. Born, Marshalsea Prison, Parish of St George. + And we tell people that you have lived there, without so much as a day’s + or a night’s absence, ever since. Is it true?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite true, till last night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord!’ But his surveying her with an admiring gaze suggested Something + else to him, to wit: ‘I am sorry to see, though, that you are faint and + tired. Stay a bit. I’ll get some cushions out of the church, and you and + your friend shall lie down before the fire. Don’t be afraid of not going + in to join your father when the gate opens. <i>I’ll</i> call you.’ + </p> + <p> + He soon brought in the cushions, and strewed them on the ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘There you are, you see. Again as large as life. Oh, never mind thanking. + I’ve daughters of my own. And though they weren’t born in the Marshalsea + Prison, they might have been, if I had been, in my ways of carrying on, of + your father’s breed. Stop a bit. I must put something under the cushion + for your head. Here’s a burial volume, just the thing! We have got Mrs + Bangham in this book. But what makes these books interesting to most + people is—not who’s in ‘em, but who isn’t—who’s coming, you + know, and when. That’s the interesting question.’ + </p> + <p> + Commendingly looking back at the pillow he had improvised, he left them to + their hour’s repose. Maggy was snoring already, and Little Dorrit was soon + fast asleep with her head resting on that sealed book of Fate, untroubled + by its mysterious blank leaves. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0167m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0167m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0167.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + + <p> + This was Little Dorrit’s party. The shame, desertion, wretchedness, and + exposure of the great capital; the wet, the cold, the slow hours, and the + swift clouds of the dismal night. This was the party from which Little + Dorrit went home, jaded, in the first grey mist of a rainy morning. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0015"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 15. Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he debilitated old house in the city, wrapped in its mantle of soot, and + leaning heavily on the crutches that had partaken of its decay and worn + out with it, never knew a healthy or a cheerful interval, let what would + betide. If the sun ever touched it, it was but with a ray, and that was + gone in half an hour; if the moonlight ever fell upon it, it was only to + put a few patches on its doleful cloak, and make it look more wretched. + The stars, to be sure, coldly watched it when the nights and the smoke + were clear enough; and all bad weather stood by it with a rare fidelity. + You should alike find rain, hail, frost, and thaw lingering in that dismal + enclosure when they had vanished from other places; and as to snow, you + should see it there for weeks, long after it had changed from yellow to + black, slowly weeping away its grimy life. The place had no other + adherents. As to street noises, the rumbling of wheels in the lane merely + rushed in at the gateway in going past, and rushed out again: making the + listening Mistress Affery feel as if she were deaf, and recovered the + sense of hearing by instantaneous flashes. So with whistling, singing, + talking, laughing, and all pleasant human sounds. They leaped the gap in a + moment, and went upon their way. + </p> + <p> + The varying light of fire and candle in Mrs Clennam’s room made the + greatest change that ever broke the dead monotony of the spot. In her two + long narrow windows, the fire shone sullenly all day, and sullenly all + night. On rare occasions it flashed up passionately, as she did; but for + the most part it was suppressed, like her, and preyed upon itself evenly + and slowly. During many hours of the short winter days, however, when it + was dusk there early in the afternoon, changing distortions of herself in + her wheeled chair, of Mr Flintwinch with his wry neck, of Mistress Affery + coming and going, would be thrown upon the house wall that was over the + gateway, and would hover there like shadows from a great magic lantern. As + the room-ridden invalid settled for the night, these would gradually + disappear: Mistress Affery’s magnified shadow always flitting about, last, + until it finally glided away into the air, as though she were off upon a + witch excursion. Then the solitary light would burn unchangingly, until it + burned pale before the dawn, and at last died under the breath of Mrs + Affery, as her shadow descended on it from the witch-region of sleep. + </p> + <p> + Strange, if the little sick-room fire were in effect a beacon fire, + summoning some one, and that the most unlikely some one in the world, to + the spot that <i>must</i> be come to. Strange, if the little sick-room + light were in effect a watch-light, burning in that place every night + until an appointed event should be watched out! Which of the vast + multitude of travellers, under the sun and the stars, climbing the dusty + hills and toiling along the weary plains, journeying by land and + journeying by sea, coming and going so strangely, to meet and to act and + react on one another; which of the host may, with no suspicion of the + journey’s end, be travelling surely hither? + </p> + <p> + Time shall show us. The post of honour and the post of shame, the + general’s station and the drummer’s, a peer’s statue in Westminster Abbey + and a seaman’s hammock in the bosom of the deep, the mitre and the + workhouse, the woolsack and the gallows, the throne and the guillotine—the + travellers to all are on the great high road, but it has wonderful + divergencies, and only Time shall show us whither each traveller is bound. + </p> + <p> + On a wintry afternoon at twilight, Mrs Flintwinch, having been heavy all + day, dreamed this dream: + </p> + <p> + She thought she was in the kitchen getting the kettle ready for tea, and + was warming herself with her feet upon the fender and the skirt of her + gown tucked up, before the collapsed fire in the middle of the grate, + bordered on either hand by a deep cold black ravine. She thought that as + she sat thus, musing upon the question whether life was not for some + people a rather dull invention, she was frightened by a sudden noise + behind her. She thought that she had been similarly frightened once last + week, and that the noise was of a mysterious kind—a sound of + rustling and of three or four quick beats like a rapid step; while a shock + or tremble was communicated to her heart, as if the step had shaken the + floor, or even as if she had been touched by some awful hand. She thought + that this revived within her certain old fears of hers that the house was + haunted; and that she flew up the kitchen stairs without knowing how she + got up, to be nearer company. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery thought that on reaching the hall, she saw the door of her + liege lord’s office standing open, and the room empty. That she went to + the ripped-up window in the little room by the street door to connect her + palpitating heart, through the glass, with living things beyond and + outside the haunted house. That she then saw, on the wall over the + gateway, the shadows of the two clever ones in conversation above. That + she then went upstairs with her shoes in her hand, partly to be near the + clever ones as a match for most ghosts, and partly to hear what they were + talking about. + </p> + <p> + ‘None of your nonsense with me,’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘I won’t take it from + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Flintwinch dreamed that she stood behind the door, which was just + ajar, and most distinctly heard her husband say these bold words. + </p> + <p> + ‘Flintwinch,’ returned Mrs Clennam, in her usual strong low voice, ‘there + is a demon of anger in you. Guard against it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t care whether there’s one or a dozen,’ said Mr Flintwinch, + forcibly suggesting in his tone that the higher number was nearer the + mark. ‘If there was fifty, they should all say, None of your nonsense with + me, I won’t take it from you—I’d make ‘em say it, whether they liked + it or not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What have I done, you wrathful man?’ her strong voice asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Done?’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Dropped down upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you mean, remonstrated with you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t put words into my mouth that I don’t mean,’ said Jeremiah, sticking + to his figurative expression with tenacious and impenetrable obstinacy: ‘I + mean dropped down upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I remonstrated with you,’ she began again, ‘because—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t have it!’ cried Jeremiah. ‘You dropped down upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I dropped down upon you, then, you ill-conditioned man,’ (Jeremiah + chuckled at having forced her to adopt his phrase,) ‘for having been + needlessly significant to Arthur that morning. I have a right to complain + of it as almost a breach of confidence. You did not mean it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t have it!’ interposed the contradictory Jeremiah, flinging back + the concession. ‘I did mean it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose I must leave you to speak in soliloquy if you choose,’ she + replied, after a pause that seemed an angry one. ‘It is useless my + addressing myself to a rash and headstrong old man who has a set purpose + not to hear me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I won’t take that from you either,’ said Jeremiah. ‘I have no such + purpose. I have told you I did mean it. Do you wish to know why I meant + it, you rash and headstrong old woman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘After all, you only restore me my own words,’ she said, struggling with + her indignation. ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is why, then. Because you hadn’t cleared his father to him, and you + ought to have done it. Because, before you went into any tantrum about + yourself, who are—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hold there, Flintwinch!’ she cried out in a changed voice: ‘you may go a + word too far.’ + </p> + <p> + The old man seemed to think so. There was another pause, and he had + altered his position in the room, when he spoke again more mildly: + </p> + <p> + ‘I was going to tell you why it was. Because, before you took your own + part, I thought you ought to have taken the part of Arthur’s father. + Arthur’s father! I had no particular love for Arthur’s father. I served + Arthur’s father’s uncle, in this house, when Arthur’s father was not much + above me—was poorer as far as his pocket went—and when his + uncle might as soon have left me his heir as have left him. He starved in + the parlour, and I starved in the kitchen; that was the principal + difference in our positions; there was not much more than a flight of + breakneck stairs between us. I never took to him in those times; I don’t + know that I ever took to him greatly at any time. He was an undecided, + irresolute chap, who had everything but his orphan life scared out of him + when he was young. And when he brought you home here, the wife his uncle + had named for him, I didn’t need to look at you twice (you were a + good-looking woman at that time) to know who’d be master. You have stood + of your own strength ever since. Stand of your own strength now. Don’t + lean against the dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do <i>not</i>—as you call it—lean against the dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you had a mind to do it, if I had submitted,’ growled Jeremiah, ‘and + that’s why you drop down upon me. You can’t forget that I didn’t submit. I + suppose you are astonished that I should consider it worth my while to + have justice done to Arthur’s father? Hey? It doesn’t matter whether you + answer or not, because I know you are, and you know you are. Come, then, + I’ll tell you how it is. I may be a bit of an oddity in point of temper, + but this is my temper—I can’t let anybody have entirely their own + way. You are a determined woman, and a clever woman; and when you see your + purpose before you, nothing will turn you from it. Who knows that better + than I do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing will turn me from it, Flintwinch, when I have justified it to + myself. Add that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Justified it to yourself? I said you were the most determined woman on + the face of the earth (or I meant to say so), and if you are determined to + justify any object you entertain, of course you’ll do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Man! I justify myself by the authority of these Books,’ she cried, with + stern emphasis, and appearing from the sound that followed to strike the + dead-weight of her arm upon the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind that,’ returned Jeremiah calmly, ‘we won’t enter into that + question at present. However that may be, you carry out your purposes, and + you make everything go down before them. Now, I won’t go down before them. + I have been faithful to you, and useful to you, and I am attached to you. + But I can’t consent, and I won’t consent, and I never did consent, and I + never will consent to be lost in you. Swallow up everybody else, and + welcome. The peculiarity of my temper is, ma’am, that I won’t be swallowed + up alive.’ + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this had originally been the mainspring of the understanding + between them. Descrying thus much of force of character in Mr Flintwinch, + perhaps Mrs Clennam had deemed alliance with him worth her while. + </p> + <p> + ‘Enough and more than enough of the subject,’ said she gloomily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless you drop down upon me again,’ returned the persistent Flintwinch, + ‘and then you must expect to hear of it again.’ + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery dreamed that the figure of her lord here began walking up + and down the room, as if to cool his spleen, and that she ran away; but + that, as he did not issue forth when she had stood listening and trembling + in the shadowy hall a little time, she crept up-stairs again, impelled as + before by ghosts and curiosity, and once more cowered outside the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please to light the candle, Flintwinch,’ Mrs Clennam was saying, + apparently wishing to draw him back into their usual tone. ‘It is nearly + time for tea. Little Dorrit is coming, and will find me in the dark.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch lighted the candle briskly, and said as he put it down upon + the table: + </p> + <p> + ‘What are you going to do with Little Dorrit? Is she to come to work here + for ever? To come to tea here for ever? To come backwards and forwards + here, in the same way, for ever?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can you talk about “for ever” to a maimed creature like me? Are we + not all cut down like the grass of the field, and was not I shorn by the + scythe many years ago: since when I have been lying here, waiting to be + gathered into the barn?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, ay! But since you have been lying here—not near dead—nothing + like it—numbers of children and young people, blooming women, strong + men, and what not, have been cut down and carried; and still here are you, + you see, not much changed after all. Your time and mine may be a long one + yet. When I say for ever, I mean (though I am not poetical) through all + our time.’ Mr Flintwinch gave this explanation with great calmness, and + calmly waited for an answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘So long as Little Dorrit is quiet and industrious, and stands in need of + the slight help I can give her, and deserves it; so long, I suppose, + unless she withdraws of her own act, she will continue to come here, I + being spared.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing more than that?’ said Flintwinch, stroking his mouth and chin. + </p> + <p> + ‘What should there be more than that! What could there be more than that!’ + she ejaculated in her sternly wondering way. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Flintwinch dreamed, that, for the space of a minute or two, they + remained looking at each other with the candle between them, and that she + somehow derived an impression that they looked at each other fixedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you happen to know, Mrs Clennam,’ Affery’s liege lord then demanded in + a much lower voice, and with an amount of expression that seemed quite out + of proportion to the simple purpose of his words, ‘where she lives?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you—now, would you like to know?’ said Jeremiah with a pounce + as if he had sprung upon her. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I cared to know, I should know already. Could I not have asked her any + day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you don’t care to know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, having expelled a long significant breath said, with his + former emphasis, ‘For I have accidentally—mind!—found out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wherever she lives,’ said Mrs Clennam, speaking in one unmodulated hard + voice, and separating her words as distinctly as if she were reading them + off from separate bits of metal that she took up one by one, ‘she has made + a secret of it, and she shall always keep her secret from me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘After all, perhaps you would rather not have known the fact, any how?’ + said Jeremiah; and he said it with a twist, as if his words had come out + of him in his own wry shape. + </p> + <p> + ‘Flintwinch,’ said his mistress and partner, flashing into a sudden energy + that made Affery start, ‘why do you goad me? Look round this room. If it + is any compensation for my long confinement within these narrow limits—not + that I complain of being afflicted; you know I never complain of that—if + it is any compensation to me for long confinement to this room, that while + I am shut up from all pleasant change I am also shut up from the knowledge + of some things that I may prefer to avoid knowing, why should you, of all + men, grudge me that belief?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t grudge it to you,’ returned Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then say no more. Say no more. Let Little Dorrit keep her secret from me, + and do you keep it from me also. Let her come and go, unobserved and + unquestioned. Let me suffer, and let me have what alleviation belongs to + my condition. Is it so much, that you torment me like an evil spirit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I asked you a question. That’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have answered it. So, say no more. Say no more.’ Here the sound of the + wheeled chair was heard upon the floor, and Affery’s bell rang with a + hasty jerk. + </p> + <p> + More afraid of her husband at the moment than of the mysterious sound in + the kitchen, Affery crept away as lightly and as quickly as she could, + descended the kitchen stairs almost as rapidly as she had ascended them, + resumed her seat before the fire, tucked up her skirt again, and finally + threw her apron over her head. Then the bell rang once more, and then once + more, and then kept on ringing; in despite of which importunate summons, + Affery still sat behind her apron, recovering her breath. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr Flintwinch came shuffling down the staircase into the hall, + muttering and calling ‘Affery woman!’ all the way. Affery still remaining + behind her apron, he came stumbling down the kitchen stairs, candle in + hand, sidled up to her, twitched her apron off, and roused her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh Jeremiah!’ cried Affery, waking. ‘What a start you gave me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What have you been doing, woman?’ inquired Jeremiah. ‘You’ve been rung + for fifty times.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh Jeremiah,’ said Mistress Affery, ‘I have been a-dreaming!’ + </p> + <p> + Reminded of her former achievement in that way, Mr Flintwinch held the + candle to her head, as if he had some idea of lighting her up for the + illumination of the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you know it’s her tea-time?’ he demanded with a vicious grin, and + giving one of the legs of Mistress Affery’s chair a kick. + </p> + <p> + ‘Jeremiah? Tea-time? I don’t know what’s come to me. But I got such a + dreadful turn, Jeremiah, before I went—off a-dreaming, that I think + it must be that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yoogh! Sleepy-Head!’ said Mr Flintwinch, ‘what are you talking about?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Such a strange noise, Jeremiah, and such a curious movement. In the + kitchen here—just here.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeremiah held up his light and looked at the blackened ceiling, held down + his light and looked at the damp stone floor, turned round with his light + and looked about at the spotted and blotched walls. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0175m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0175m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0175.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Rats, cats, water, drains,’ said Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery negatived each with a shake of her head. ‘No, Jeremiah; I + have felt it before. I have felt it up-stairs, and once on the staircase + as I was going from her room to ours in the night—a rustle and a + sort of trembling touch behind me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Affery, my woman,’ said Mr Flintwinch grimly, after advancing his nose to + that lady’s lips as a test for the detection of spirituous liquors, ‘if + you don’t get tea pretty quick, old woman, you’ll become sensible of a + rustle and a touch that’ll send you flying to the other end of the + kitchen.’ + </p> + <p> + This prediction stimulated Mrs Flintwinch to bestir herself, and to hasten + up-stairs to Mrs Clennam’s chamber. But, for all that, she now began to + entertain a settled conviction that there was something wrong in the + gloomy house. Henceforth, she was never at peace in it after daylight + departed; and never went up or down stairs in the dark without having her + apron over her head, lest she should see something. + </p> + <p> + What with these ghostly apprehensions and her singular dreams, Mrs + Flintwinch fell that evening into a haunted state of mind, from which it + may be long before this present narrative descries any trace of her + recovery. In the vagueness and indistinctness of all her new experiences + and perceptions, as everything about her was mysterious to herself she + began to be mysterious to others: and became as difficult to be made out + to anybody’s satisfaction as she found the house and everything in it + difficult to make out to her own. + </p> + <p> + She had not yet finished preparing Mrs Clennam’s tea, when the soft knock + came to the door which always announced Little Dorrit. Mistress Affery + looked on at Little Dorrit taking off her homely bonnet in the hall, and + at Mr Flintwinch scraping his jaws and contemplating her in silence, as + expecting some wonderful consequence to ensue which would frighten her out + of her five wits or blow them all three to pieces. + </p> + <p> + After tea there came another knock at the door, announcing Arthur. + Mistress Affery went down to let him in, and he said on entering, ‘Affery, + I am glad it’s you. I want to ask you a question.’ Affery immediately + replied, ‘For goodness sake don’t ask me nothing, Arthur! I am frightened + out of one half of my life, and dreamed out of the other. Don’t ask me + nothing! I don’t know which is which, or what is what!’—and + immediately started away from him, and came near him no more. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery having no taste for reading, and no sufficient light for + needlework in the subdued room, supposing her to have the inclination, now + sat every night in the dimness from which she had momentarily emerged on + the evening of Arthur Clennam’s return, occupied with crowds of wild + speculations and suspicions respecting her mistress and her husband and + the noises in the house. When the ferocious devotional exercises were + engaged in, these speculations would distract Mistress Affery’s eyes + towards the door, as if she expected some dark form to appear at those + propitious moments, and make the party one too many. + </p> + <p> + Otherwise, Affery never said or did anything to attract the attention of + the two clever ones towards her in any marked degree, except on certain + occasions, generally at about the quiet hour towards bed-time, when she + would suddenly dart out of her dim corner, and whisper with a face of + terror to Mr Flintwinch, reading the paper near Mrs Clennam’s little + table: + </p> + <p> + ‘There, Jeremiah! Now! What’s that noise?’ + </p> + <p> + Then the noise, if there were any, would have ceased, and Mr Flintwinch + would snarl, turning upon her as if she had cut him down that moment + against his will, ‘Affery, old woman, you shall have a dose, old woman, + such a dose! You have been dreaming again!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0016"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 16. Nobody’s Weakness + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he time being come for the renewal of his acquaintance with the Meagles + family, Clennam, pursuant to contract made between himself and Mr Meagles + within the precincts of Bleeding Heart Yard, turned his face on a certain + Saturday towards Twickenham, where Mr Meagles had a cottage-residence of + his own. The weather being fine and dry, and any English road abounding in + interest for him who had been so long away, he sent his valise on by the + coach, and set out to walk. A walk was in itself a new enjoyment to him, + and one that had rarely diversified his life afar off. + </p> + <p> + He went by Fulham and Putney, for the pleasure of strolling over the + heath. It was bright and shining there; and when he found himself so far + on his road to Twickenham, he found himself a long way on his road to a + number of airier and less substantial destinations. They had risen before + him fast, in the healthful exercise and the pleasant road. It is not easy + to walk alone in the country without musing upon something. And he had + plenty of unsettled subjects to meditate upon, though he had been walking + to the Land’s End. + </p> + <p> + First, there was the subject seldom absent from his mind, the question, + what he was to do henceforth in life; to what occupation he should devote + himself, and in what direction he had best seek it. He was far from rich, + and every day of indecision and inaction made his inheritance a source of + greater anxiety to him. As often as he began to consider how to increase + this inheritance, or to lay it by, so often his misgiving that there was + some one with an unsatisfied claim upon his justice, returned; and that + alone was a subject to outlast the longest walk. Again, there was the + subject of his relations with his mother, which were now upon an equable + and peaceful but never confidential footing, and whom he saw several times + a week. Little Dorrit was a leading and a constant subject: for the + circumstances of his life, united to those of her own story, presented the + little creature to him as the only person between whom and himself there + were ties of innocent reliance on one hand, and affectionate protection on + the other; ties of compassion, respect, unselfish interest, gratitude, and + pity. Thinking of her, and of the possibility of her father’s release from + prison by the unbarring hand of death—the only change of + circumstance he could foresee that might enable him to be such a friend to + her as he wished to be, by altering her whole manner of life, smoothing + her rough road, and giving her a home—he regarded her, in that + perspective, as his adopted daughter, his poor child of the Marshalsea + hushed to rest. If there were a last subject in his thoughts, and it lay + towards Twickenham, its form was so indefinite that it was little more + than the pervading atmosphere in which these other subjects floated before + him. + </p> + <p> + He had crossed the heath and was leaving it behind when he gained upon a + figure which had been in advance of him for some time, and which, as he + gained upon it, he thought he knew. He derived this impression from + something in the turn of the head, and in the figure’s action of + consideration, as it went on at a sufficiently sturdy walk. But when the + man—for it was a man’s figure—pushed his hat up at the back of + his head, and stopped to consider some object before him, he knew it to be + Daniel Doyce. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you do, Mr Doyce?’ said Clennam, overtaking him. ‘I am glad to see + you again, and in a healthier place than the Circumlocution Office.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ha! Mr Meagles’s friend!’ exclaimed that public criminal, coming out of + some mental combinations he had been making, and offering his hand. ‘I am + glad to see you, sir. Will you excuse me if I forget your name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Readily. It’s not a celebrated name. It’s not Barnacle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ said Daniel, laughing. ‘And now I know what it is. It’s Clennam. + How do you do, Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have some hope,’ said Arthur, as they walked on together, ‘that we may + be going to the same place, Mr Doyce.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Meaning Twickenham?’ returned Daniel. ‘I am glad to hear it.’ + </p> + <p> + They were soon quite intimate, and lightened the way with a variety of + conversation. The ingenious culprit was a man of great modesty and good + sense; and, though a plain man, had been too much accustomed to combine + what was original and daring in conception with what was patient and + minute in execution, to be by any means an ordinary man. It was at first + difficult to lead him to speak about himself, and he put off Arthur’s + advances in that direction by admitting slightly, oh yes, he had done + this, and he had done that, and such a thing was of his making, and such + another thing was his discovery, but it was his trade, you see, his trade; + until, as he gradually became assured that his companion had a real + interest in his account of himself, he frankly yielded to it. Then it + appeared that he was the son of a north-country blacksmith, and had + originally been apprenticed by his widowed mother to a lock-maker; that he + had ‘struck out a few little things’ at the lock-maker’s, which had led to + his being released from his indentures with a present, which present had + enabled him to gratify his ardent wish to bind himself to a working + engineer, under whom he had laboured hard, learned hard, and lived hard, + seven years. His time being out, he had ‘worked in the shop’ at weekly + wages seven or eight years more; and had then betaken himself to the banks + of the Clyde, where he had studied, and filed, and hammered, and improved + his knowledge, theoretical and practical, for six or seven years more. + There he had had an offer to go to Lyons, which he had accepted; and from + Lyons had been engaged to go to Germany, and in Germany had had an offer + to go to St Petersburg, and there had done very well indeed—never + better. However, he had naturally felt a preference for his own country, + and a wish to gain distinction there, and to do whatever service he could + do, there rather than elsewhere. And so he had come home. And so at home + he had established himself in business, and had invented and executed, and + worked his way on, until, after a dozen years of constant suit and + service, he had been enrolled in the Great British Legion of Honour, the + Legion of the Rebuffed of the Circumlocution Office, and had been + decorated with the Great British Order of Merit, the Order of the Disorder + of the Barnacles and Stiltstalkings. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is much to be regretted,’ said Clennam, ‘that you ever turned your + thoughts that way, Mr Doyce.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True, sir, true to a certain extent. But what is a man to do? if he has + the misfortune to strike out something serviceable to the nation, he must + follow where it leads him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hadn’t he better let it go?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘He can’t do it,’ said Doyce, shaking his head with a thoughtful smile. + ‘It’s not put into his head to be buried. It’s put into his head to be + made useful. You hold your life on the condition that to the last you + shall struggle hard for it. Every man holds a discovery on the same + terms.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is to say,’ said Arthur, with a growing admiration of his quiet + companion, ‘you are not finally discouraged even now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no right to be, if I am,’ returned the other. ‘The thing is as + true as it ever was.’ + </p> + <p> + When they had walked a little way in silence, Clennam, at once to change + the direct point of their conversation and not to change it too abruptly, + asked Mr Doyce if he had any partner in his business to relieve him of a + portion of its anxieties? + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he returned, ‘not at present. I had when I first entered on it, and + a good man he was. But he has been dead some years; and as I could not + easily take to the notion of another when I lost him, I bought his share + for myself and have gone on by myself ever since. And here’s another + thing,’ he said, stopping for a moment with a good-humoured laugh in his + eyes, and laying his closed right hand, with its peculiar suppleness of + thumb, on Clennam’s arm, ‘no inventor can be a man of business, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, so the men of business say,’ he answered, resuming the walk and + laughing outright. ‘I don’t know why we unfortunate creatures should be + supposed to want common sense, but it is generally taken for granted that + we do. Even the best friend I have in the world, our excellent friend over + yonder,’ said Doyce, nodding towards Twickenham, ‘extends a sort of + protection to me, don’t you know, as a man not quite able to take care of + himself?’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam could not help joining in the good-humoured laugh, for he + recognised the truth of the description. + </p> + <p> + ‘So I find that I must have a partner who is a man of business and not + guilty of any inventions,’ said Daniel Doyce, taking off his hat to pass + his hand over his forehead, ‘if it’s only in deference to the current + opinion, and to uphold the credit of the Works. I don’t think he’ll find + that I have been very remiss or confused in my way of conducting them; but + that’s for him to say—whoever he is—not for me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have not chosen him yet, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, no. I have only just come to a decision to take one. The fact + is, there’s more to do than there used to be, and the Works are enough for + me as I grow older. What with the books and correspondence, and foreign + journeys for which a Principal is necessary, I can’t do all. I am going to + talk over the best way of negotiating the matter, if I find a spare + half-hour between this and Monday morning, with my—my Nurse and + protector,’ said Doyce, with laughing eyes again. ‘He is a sagacious man + in business, and has had a good apprenticeship to it.’ + </p> + <p> + After this, they conversed on different subjects until they arrived at + their journey’s end. A composed and unobtrusive self-sustainment was + noticeable in Daniel Doyce—a calm knowledge that what was true must + remain true, in spite of all the Barnacles in the family ocean, and would + be just the truth, and neither more nor less when even that sea had run + dry—which had a kind of greatness in it, though not of the official + quality. + </p> + <p> + As he knew the house well, he conducted Arthur to it by the way that + showed it to the best advantage. It was a charming place (none the worse + for being a little eccentric), on the road by the river, and just what the + residence of the Meagles family ought to be. It stood in a garden, no + doubt as fresh and beautiful in the May of the Year as Pet now was in the + May of her life; and it was defended by a goodly show of handsome trees + and spreading evergreens, as Pet was by Mr and Mrs Meagles. It was made + out of an old brick house, of which a part had been altogether pulled + down, and another part had been changed into the present cottage; so there + was a hale elderly portion, to represent Mr and Mrs Meagles, and a young + picturesque, very pretty portion to represent Pet. There was even the + later addition of a conservatory sheltering itself against it, uncertain + of hue in its deep-stained glass, and in its more transparent portions + flashing to the sun’s rays, now like fire and now like harmless water + drops; which might have stood for Tattycoram. Within view was the peaceful + river and the ferry-boat, to moralise to all the inmates saying: Young or + old, passionate or tranquil, chafing or content, you, thus runs the + current always. Let the heart swell into what discord it will, thus plays + the rippling water on the prow of the ferry-boat ever the same tune. Year + after year, so much allowance for the drifting of the boat, so many miles + an hour the flowing of the stream, here the rushes, there the lilies, + nothing uncertain or unquiet, upon this road that steadily runs away; + while you, upon your flowing road of time, are so capricious and + distracted. + </p> + <p> + The bell at the gate had scarcely sounded when Mr Meagles came out to + receive them. Mr Meagles had scarcely come out, when Mrs Meagles came out. + Mrs Meagles had scarcely come out, when Pet came out. Pet scarcely had + come out, when Tattycoram came out. Never had visitors a more hospitable + reception. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here we are, you see,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘boxed up, Mr Clennam, within our + own home-limits, as if we were never going to expand—that is, travel—again. + Not like Marseilles, eh? No allonging and marshonging here!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A different kind of beauty, indeed!’ said Clennam, looking about him. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, Lord bless me!’ cried Mr Meagles, rubbing his hands with a relish, + ‘it was an uncommonly pleasant thing being in quarantine, wasn’t it? Do + you know, I have often wished myself back again? We were a capital party.’ + </p> + <p> + This was Mr Meagles’s invariable habit. Always to object to everything + while he was travelling, and always to want to get back to it when he was + not travelling. + </p> + <p> + ‘If it was summer-time,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘which I wish it was on your + account, and in order that you might see the place at its best, you would + hardly be able to hear yourself speak for birds. Being practical people, + we never allow anybody to scare the birds; and the birds, being practical + people too, come about us in myriads. We are delighted to see you, Clennam + (if you’ll allow me, I shall drop the Mister); I heartily assure you, we + are delighted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not had so pleasant a greeting,’ said Clennam—then he + recalled what Little Dorrit had said to him in his own room, and + faithfully added ‘except once—since we last walked to and fro, + looking down at the Mediterranean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ returned Mr Meagles. ‘Something like a look out, <i>that</i> was, + wasn’t it? I don’t want a military government, but I shouldn’t mind a + little allonging and marshonging—just a dash of it—in this + neighbourhood sometimes. It’s Devilish still.’ + </p> + <p> + Bestowing this eulogium on the retired character of his retreat with a + dubious shake of the head, Mr Meagles led the way into the house. It was + just large enough, and no more; was as pretty within as it was without, + and was perfectly well-arranged and comfortable. Some traces of the + migratory habits of the family were to be observed in the covered frames + and furniture, and wrapped-up hangings; but it was easy to see that it was + one of Mr Meagles’s whims to have the cottage always kept, in their + absence, as if they were always coming back the day after to-morrow. Of + articles collected on his various expeditions, there was such a vast + miscellany that it was like the dwelling of an amiable Corsair. There were + antiquities from Central Italy, made by the best modern houses in that + department of industry; bits of mummy from Egypt (and perhaps Birmingham); + model gondolas from Venice; model villages from Switzerland; morsels of + tesselated pavement from Herculaneum and Pompeii, like petrified minced + veal; ashes out of tombs, and lava out of Vesuvius; Spanish fans, Spezzian + straw hats, Moorish slippers, Tuscan hairpins, Carrara sculpture, + Trastaverini scarves, Genoese velvets and filigree, Neapolitan coral, + Roman cameos, Geneva jewellery, Arab lanterns, rosaries blest all round by + the Pope himself, and an infinite variety of lumber. There were views, + like and unlike, of a multitude of places; and there was one little + picture-room devoted to a few of the regular sticky old Saints, with + sinews like whipcord, hair like Neptune’s, wrinkles like tattooing, and + such coats of varnish that every holy personage served for a fly-trap, and + became what is now called in the vulgar tongue a Catch-em-alive O. Of + these pictorial acquisitions Mr Meagles spoke in the usual manner. He was + no judge, he said, except of what pleased himself; he had picked them up, + dirt-cheap, and people <i>had</i> considered them rather fine. One man, + who at any rate ought to know something of the subject, had declared that + ‘Sage, Reading’ (a specially oily old gentleman in a blanket, with a + swan’s-down tippet for a beard, and a web of cracks all over him like rich + pie-crust), to be a fine Guercino. As for Sebastian del Piombo there, you + would judge for yourself; if it were not his later manner, the question + was, Who was it? Titian, that might or might not be—perhaps he had + only touched it. Daniel Doyce said perhaps he hadn’t touched it, but Mr + Meagles rather declined to overhear the remark. + </p> + <p> + When he had shown all his spoils, Mr Meagles took them into his own snug + room overlooking the lawn, which was fitted up in part like a + dressing-room and in part like an office, and in which, upon a kind of + counter-desk, were a pair of brass scales for weighing gold, and a scoop + for shovelling out money. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here they are, you see,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘I stood behind these two + articles five-and-thirty years running, when I no more thought of gadding + about than I now think of—staying at home. When I left the Bank for + good, I asked for them, and brought them away with me. I mention it at + once, or you might suppose that I sit in my counting-house (as Pet says I + do), like the king in the poem of the four-and-twenty blackbirds, counting + out my money.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam’s eyes had strayed to a natural picture on the wall, of two pretty + little girls with their arms entwined. ‘Yes, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, in + a lower voice. ‘There they both are. It was taken some seventeen years + ago. As I often say to Mother, they were babies then.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Their names?’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, to be sure! You have never heard any name but Pet. Pet’s name is + Minnie; her sister’s Lillie.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Should you have known, Mr Clennam, that one of them was meant for me?’ + asked Pet herself, now standing in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + ‘I might have thought that both of them were meant for you, both are still + so like you. Indeed,’ said Clennam, glancing from the fair original to the + picture and back, ‘I cannot even now say which is not your portrait.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘D’ye hear that, Mother?’ cried Mr Meagles to his wife, who had followed + her daughter. ‘It’s always the same, Clennam; nobody can decide. The child + to your left is Pet.’ + </p> + <p> + The picture happened to be near a looking-glass. As Arthur looked at it + again, he saw, by the reflection of the mirror, Tattycoram stop in passing + outside the door, listen to what was going on, and pass away with an angry + and contemptuous frown upon her face, that changed its beauty into + ugliness. + </p> + <p> + ‘But come!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘You have had a long walk, and will be glad + to get your boots off. As to Daniel here, I suppose he’d never think of + taking <i>his</i> boots off, unless we showed him a boot-jack.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ asked Daniel, with a significant smile at Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! You have so many things to think about,’ returned Mr Meagles, + clapping him on the shoulder, as if his weakness must not be left to + itself on any account. ‘Figures, and wheels, and cogs, and levers, and + screws, and cylinders, and a thousand things.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In my calling,’ said Daniel, amused, ‘the greater usually includes the + less. But never mind, never mind! Whatever pleases you, pleases me.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam could not help speculating, as he seated himself in his room by + the fire, whether there might be in the breast of this honest, + affectionate, and cordial Mr Meagles, any microscopic portion of the + mustard-seed that had sprung up into the great tree of the Circumlocution + Office. His curious sense of a general superiority to Daniel Doyce, which + seemed to be founded, not so much on anything in Doyce’s personal + character as on the mere fact of his being an originator and a man out of + the beaten track of other men, suggested the idea. It might have occupied + him until he went down to dinner an hour afterwards, if he had not had + another question to consider, which had been in his mind so long ago as + before he was in quarantine at Marseilles, and which had now returned to + it, and was very urgent with it. No less a question than this: Whether he + should allow himself to fall in love with Pet? + </p> + <p> + He was twice her age. (He changed the leg he had crossed over the other, + and tried the calculation again, but could not bring out the total at + less.) He was twice her age. Well! He was young in appearance, young in + health and strength, young in heart. A man was certainly not old at forty; + and many men were not in circumstances to marry, or did not marry, until + they had attained that time of life. On the other hand, the question was, + not what he thought of the point, but what she thought of it. + </p> + <p> + He believed that Mr Meagles was disposed to entertain a ripe regard for + him, and he knew that he had a sincere regard for Mr Meagles and his good + wife. He could foresee that to relinquish this beautiful only child, of + whom they were so fond, to any husband, would be a trial of their love + which perhaps they never yet had had the fortitude to contemplate. But the + more beautiful and winning and charming she, the nearer they must always + be to the necessity of approaching it. And why not in his favour, as well + as in another’s? + </p> + <p> + When he had got so far, it came again into his head that the question was, + not what they thought of it, but what she thought of it. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam was a retiring man, with a sense of many deficiencies; and + he so exalted the merits of the beautiful Minnie in his mind, and + depressed his own, that when he pinned himself to this point, his hopes + began to fail him. He came to the final resolution, as he made himself + ready for dinner, that he would not allow himself to fall in love with + Pet. + </p> + <p> + There were only five, at a round table, and it was very pleasant indeed. + They had so many places and people to recall, and they were all so easy + and cheerful together (Daniel Doyce either sitting out like an amused + spectator at cards, or coming in with some shrewd little experiences of + his own, when it happened to be to the purpose), that they might have been + together twenty times, and not have known so much of one another. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Miss Wade,’ said Mr Meagles, after they had recalled a number of + fellow-travellers. ‘Has anybody seen Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have,’ said Tattycoram. + </p> + <p> + She had brought a little mantle which her young mistress had sent for, and + was bending over her, putting it on, when she lifted up her dark eyes and + made this unexpected answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tatty!’ her young mistress exclaimed. ‘You seen Miss Wade?—where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Here, miss,’ said Tattycoram. + </p> + <p> + ‘How?’ + </p> + <p> + An impatient glance from Tattycoram seemed, as Clennam saw it, to answer + ‘With my eyes!’ But her only answer in words was: ‘I met her near the + church.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was she doing there I wonder!’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Not going to it, I + should think.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She had written to me first,’ said Tattycoram. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Tatty!’ murmured her mistress, ‘take your hands away. I feel as if + some one else was touching me!’ + </p> + <p> + She said it in a quick involuntary way, but half playfully, and not more + petulantly or disagreeably than a favourite child might have done, who + laughed next moment. Tattycoram set her full red lips together, and + crossed her arms upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you wish to know, sir,’ she said, looking at Mr Meagles, ‘what Miss + Wade wrote to me about?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Tattycoram,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘since you ask the question, and + we are all friends here, perhaps you may as well mention it, if you are so + inclined.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She knew, when we were travelling, where you lived,’ said Tattycoram, + ‘and she had seen me not quite—not quite—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not quite in a good temper, Tattycoram?’ suggested Mr Meagles, shaking + his head at the dark eyes with a quiet caution. ‘Take a little time—count + five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + She pressed her lips together again, and took a long deep breath. + </p> + <p> + ‘So she wrote to me to say that if I ever felt myself hurt,’ she looked + down at her young mistress, ‘or found myself worried,’ she looked down at + her again, ‘I might go to her, and be considerately treated. I was to + think of it, and could speak to her by the church. So I went there to + thank her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tatty,’ said her young mistress, putting her hand up over her shoulder + that the other might take it, ‘Miss Wade almost frightened me when we + parted, and I scarcely like to think of her just now as having been so + near me without my knowing it. Tatty dear!’ + </p> + <p> + Tatty stood for a moment, immovable. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hey?’ cried Mr Meagles. ‘Count another five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + She might have counted a dozen, when she bent and put her lips to the + caressing hand. It patted her cheek, as it touched the owner’s beautiful + curls, and Tattycoram went away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now there,’ said Mr Meagles softly, as he gave a turn to the dumb-waiter + on his right hand to twirl the sugar towards himself. ‘There’s a girl who + might be lost and ruined, if she wasn’t among practical people. Mother and + I know, solely from being practical, that there are times when that girl’s + whole nature seems to roughen itself against seeing us so bound up in Pet. + No father and mother were bound up in her, poor soul. I don’t like to + think of the way in which that unfortunate child, with all that passion + and protest in her, feels when she hears the Fifth Commandment on a + Sunday. I am always inclined to call out, Church, Count five-and-twenty, + Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + Besides his dumb-waiter, Mr Meagles had two other not dumb waiters in the + persons of two parlour-maids with rosy faces and bright eyes, who were a + highly ornamental part of the table decoration. ‘And why not, you see?’ + said Mr Meagles on this head. ‘As I always say to Mother, why not have + something pretty to look at, if you have anything at all?’ + </p> + <p> + A certain Mrs Tickit, who was Cook and Housekeeper when the family were at + home, and Housekeeper only when the family were away, completed the + establishment. Mr Meagles regretted that the nature of the duties in which + she was engaged, rendered Mrs Tickit unpresentable at present, but hoped + to introduce her to the new visitor to-morrow. She was an important part + of the Cottage, he said, and all his friends knew her. That was her + picture up in the corner. When they went away, she always put on the + silk-gown and the jet-black row of curls represented in that portrait (her + hair was reddish-grey in the kitchen), established herself in the + breakfast-room, put her spectacles between two particular leaves of Doctor + Buchan’s Domestic Medicine, and sat looking over the blind all day until + they came back again. It was supposed that no persuasion could be invented + which would induce Mrs Tickit to abandon her post at the blind, however + long their absence, or to dispense with the attendance of Dr Buchan; the + lucubrations of which learned practitioner, Mr Meagles implicitly believed + she had never yet consulted to the extent of one word in her life. + </p> + <p> + In the evening they played an old-fashioned rubber; and Pet sat looking + over her father’s hand, or singing to herself by fits and starts at the + piano. She was a spoilt child; but how could she be otherwise? Who could + be much with so pliable and beautiful a creature, and not yield to her + endearing influence? Who could pass an evening in the house, and not love + her for the grace and charm of her very presence in the room? This was + Clennam’s reflection, notwithstanding the final conclusion at which he had + arrived up-stairs. + </p> + <p> + In making it, he revoked. ‘Why, what are you thinking of, my good sir?’ + asked the astonished Mr Meagles, who was his partner. ‘I beg your pardon. + Nothing,’ returned Clennam. ‘Think of something, next time; that’s a dear + fellow,’ said Mr Meagles. Pet laughingly believed he had been thinking of + Miss Wade. ‘Why of Miss Wade, Pet?’ asked her father. ‘Why, indeed!’ said + Arthur Clennam. Pet coloured a little, and went to the piano again. + </p> + <p> + As they broke up for the night, Arthur overheard Doyce ask his host if he + could give him half an hour’s conversation before breakfast in the + morning? The host replying willingly, Arthur lingered behind a moment, + having his own word to add to that topic. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Meagles,’ he said, on their being left alone, ‘do you remember when + you advised me to go straight to London?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perfectly well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And when you gave me some other good advice which I needed at that time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t say what it was worth,’ answered Mr Meagles: ‘but of course I + remember our being very pleasant and confidential together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have acted on your advice; and having disembarrassed myself of an + occupation that was painful to me for many reasons, wish to devote myself + and what means I have, to another pursuit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Right! You can’t do it too soon,’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, as I came down to-day, I found that your friend, Mr Doyce, is + looking for a partner in his business—not a partner in his + mechanical knowledge, but in the ways and means of turning the business + arising from it to the best account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so,’ said Mr Meagles, with his hands in his pockets, and with the + old business expression of face that had belonged to the scales and scoop. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Doyce mentioned incidentally, in the course of our conversation, that + he was going to take your valuable advice on the subject of finding such a + partner. If you should think our views and opportunities at all likely to + coincide, perhaps you will let him know my available position. I speak, of + course, in ignorance of the details, and they may be unsuitable on both + sides.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt, no doubt,’ said Mr Meagles, with the caution belonging to the + scales and scoop. + </p> + <p> + ‘But they will be a question of figures and accounts—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so, just so,’ said Mr Meagles, with arithmetical solidity belonging + to the scales and scoop. + </p> + <p> + ‘—And I shall be glad to enter into the subject, provided Mr Doyce + responds, and you think well of it. If you will at present, therefore, + allow me to place it in your hands, you will much oblige me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Clennam, I accept the trust with readiness,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘And + without anticipating any of the points which you, as a man of business, + have of course reserved, I am free to say to you that I think something + may come of this. Of one thing you may be perfectly certain. Daniel is an + honest man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so sure of it that I have promptly made up my mind to speak to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You must guide him, you know; you must steer him; you must direct him; he + is one of a crotchety sort,’ said Mr Meagles, evidently meaning nothing + more than that he did new things and went new ways; ‘but he is as honest + as the sun, and so good night!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam went back to his room, sat down again before his fire, and made up + his mind that he was glad he had resolved not to fall in love with Pet. + She was so beautiful, so amiable, so apt to receive any true impression + given to her gentle nature and her innocent heart, and make the man who + should be so happy as to communicate it, the most fortunate and enviable + of all men, that he was very glad indeed he had come to that conclusion. + </p> + <p> + But, as this might have been a reason for coming to the opposite + conclusion, he followed out the theme again a little way in his mind; to + justify himself, perhaps. + </p> + <p> + ‘Suppose that a man,’ so his thoughts ran, ‘who had been of age some + twenty years or so; who was a diffident man, from the circumstances of his + youth; who was rather a grave man, from the tenor of his life; who knew + himself to be deficient in many little engaging qualities which he admired + in others, from having been long in a distant region, with nothing + softening near him; who had no kind sisters to present to her; who had no + congenial home to make her known in; who was a stranger in the land; who + had not a fortune to compensate, in any measure, for these defects; who + had nothing in his favour but his honest love and his general wish to do + right—suppose such a man were to come to this house, and were to + yield to the captivation of this charming girl, and were to persuade + himself that he could hope to win her; what a weakness it would be!’ + </p> + <p> + He softly opened his window, and looked out upon the serene river. Year + after year so much allowance for the drifting of the ferry-boat, so many + miles an hour the flowing of the stream, here the rushes, there the + lilies, nothing uncertain or unquiet. + </p> + <p> + Why should he be vexed or sore at heart? It was not his weakness that he + had imagined. It was nobody’s, nobody’s within his knowledge; why should + it trouble him? And yet it did trouble him. And he thought—who has + not thought for a moment, sometimes?—that it might be better to flow + away monotonously, like the river, and to compound for its insensibility + to happiness with its insensibility to pain. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0017"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 17. Nobody’s Rival + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>efore breakfast in the morning, Arthur walked out to look about him. As + the morning was fine and he had an hour on his hands, he crossed the river + by the ferry, and strolled along a footpath through some meadows. When he + came back to the towing-path, he found the ferry-boat on the opposite + side, and a gentleman hailing it and waiting to be taken over. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0189m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0189m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0189.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + This gentleman looked barely thirty. He was well dressed, of a sprightly + and gay appearance, a well-knit figure, and a rich dark complexion. As + Arthur came over the stile and down to the water’s edge, the lounger + glanced at him for a moment, and then resumed his occupation of idly + tossing stones into the water with his foot. There was something in his + way of spurning them out of their places with his heel, and getting them + into the required position, that Clennam thought had an air of cruelty in + it. Most of us have more or less frequently derived a similar impression + from a man’s manner of doing some very little thing: plucking a flower, + clearing away an obstacle, or even destroying an insentient object. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman’s thoughts were preoccupied, as his face showed, and he took + no notice of a fine Newfoundland dog, who watched him attentively, and + watched every stone too, in its turn, eager to spring into the river on + receiving his master’s sign. The ferry-boat came over, however, without + his receiving any sign, and when it grounded his master took him by the + collar and walked him into it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not this morning,’ he said to the dog. ‘You won’t do for ladies’ company, + dripping wet. Lie down.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam followed the man and the dog into the boat, and took his seat. The + dog did as he was ordered. The man remained standing, with his hands in + his pockets, and towered between Clennam and the prospect. Man and dog + both jumped lightly out as soon as they touched the other side, and went + away. Clennam was glad to be rid of them. + </p> + <p> + The church clock struck the breakfast hour as he walked up the little lane + by which the garden-gate was approached. The moment he pulled the bell a + deep loud barking assailed him from within the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard no dog last night,’ thought Clennam. The gate was opened by one + of the rosy maids, and on the lawn were the Newfoundland dog and the man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Minnie is not down yet, gentlemen,’ said the blushing portress, as + they all came together in the garden. Then she said to the master of the + dog, ‘Mr Clennam, sir,’ and tripped away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Odd enough, Mr Clennam, that we should have met just now,’ said the man. + Upon which the dog became mute. ‘Allow me to introduce myself—Henry + Gowan. A pretty place this, and looks wonderfully well this morning!’ + </p> + <p> + The manner was easy, and the voice agreeable; but still Clennam thought, + that if he had not made that decided resolution to avoid falling in love + with Pet, he would have taken a dislike to this Henry Gowan. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s new to you, I believe?’ said this Gowan, when Arthur had extolled + the place. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite new. I made acquaintance with it only yesterday afternoon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Of course this is not its best aspect. It used to look charming in + the spring, before they went away last time. I should like you to have + seen it then.’ + </p> + <p> + But for that resolution so often recalled, Clennam might have wished him + in the crater of Mount Etna, in return for this civility. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have had the pleasure of seeing it under many circumstances during the + last three years, and it’s—a Paradise.’ + </p> + <p> + It was (at least it might have been, always excepting for that wise + resolution) like his dexterous impudence to call it a Paradise. He only + called it a Paradise because he first saw her coming, and so made her out + within her hearing to be an angel, Confusion to him! + </p> + <p> + And ah! how beaming she looked, and how glad! How she caressed the dog, + and how the dog knew her! How expressive that heightened colour in her + face, that fluttered manner, her downcast eyes, her irresolute happiness! + When had Clennam seen her look like this? Not that there was any reason + why he might, could, would, or should have ever seen her look like this, + or that he had ever hoped for himself to see her look like this; but still—when + had he ever known her do it! + </p> + <p> + He stood at a little distance from them. This Gowan when he had talked + about a Paradise, had gone up to her and taken her hand. The dog had put + his great paws on her arm and laid his head against her dear bosom. She + had laughed and welcomed them, and made far too much of the dog, far, far, + too much—that is to say, supposing there had been any third person + looking on who loved her. + </p> + <p> + She disengaged herself now, and came to Clennam, and put her hand in his + and wished him good morning, and gracefully made as if she would take his + arm and be escorted into the house. To this Gowan had no objection. No, he + knew he was too safe. + </p> + <p> + There was a passing cloud on Mr Meagles’s good-humoured face when they all + three (four, counting the dog, and he was the most objectionable but one + of the party) came in to breakfast. Neither it, nor the touch of + uneasiness on Mrs Meagles as she directed her eyes towards it, was + unobserved by Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Gowan,’ said Mr Meagles, even suppressing a sigh; ‘how goes the + world with you this morning?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Much as usual, sir. Lion and I being determined not to waste anything of + our weekly visit, turned out early, and came over from Kingston, my + present headquarters, where I am making a sketch or two.’ Then he told how + he had met Mr Clennam at the ferry, and they had come over together. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Gowan is well, Henry?’ said Mrs Meagles. (Clennam became attentive.) + </p> + <p> + ‘My mother is quite well, thank you.’ (Clennam became inattentive.) ‘I + have taken the liberty of making an addition to your family dinner-party + to-day, which I hope will not be inconvenient to you or to Mr Meagles. I + couldn’t very well get out of it,’ he explained, turning to the latter. + ‘The young fellow wrote to propose himself to me; and as he is well + connected, I thought you would not object to my transferring him here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who <i>is</i> the young fellow?’ asked Mr Meagles with peculiar + complacency. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is one of the Barnacles. Tite Barnacle’s son, Clarence Barnacle, who + is in his father’s Department. I can at least guarantee that the river + shall not suffer from his visit. He won’t set it on fire.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aye, aye?’ said Meagles. ‘A Barnacle is he? <i>We</i> know something of + that family, eh, Dan? By George, they are at the top of the tree, though! + Let me see. What relation will this young fellow be to Lord Decimus now? + His Lordship married, in seventeen ninety-seven, Lady Jemima Bilberry, who + was the second daughter by the third marriage—no! There I am wrong! + That was Lady Seraphina—Lady Jemima was the first daughter by the + second marriage of the fifteenth Earl of Stiltstalking with the Honourable + Clementina Toozellem. Very well. Now this young fellow’s father married a + Stiltstalking and <i>his</i> father married his cousin who was a Barnacle. + The father of that father who married a Barnacle, married a Joddleby.—I + am getting a little too far back, Gowan; I want to make out what relation + this young fellow is to Lord Decimus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s easily stated. His father is nephew to Lord Decimus.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nephew—to—Lord—Decimus,’ Mr Meagles luxuriously + repeated with his eyes shut, that he might have nothing to distract him + from the full flavour of the genealogical tree. ‘By George, you are right, + Gowan. So he is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Consequently, Lord Decimus is his great uncle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But stop a bit!’ said Mr Meagles, opening his eyes with a fresh + discovery. ‘Then on the mother’s side, Lady Stiltstalking is his great + aunt.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course she is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aye, aye, aye?’ said Mr Meagles with much interest. ‘Indeed, indeed? We + shall be glad to see him. We’ll entertain him as well as we can, in our + humble way; and we shall not starve him, I hope, at all events.’ + </p> + <p> + In the beginning of this dialogue, Clennam had expected some great + harmless outburst from Mr Meagles, like that which had made him burst out + of the Circumlocution Office, holding Doyce by the collar. But his good + friend had a weakness which none of us need go into the next street to + find, and which no amount of Circumlocution experience could long subdue + in him. Clennam looked at Doyce; but Doyce knew all about it beforehand, + and looked at his plate, and made no sign, and said no word. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am much obliged to you,’ said Gowan, to conclude the subject. ‘Clarence + is a great ass, but he is one of the dearest and best fellows that ever + lived!’ + </p> + <p> + It appeared, before the breakfast was over, that everybody whom this Gowan + knew was either more or less of an ass, or more or less of a knave; but + was, notwithstanding, the most lovable, the most engaging, the simplest, + truest, kindest, dearest, best fellow that ever lived. The process by + which this unvarying result was attained, whatever the premises, might + have been stated by Mr Henry Gowan thus: ‘I claim to be always + book-keeping, with a peculiar nicety, in every man’s case, and posting up + a careful little account of Good and Evil with him. I do this so + conscientiously, that I am happy to tell you I find the most worthless of + men to be the dearest old fellow too: and am in a condition to make the + gratifying report, that there is much less difference than you are + inclined to suppose between an honest man and a scoundrel.’ The effect of + this cheering discovery happened to be, that while he seemed to be + scrupulously finding good in most men, he did in reality lower it where it + was, and set it up where it was not; but that was its only disagreeable or + dangerous feature. + </p> + <p> + It scarcely seemed, however, to afford Mr Meagles as much satisfaction as + the Barnacle genealogy had done. The cloud that Clennam had never seen + upon his face before that morning, frequently overcast it again; and there + was the same shadow of uneasy observation of him on the comely face of his + wife. More than once or twice when Pet caressed the dog, it appeared to + Clennam that her father was unhappy in seeing her do it; and, in one + particular instance when Gowan stood on the other side of the dog, and + bent his head at the same time, Arthur fancied that he saw tears rise to + Mr Meagles’s eyes as he hurried out of the room. It was either the fact + too, or he fancied further, that Pet herself was not insensible to these + little incidents; that she tried, with a more delicate affection than + usual, to express to her good father how much she loved him; that it was + on this account that she fell behind the rest, both as they went to church + and as they returned from it, and took his arm. He could not have sworn + but that as he walked alone in the garden afterwards, he had an + instantaneous glimpse of her in her father’s room, clinging to both her + parents with the greatest tenderness, and weeping on her father’s + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The latter part of the day turning out wet, they were fain to keep the + house, look over Mr Meagles’s collection, and beguile the time with + conversation. This Gowan had plenty to say for himself, and said it in an + off-hand and amusing manner. He appeared to be an artist by profession, + and to have been at Rome some time; yet he had a slight, careless, amateur + way with him—a perceptible limp, both in his devotion to art and his + attainments—which Clennam could scarcely understand. + </p> + <p> + He applied to Daniel Doyce for help, as they stood together, looking out + of window. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know Mr Gowan?’ he said in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have seen him here. Comes here every Sunday when they are at home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An artist, I infer from what he says?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A sort of a one,’ said Daniel Doyce, in a surly tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘What sort of a one?’ asked Clennam, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, he has sauntered into the Arts at a leisurely Pall-Mall pace,’ said + Doyce, ‘and I doubt if they care to be taken quite so coolly.’ + </p> + <p> + Pursuing his inquiries, Clennam found that the Gowan family were a very + distant ramification of the Barnacles; and that the paternal Gowan, + originally attached to a legation abroad, had been pensioned off as a + Commissioner of nothing particular somewhere or other, and had died at his + post with his drawn salary in his hand, nobly defending it to the last + extremity. In consideration of this eminent public service, the Barnacle + then in power had recommended the Crown to bestow a pension of two or + three hundred a-year on his widow; to which the next Barnacle in power had + added certain shady and sedate apartments in the Palaces at Hampton Court, + where the old lady still lived, deploring the degeneracy of the times in + company with several other old ladies of both sexes. Her son, Mr Henry + Gowan, inheriting from his father, the Commissioner, that very + questionable help in life, a very small independence, had been difficult + to settle; the rather, as public appointments chanced to be scarce, and + his genius, during his earlier manhood, was of that exclusively + agricultural character which applies itself to the cultivation of wild + oats. At last he had declared that he would become a Painter; partly + because he had always had an idle knack that way, and partly to grieve the + souls of the Barnacles-in-chief who had not provided for him. So it had + come to pass successively, first, that several distinguished ladies had + been frightfully shocked; then, that portfolios of his performances had + been handed about o’ nights, and declared with ecstasy to be perfect + Claudes, perfect Cuyps, perfect phaenomena; then, that Lord Decimus had + bought his picture, and had asked the President and Council to dinner at a + blow, and had said, with his own magnificent gravity, ‘Do you know, there + appears to me to be really immense merit in that work?’ and, in short, + that people of condition had absolutely taken pains to bring him into + fashion. But, somehow, it had all failed. The prejudiced public had stood + out against it obstinately. They had determined not to admire Lord + Decimus’s picture. They had determined to believe that in every service, + except their own, a man must qualify himself, by striving early and late, + and by working heart and soul, might and main. So now Mr Gowan, like that + worn-out old coffin which never was Mahomet’s nor anybody else’s, hung + midway between two points: jaundiced and jealous as to the one he had + left: jaundiced and jealous as to the other that he couldn’t reach. + </p> + <p> + Such was the substance of Clennam’s discoveries concerning him, made that + rainy Sunday afternoon and afterwards. + </p> + <p> + About an hour or so after dinner time, Young Barnacle appeared, attended + by his eye-glass; in honour of whose family connections, Mr Meagles had + cashiered the pretty parlour-maids for the day, and had placed on duty in + their stead two dingy men. Young Barnacle was in the last degree amazed + and disconcerted at sight of Arthur, and had murmured involuntarily, ‘Look + here! upon my soul, you know!’ before his presence of mind returned. + </p> + <p> + Even then, he was obliged to embrace the earliest opportunity of taking + his friend into a window, and saying, in a nasal way that was a part of + his general debility: + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to speak to you, Gowan. I say. Look here. Who is that fellow?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A friend of our host’s. None of mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a most ferocious Radical, you know,’ said Young Barnacle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is he? How do you know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ecod, sir, he was Pitching into our people the other day in the most + tremendous manner. Went up to our place and Pitched into my father to that + extent that it was necessary to order him out. Came back to our + Department, and Pitched into me. Look here. You never saw such a fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What did he want?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ecod, sir,’ returned Young Barnacle, ‘he said he wanted to know, you + know! Pervaded our Department—without an appointment—and said + he wanted to know!’ + </p> + <p> + The stare of indignant wonder with which Young Barnacle accompanied this + disclosure, would have strained his eyes injuriously but for the opportune + relief of dinner. Mr Meagles (who had been extremely solicitous to know + how his uncle and aunt were) begged him to conduct Mrs Meagles to the + dining-room. And when he sat on Mrs Meagles’s right hand, Mr Meagles + looked as gratified as if his whole family were there. + </p> + <p> + All the natural charm of the previous day was gone. The eaters of the + dinner, like the dinner itself, were lukewarm, insipid, overdone—and + all owing to this poor little dull Young Barnacle. Conversationless at any + time, he was now the victim of a weakness special to the occasion, and + solely referable to Clennam. He was under a pressing and continual + necessity of looking at that gentleman, which occasioned his eye-glass to + get into his soup, into his wine-glass, into Mrs Meagles’s plate, to hang + down his back like a bell-rope, and be several times disgracefully + restored to his bosom by one of the dingy men. Weakened in mind by his + frequent losses of this instrument, and its determination not to stick in + his eye, and more and more enfeebled in intellect every time he looked at + the mysterious Clennam, he applied spoons to his eyes, forks, and other + foreign matters connected with the furniture of the dinner-table. His + discovery of these mistakes greatly increased his difficulties, but never + released him from the necessity of looking at Clennam. And whenever + Clennam spoke, this ill-starred young man was clearly seized with a dread + that he was coming, by some artful device, round to that point of wanting + to know, you know. + </p> + <p> + It may be questioned, therefore, whether any one but Mr Meagles had much + enjoyment of the time. Mr Meagles, however, thoroughly enjoyed Young + Barnacle. As a mere flask of the golden water in the tale became a full + fountain when it was poured out, so Mr Meagles seemed to feel that this + small spice of Barnacle imparted to his table the flavour of the whole + family-tree. In its presence, his frank, fine, genuine qualities paled; he + was not so easy, he was not so natural, he was striving after something + that did not belong to him, he was not himself. What a strange peculiarity + on the part of Mr Meagles, and where should we find another such case! + </p> + <p> + At last the wet Sunday wore itself out in a wet night; and Young Barnacle + went home in a cab, feebly smoking; and the objectionable Gowan went away + on foot, accompanied by the objectionable dog. Pet had taken the most + amiable pains all day to be friendly with Clennam, but Clennam had been a + little reserved since breakfast—that is to say, would have been, if + he had loved her. + </p> + <p> + When he had gone to his own room, and had again thrown himself into the + chair by the fire, Mr Doyce knocked at the door, candle in hand, to ask + him how and at what hour he proposed returning on the morrow? After + settling this question, he said a word to Mr Doyce about this Gowan—who + would have run in his head a good deal, if he had been his rival. + </p> + <p> + ‘Those are not good prospects for a painter,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ returned Doyce. + </p> + <p> + Mr Doyce stood, chamber-candlestick in hand, the other hand in his pocket, + looking hard at the flame of his candle, with a certain quiet perception + in his face that they were going to say something more. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought our good friend a little changed, and out of spirits, after he + came this morning?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ returned Doyce. + </p> + <p> + ‘But not his daughter?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Doyce. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause on both sides. Mr Doyce, still looking at the flame of + his candle, slowly resumed: + </p> + <p> + ‘The truth is, he has twice taken his daughter abroad in the hope of + separating her from Mr Gowan. He rather thinks she is disposed to like + him, and he has painful doubts (I quite agree with him, as I dare say you + do) of the hopefulness of such a marriage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There—’ Clennam choked, and coughed, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, you have taken cold,’ said Daniel Doyce. But without looking at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘—There is an engagement between them, of course?’ said Clennam + airily. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. As I am told, certainly not. It has been solicited on the gentleman’s + part, but none has been made. Since their recent return, our friend has + yielded to a weekly visit, but that is the utmost. Minnie would not + deceive her father and mother. You have travelled with them, and I believe + you know what a bond there is among them, extending even beyond this + present life. All that there is between Miss Minnie and Mr Gowan, I have + no doubt we see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! We see enough!’ cried Arthur. + </p> + <p> + Mr Doyce wished him Good Night in the tone of a man who had heard a + mournful, not to say despairing, exclamation, and who sought to infuse + some encouragement and hope into the mind of the person by whom it had + been uttered. Such tone was probably a part of his oddity, as one of a + crotchety band; for how could he have heard anything of that kind, without + Clennam’s hearing it too? + </p> + <p> + The rain fell heavily on the roof, and pattered on the ground, and dripped + among the evergreens and the leafless branches of the trees. The rain fell + heavily, drearily. It was a night of tears. + </p> + <p> + If Clennam had not decided against falling in love with Pet; if he had had + the weakness to do it; if he had, little by little, persuaded himself to + set all the earnestness of his nature, all the might of his hope, and all + the wealth of his matured character, on that cast; if he had done this and + found that all was lost; he would have been, that night, unutterably + miserable. As it was— + </p> + <p> + As it was, the rain fell heavily, drearily. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0018"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 18. Little Dorrit’s Lover + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ittle Dorrit had not attained her twenty-second birthday without finding + a lover. Even in the shallow Marshalsea, the ever young Archer shot off a + few featherless arrows now and then from a mouldy bow, and winged a + Collegian or two. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s lover, however, was not a Collegian. He was the + sentimental son of a turnkey. His father hoped, in the fulness of time, to + leave him the inheritance of an unstained key; and had from his early + youth familiarised him with the duties of his office, and with an ambition + to retain the prison-lock in the family. While the succession was yet in + abeyance, he assisted his mother in the conduct of a snug tobacco business + round the corner of Horsemonger Lane (his father being a non-resident + turnkey), which could usually command a neat connection within the College + walls. + </p> + <p> + Years agone, when the object of his affections was wont to sit in her + little arm-chair by the high Lodge-fender, Young John (family name, + Chivery), a year older than herself, had eyed her with admiring wonder. + When he had played with her in the yard, his favourite game had been to + counterfeit locking her up in corners, and to counterfeit letting her out + for real kisses. When he grew tall enough to peep through the keyhole of + the great lock of the main door, he had divers times set down his father’s + dinner, or supper, to get on as it might on the outer side thereof, while + he stood taking cold in one eye by dint of peeping at her through that + airy perspective. + </p> + <p> + If Young John had ever slackened in his truth in the less penetrable days + of his boyhood, when youth is prone to wear its boots unlaced and is + happily unconscious of digestive organs, he had soon strung it up again + and screwed it tight. At nineteen, his hand had inscribed in chalk on that + part of the wall which fronted her lodgings, on the occasion of her + birthday, ‘Welcome sweet nursling of the Fairies!’ At twenty-three, the + same hand falteringly presented cigars on Sundays to the Father of the + Marshalsea, and Father of the queen of his soul. + </p> + <p> + Young John was small of stature, with rather weak legs and very weak light + hair. One of his eyes (perhaps the eye that used to peep through the + keyhole) was also weak, and looked larger than the other, as if it + couldn’t collect itself. Young John was gentle likewise. But he was great + of soul. Poetical, expansive, faithful. + </p> + <p> + Though too humble before the ruler of his heart to be sanguine, Young John + had considered the object of his attachment in all its lights and shades. + Following it out to blissful results, he had descried, without + self-commendation, a fitness in it. Say things prospered, and they were + united. She, the child of the Marshalsea; he, the lock-keeper. There was a + fitness in that. Say he became a resident turnkey. She would officially + succeed to the chamber she had rented so long. There was a beautiful + propriety in that. It looked over the wall, if you stood on tip-toe; and, + with a trellis-work of scarlet beans and a canary or so, would become a + very Arbour. There was a charming idea in that. Then, being all in all to + one another, there was even an appropriate grace in the lock. With the + world shut out (except that part of it which would be shut in); with its + troubles and disturbances only known to them by hearsay, as they would be + described by the pilgrims tarrying with them on their way to the Insolvent + Shrine; with the Arbour above, and the Lodge below; they would glide down + the stream of time, in pastoral domestic happiness. Young John drew tears + from his eyes by finishing the picture with a tombstone in the adjoining + churchyard, close against the prison wall, bearing the following touching + inscription: ‘Sacred to the Memory Of JOHN CHIVERY, Sixty years Turnkey, + and fifty years Head Turnkey, Of the neighbouring Marshalsea, Who departed + this life, universally respected, on the thirty-first of December, One + thousand eight hundred and eighty-six, Aged eighty-three years. Also of + his truly beloved and truly loving wife, AMY, whose maiden name was + DORRIT, Who survived his loss not quite forty-eight hours, And who + breathed her last in the Marshalsea aforesaid. There she was born, There + she lived, There she died.’ + </p> + <p> + The Chivery parents were not ignorant of their son’s attachment—indeed + it had, on some exceptional occasions, thrown him into a state of mind + that had impelled him to conduct himself with irascibility towards the + customers, and damage the business—but they, in their turns, had + worked it out to desirable conclusions. Mrs Chivery, a prudent woman, had + desired her husband to take notice that their John’s prospects of the Lock + would certainly be strengthened by an alliance with Miss Dorrit, who had + herself a kind of claim upon the College and was much respected there. Mrs + Chivery had desired her husband to take notice that if, on the one hand, + their John had means and a post of trust, on the other hand, Miss Dorrit + had family; and that her (Mrs Chivery’s) sentiment was, that two halves + made a whole. Mrs Chivery, speaking as a mother and not as a diplomatist, + had then, from a different point of view, desired her husband to recollect + that their John had never been strong, and that his love had fretted and + worrited him enough as it was, without his being driven to do himself a + mischief, as nobody couldn’t say he wouldn’t be if he was crossed. These + arguments had so powerfully influenced the mind of Mr Chivery, who was a + man of few words, that he had on sundry Sunday mornings, given his boy + what he termed ‘a lucky touch,’ signifying that he considered such + commendation of him to Good Fortune, preparatory to his that day declaring + his passion and becoming triumphant. But Young John had never taken + courage to make the declaration; and it was principally on these occasions + that he had returned excited to the tobacco shop, and flown at the + customers. + </p> + <p> + In this affair, as in every other, Little Dorrit herself was the last + person considered. Her brother and sister were aware of it, and attained a + sort of station by making a peg of it on which to air the miserably ragged + old fiction of the family gentility. Her sister asserted the family + gentility by flouting the poor swain as he loitered about the prison for + glimpses of his dear. Tip asserted the family gentility, and his own, by + coming out in the character of the aristocratic brother, and loftily + swaggering in the little skittle ground respecting seizures by the scruff + of the neck, which there were looming probabilities of some gentleman + unknown executing on some little puppy not mentioned. These were not the + only members of the Dorrit family who turned it to account. No, no. The + Father of the Marshalsea was supposed to know nothing about the matter, of + course: his poor dignity could not see so low. But he took the cigars, on + Sundays, and was glad to get them; and sometimes even condescended to walk + up and down the yard with the donor (who was proud and hopeful then), and + benignantly to smoke one in his society. With no less readiness and + condescension did he receive attentions from Chivery Senior, who always + relinquished his arm-chair and newspaper to him, when he came into the + Lodge during one of his spells of duty; and who had even mentioned to him, + that, if he would like at any time after dusk quietly to step out into the + fore-court and take a look at the street, there was not much to prevent + him. If he did not avail himself of this latter civility, it was only + because he had lost the relish for it; inasmuch as he took everything else + he could get, and would say at times, ‘Extremely civil person, Chivery; + very attentive man and very respectful. Young Chivery, too; really almost + with a delicate perception of one’s position here. A very well conducted + family indeed, the Chiveries. Their behaviour gratifies me.’ + </p> + <p> + The devoted Young John all this time regarded the family with reverence. + He never dreamed of disputing their pretensions, but did homage to the + miserable Mumbo jumbo they paraded. As to resenting any affront from <i>her</i> + brother, he would have felt, even if he had not naturally been of a most + pacific disposition, that to wag his tongue or lift his hand against that + sacred gentleman would be an unhallowed act. He was sorry that his noble + mind should take offence; still, he felt the fact to be not incompatible + with its nobility, and sought to propitiate and conciliate that gallant + soul. Her father, a gentleman in misfortune—a gentleman of a fine + spirit and courtly manners, who always bore with him—he deeply + honoured. Her sister he considered somewhat vain and proud, but a young + lady of infinite accomplishments, who could not forget the past. It was an + instinctive testimony to Little Dorrit’s worth and difference from all the + rest, that the poor young fellow honoured and loved her for being simply + what she was. + </p> + <p> + The tobacco business round the corner of Horsemonger Lane was carried out + in a rural establishment one story high, which had the benefit of the air + from the yards of Horsemonger Lane jail, and the advantage of a retired + walk under the wall of that pleasant establishment. The business was of + too modest a character to support a life-size Highlander, but it + maintained a little one on a bracket on the door-post, who looked like a + fallen Cherub that had found it necessary to take to a kilt. + </p> + <p> + From the portal thus decorated, one Sunday after an early dinner of baked + viands, Young John issued forth on his usual Sunday errand; not + empty-handed, but with his offering of cigars. He was neatly attired in a + plum-coloured coat, with as large a collar of black velvet as his figure + could carry; a silken waistcoat, bedecked with golden sprigs; a chaste + neckerchief much in vogue at that day, representing a preserve of lilac + pheasants on a buff ground; pantaloons so highly decorated with + side-stripes that each leg was a three-stringed lute; and a hat of state + very high and hard. When the prudent Mrs Chivery perceived that in + addition to these adornments her John carried a pair of white kid gloves, + and a cane like a little finger-post, surmounted by an ivory hand + marshalling him the way that he should go; and when she saw him, in this + heavy marching order, turn the corner to the right; she remarked to Mr + Chivery, who was at home at the time, that she thought she knew which way + the wind blew. + </p> + <p> + The Collegians were entertaining a considerable number of visitors that + Sunday afternoon, and their Father kept his room for the purpose of + receiving presentations. After making the tour of the yard, Little + Dorrit’s lover with a hurried heart went up-stairs, and knocked with his + knuckles at the Father’s door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, come in!’ said a gracious voice. The Father’s voice, her + father’s, the Marshalsea’s father’s. He was seated in his black velvet + cap, with his newspaper, three-and-sixpence accidentally left on the + table, and two chairs arranged. Everything prepared for holding his Court. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, Young John! How do you do, how do you do!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty well, I thank you, sir. I hope you are the same.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, John Chivery; yes. Nothing to complain of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have taken the liberty, sir, of—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh?’ The Father of the Marshalsea always lifted up his eyebrows at this + point, and became amiably distraught and smilingly absent in mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘—A few cigars, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ (For the moment, excessively surprised.) ‘Thank you, Young John, + thank you. But really, I am afraid I am too—No? Well then, I will + say no more about it. Put them on the mantelshelf, if you please, Young + John. And sit down, sit down. You are not a stranger, John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir, I am sure—Miss;’ here Young John turned the great + hat round and round upon his left-hand, like a slowly twirling mouse-cage; + ‘Miss Amy quite well, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, John, yes; very well. She is out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, John. Miss Amy is gone for an airing. My young people all go out a + good deal. But at their time of life, it’s natural, John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very much so, I am sure, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An airing. An airing. Yes.’ He was blandly tapping his fingers on the + table, and casting his eyes up at the window. ‘Amy has gone for an airing + on the Iron Bridge. She has become quite partial to the Iron Bridge of + late, and seems to like to walk there better than anywhere.’ He returned + to conversation. ‘Your father is not on duty at present, I think, John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, he comes on later in the afternoon.’ Another twirl of the great + hat, and then Young John said, rising, ‘I am afraid I must wish you good + day, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So soon? Good day, Young John. Nay, nay,’ with the utmost condescension, + ‘never mind your glove, John. Shake hands with it on. You are no stranger + here, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + Highly gratified by the kindness of his reception, Young John descended + the staircase. On his way down he met some Collegians bringing up visitors + to be presented, and at that moment Mr Dorrit happened to call over the + banisters with particular distinctness, ‘Much obliged to you for your + little testimonial, John!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s lover very soon laid down his penny on the tollplate of + the Iron Bridge, and came upon it looking about him for the well-known and + well-beloved figure. At first he feared she was not there; but as he + walked on towards the Middlesex side, he saw her standing still, looking + at the water. She was absorbed in thought, and he wondered what she might + be thinking about. There were the piles of city roofs and chimneys, more + free from smoke than on week-days; and there were the distant masts and + steeples. Perhaps she was thinking about them. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit mused so long, and was so entirely preoccupied, that + although her lover stood quiet for what he thought was a long time, and + twice or thrice retired and came back again to the former spot, still she + did not move. So, in the end, he made up his mind to go on, and seem to + come upon her casually in passing, and speak to her. The place was quiet, + and now or never was the time to speak to her. + </p> + <p> + He walked on, and she did not appear to hear his steps until he was close + upon her. When he said ‘Miss Dorrit!’ she started and fell back from him, + with an expression in her face of fright and something like dislike that + caused him unutterable dismay. She had often avoided him before—always, + indeed, for a long, long while. She had turned away and glided off so + often when she had seen him coming toward her, that the unfortunate Young + John could not think it accidental. But he had hoped that it might be + shyness, her retiring character, her foreknowledge of the state of his + heart, anything short of aversion. Now, that momentary look had said, + ‘You, of all people! I would rather have seen any one on earth than you!’ + </p> + <p> + It was but a momentary look, inasmuch as she checked it, and said in her + soft little voice, ‘Oh, Mr John! Is it you?’ But she felt what it had + been, as he felt what it had been; and they stood looking at one another + equally confused. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Amy, I am afraid I disturbed you by speaking to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, rather. I—I came here to be alone, and I thought I was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Amy, I took the liberty of walking this way, because Mr Dorrit + chanced to mention, when I called upon him just now, that you—’ + </p> + <p> + She caused him more dismay than before by suddenly murmuring, ‘O father, + father!’ in a heartrending tone, and turning her face away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Amy, I hope I don’t give you any uneasiness by naming Mr Dorrit. I + assure you I found him very well and in the best of Spirits, and he showed + me even more than his usual kindness; being so very kind as to say that I + was not a stranger there, and in all ways gratifying me very much.’ + </p> + <p> + To the inexpressible consternation of her lover, Little Dorrit, with her + hands to her averted face, and rocking herself where she stood as if she + were in pain, murmured, ‘O father, how can you! O dear, dear father, how + can you, can you, do it!’ + </p> + <p> + The poor fellow stood gazing at her, overflowing with sympathy, but not + knowing what to make of this, until, having taken out her handkerchief and + put it to her still averted face, she hurried away. At first he remained + stock still; then hurried after her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Amy, pray! Will you have the goodness to stop a moment? Miss Amy, if + it comes to that, let <i>me</i> go. I shall go out of my senses, if I have + to think that I have driven you away like this.’ + </p> + <p> + His trembling voice and unfeigned earnestness brought Little Dorrit to a + stop. ‘Oh, I don’t know what to do,’ she cried, ‘I don’t know what to do!’ + </p> + <p> + To Young John, who had never seen her bereft of her quiet self-command, + who had seen her from her infancy ever so reliable and self-suppressed, + there was a shock in her distress, and in having to associate himself with + it as its cause, that shook him from his great hat to the pavement. He + felt it necessary to explain himself. He might be misunderstood—supposed + to mean something, or to have done something, that had never entered into + his imagination. He begged her to hear him explain himself, as the + greatest favour she could show him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Amy, I know very well that your family is far above mine. It were + vain to conceal it. There never was a Chivery a gentleman that ever I + heard of, and I will not commit the meanness of making a false + representation on a subject so momentous. Miss Amy, I know very well that + your high-souled brother, and likewise your spirited sister, spurn me from + a height. What I have to do is to respect them, to wish to be admitted to + their friendship, to look up at the eminence on which they are placed from + my lowlier station—for, whether viewed as tobacco or viewed as the + lock, I well know it is lowly—and ever wish them well and happy.’ + </p> + <p> + There really was a genuineness in the poor fellow, and a contrast between + the hardness of his hat and the softness of his heart (albeit, perhaps, of + his head, too), that was moving. Little Dorrit entreated him to disparage + neither himself nor his station, and, above all things, to divest himself + of any idea that she supposed hers to be superior. This gave him a little + comfort. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Amy,’ he then stammered, ‘I have had for a long time—ages they + seem to me—Revolving ages—a heart-cherished wish to say + something to you. May I say it?’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit involuntarily started from his side again, with the faintest + shadow of her former look; conquering that, she went on at great speed + half across the Bridge without replying! + </p> + <p> + ‘May I—Miss Amy, I but ask the question humbly—may I say it? I + have been so unlucky already in giving you pain without having any such + intentions, before the holy Heavens! that there is no fear of my saying it + unless I have your leave. I can be miserable alone, I can be cut up by + myself, why should I also make miserable and cut up one that I would fling + myself off that parapet to give half a moment’s joy to! Not that that’s + much to do, for I’d do it for twopence.’ + </p> + <p> + The mournfulness of his spirits, and the gorgeousness of his appearance, + might have made him ridiculous, but that his delicacy made him + respectable. Little Dorrit learnt from it what to do. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you please, John Chivery,’ she returned, trembling, but in a quiet + way, ‘since you are so considerate as to ask me whether you shall say any + more—if you please, no.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never, Miss Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, if you please. Never.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O Lord!’ gasped Young John. + </p> + <p> + ‘But perhaps you will let me, instead, say something to you. I want to say + it earnestly, and with as plain a meaning as it is possible to express. + When you think of us, John—I mean my brother, and sister, and me—don’t + think of us as being any different from the rest; for, whatever we once + were (which I hardly know) we ceased to be long ago, and never can be any + more. It will be much better for you, and much better for others, if you + will do that instead of what you are doing now.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John dolefully protested that he would try to bear it in mind, and + would be heartily glad to do anything she wished. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to me,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘think as little of me as you can; the + less, the better. When you think of me at all, John, let it only be as the + child you have seen grow up in the prison with one set of duties always + occupying her; as a weak, retired, contented, unprotected girl. I + particularly want you to remember, that when I come outside the gate, I am + unprotected and solitary.’ + </p> + <p> + He would try to do anything she wished. But why did Miss Amy so much want + him to remember that? + </p> + <p> + ‘Because,’ returned Little Dorrit, ‘I know I can then quite trust you not + to forget to-day, and not to say any more to me. You are so generous that + I know I can trust to you for that; and I do and I always will. I am going + to show you, at once, that I fully trust you. I like this place where we + are speaking better than any place I know;’ her slight colour had faded, + but her lover thought he saw it coming back just then; ‘and I may be often + here. I know it is only necessary for me to tell you so, to be quite sure + that you will never come here again in search of me. And I am—quite + sure!’ + </p> + <p> + She might rely upon it, said Young John. He was a miserable wretch, but + her word was more than a law for him. + </p> + <p> + ‘And good-bye, John,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘And I hope you will have a good + wife one day, and be a happy man. I am sure you will deserve to be happy, + and you will be, John.’ + </p> + <p> + As she held out her hand to him with these words, the heart that was under + the waistcoat of sprigs—mere slop-work, if the truth must be known—swelled + to the size of the heart of a gentleman; and the poor common little + fellow, having no room to hold it, burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, don’t cry,’ said Little Dorrit piteously. ‘Don’t, don’t! Good-bye, + John. God bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-bye, Miss Amy. Good-bye!’ + </p> + <p> + And so he left her: first observing that she sat down on the corner of a + seat, and not only rested her little hand upon the rough wall, but laid + her face against it too, as if her head were heavy, and her mind were sad. + </p> + <p> + It was an affecting illustration of the fallacy of human projects, to + behold her lover, with the great hat pulled over his eyes, the velvet + collar turned up as if it rained, the plum-coloured coat buttoned to + conceal the silken waistcoat of golden sprigs, and the little + direction-post pointing inexorably home, creeping along by the worst + back-streets, and composing, as he went, the following new inscription for + a tombstone in St George’s Churchyard: + </p> + <p> + ‘Here lie the mortal remains Of JOHN CHIVERY, Never anything worth + mentioning, Who died about the end of the year one thousand eight hundred + and twenty-six, Of a broken heart, Requesting with his last breath that + the word AMY might be inscribed over his ashes, which was accordingly + directed to be done, By his afflicted Parents.’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0019"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 19. The Father of the Marshalsea in two or three Relations + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he brothers William and Frederick Dorrit, walking up and down the + College-yard—of course on the aristocratic or Pump side, for the + Father made it a point of his state to be chary of going among his + children on the Poor side, except on Sunday mornings, Christmas Days, and + other occasions of ceremony, in the observance whereof he was very + punctual, and at which times he laid his hand upon the heads of their + infants, and blessed those young insolvents with a benignity that was + highly edifying—the brothers, walking up and down the College-yard + together, were a memorable sight. Frederick the free, was so humbled, + bowed, withered, and faded; William the bond, was so courtly, + condescending, and benevolently conscious of a position; that in this + regard only, if in no other, the brothers were a spectacle to wonder at. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0206m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0206m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0206.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + They walked up and down the yard on the evening of Little Dorrit’s Sunday + interview with her lover on the Iron Bridge. The cares of state were over + for that day, the Drawing Room had been well attended, several new + presentations had taken place, the three-and-sixpence accidentally left on + the table had accidentally increased to twelve shillings, and the Father + of the Marshalsea refreshed himself with a whiff of cigar. As he walked up + and down, affably accommodating his step to the shuffle of his brother, + not proud in his superiority, but considerate of that poor creature, + bearing with him, and breathing toleration of his infirmities in every + little puff of smoke that issued from his lips and aspired to get over the + spiked wall, he was a sight to wonder at. + </p> + <p> + His brother Frederick of the dim eye, palsied hand, bent form, and groping + mind, submissively shuffled at his side, accepting his patronage as he + accepted every incident of the labyrinthian world in which he had got + lost. He held the usual screwed bit of whitey-brown paper in his hand, + from which he ever and again unscrewed a spare pinch of snuff. That + falteringly taken, he would glance at his brother not unadmiringly, put + his hands behind him, and shuffle on so at his side until he took another + pinch, or stood still to look about him—perchance suddenly missing + his clarionet. + </p> + <p> + The College visitors were melting away as the shades of night drew on, but + the yard was still pretty full, the Collegians being mostly out, seeing + their friends to the Lodge. As the brothers paced the yard, William the + bond looked about him to receive salutes, returned them by graciously + lifting off his hat, and, with an engaging air, prevented Frederick the + free from running against the company, or being jostled against the wall. + The Collegians as a body were not easily impressible, but even they, + according to their various ways of wondering, appeared to find in the two + brothers a sight to wonder at. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a little low this evening, Frederick,’ said the Father of the + Marshalsea. ‘Anything the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The matter?’ He stared for a moment, and then dropped his head and eyes + again. ‘No, William, no. Nothing is the matter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you could be persuaded to smarten yourself up a little, Frederick—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aye, aye!’ said the old man hurriedly. ‘But I can’t be. I can’t be. Don’t + talk so. That’s all over.’ + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea glanced at a passing Collegian with whom he + was on friendly terms, as who should say, ‘An enfeebled old man, this; but + he is my brother, sir, my brother, and the voice of Nature is potent!’ and + steered his brother clear of the handle of the pump by the threadbare + sleeve. Nothing would have been wanting to the perfection of his character + as a fraternal guide, philosopher and friend, if he had only steered his + brother clear of ruin, instead of bringing it upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, William,’ said the object of his affectionate consideration, + ‘that I am tired, and will go home to bed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Frederick,’ returned the other, ‘don’t let me detain you; don’t + sacrifice your inclination to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Late hours, and a heated atmosphere, and years, I suppose,’ said + Frederick, ‘weaken me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Frederick,’ returned the Father of the Marshalsea, ‘do you think + you are sufficiently careful of yourself? Do you think your habits are as + precise and methodical as—shall I say as mine are? Not to revert + again to that little eccentricity which I mentioned just now, I doubt if + you take air and exercise enough, Frederick. Here is the parade, always at + your service. Why not use it more regularly than you do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ sighed the other. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is of no use saying yes, yes, my dear Frederick,’ the Father of + the Marshalsea in his mild wisdom persisted, ‘unless you act on that + assent. Consider my case, Frederick. I am a kind of example. Necessity and + time have taught me what to do. At certain stated hours of the day, you + will find me on the parade, in my room, in the Lodge, reading the paper, + receiving company, eating and drinking. I have impressed upon Amy during + many years, that I must have my meals (for instance) punctually. Amy has + grown up in a sense of the importance of these arrangements, and you know + what a good girl she is.’ + </p> + <p> + The brother only sighed again, as he plodded dreamily along, ‘Hah! Yes, + yes, yes, yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear fellow,’ said the Father of the Marshalsea, laying his hand upon + his shoulder, and mildly rallying him—mildly, because of his + weakness, poor dear soul; ‘you said that before, and it does not express + much, Frederick, even if it means much. I wish I could rouse you, my good + Frederick; you want to be roused.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, William, yes. No doubt,’ returned the other, lifting his dim eyes to + his face. ‘But I am not like you.’ + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea said, with a shrug of modest + self-depreciation, ‘Oh! You might be like me, my dear Frederick; you might + be, if you chose!’ and forbore, in the magnanimity of his strength, to + press his fallen brother further. + </p> + <p> + There was a great deal of leave-taking going on in corners, as was usual + on Sunday nights; and here and there in the dark, some poor woman, wife or + mother, was weeping with a new Collegian. The time had been when the + Father himself had wept, in the shades of that yard, as his own poor wife + had wept. But it was many years ago; and now he was like a passenger + aboard ship in a long voyage, who has recovered from sea-sickness, and is + impatient of that weakness in the fresher passengers taken aboard at the + last port. He was inclined to remonstrate, and to express his opinion that + people who couldn’t get on without crying, had no business there. In + manner, if not in words, he always testified his displeasure at these + interruptions of the general harmony; and it was so well understood, that + delinquents usually withdrew if they were aware of him. + </p> + <p> + On this Sunday evening, he accompanied his brother to the gate with an air + of endurance and clemency; being in a bland temper and graciously disposed + to overlook the tears. In the flaring gaslight of the Lodge, several + Collegians were basking; some taking leave of visitors, and some who had + no visitors, watching the frequent turning of the key, and conversing with + one another and with Mr Chivery. The paternal entrance made a sensation of + course; and Mr Chivery, touching his hat (in a short manner though) with + his key, hoped he found himself tolerable. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, Chivery, quite well. And you?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Chivery said in a low growl, ‘Oh! <i>he</i> was all right.’ Which was + his general way of acknowledging inquiries after his health when a little + sullen. + </p> + <p> + ‘I had a visit from Young John to-day, Chivery. And very smart he looked, + I assure you.’ + </p> + <p> + So Mr Chivery had heard. Mr Chivery must confess, however, that his wish + was that the boy didn’t lay out so much money upon it. For what did it + bring him in? It only brought him in wexation. And he could get that + anywhere for nothing. + </p> + <p> + ‘How vexation, Chivery?’ asked the benignant father. + </p> + <p> + ‘No odds,’ returned Mr Chivery. ‘Never mind. Mr Frederick going out?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Chivery, my brother is going home to bed. He is tired, and not quite + well. Take care, Frederick, take care. Good night, my dear Frederick!’ + </p> + <p> + Shaking hands with his brother, and touching his greasy hat to the company + in the Lodge, Frederick slowly shuffled out of the door which Mr Chivery + unlocked for him. The Father of the Marshalsea showed the amiable + solicitude of a superior being that he should come to no harm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be so kind as to keep the door open a moment, Chivery, that I may see him + go along the passage and down the steps. Take care, Frederick! (He is very + infirm.) Mind the steps! (He is so very absent.) Be careful how you cross, + Frederick. (I really don’t like the notion of his going wandering at + large, he is so extremely liable to be run over.)’ + </p> + <p> + With these words, and with a face expressive of many uneasy doubts and + much anxious guardianship, he turned his regards upon the assembled + company in the Lodge: so plainly indicating that his brother was to be + pitied for not being under lock and key, that an opinion to that effect + went round among the Collegians assembled. + </p> + <p> + But he did not receive it with unqualified assent; on the contrary, he + said, No, gentlemen, no; let them not misunderstand him. His brother + Frederick was much broken, no doubt, and it might be more comfortable to + himself (the Father of the Marshalsea) to know that he was safe within the + walls. Still, it must be remembered that to support an existence there + during many years, required a certain combination of qualities—he + did not say high qualities, but qualities—moral qualities. Now, had + his brother Frederick that peculiar union of qualities? Gentlemen, he was + a most excellent man, a most gentle, tender, and estimable man, with the + simplicity of a child; but would he, though unsuited for most other + places, do for that place? No; he said confidently, no! And, he said, + Heaven forbid that Frederick should be there in any other character than + in his present voluntary character! Gentlemen, whoever came to that + College, to remain there a length of time, must have strength of character + to go through a good deal and to come out of a good deal. Was his beloved + brother Frederick that man? No. They saw him, even as it was, crushed. + Misfortune crushed him. He had not power of recoil enough, not elasticity + enough, to be a long time in such a place, and yet preserve his + self-respect and feel conscious that he was a gentleman. Frederick had not + (if he might use the expression) Power enough to see in any delicate + little attentions and—and—Testimonials that he might under + such circumstances receive, the goodness of human nature, the fine spirit + animating the Collegians as a community, and at the same time no + degradation to himself, and no depreciation of his claims as a gentleman. + Gentlemen, God bless you! + </p> + <p> + Such was the homily with which he improved and pointed the occasion to the + company in the Lodge before turning into the sallow yard again, and going + with his own poor shabby dignity past the Collegian in the dressing-gown + who had no coat, and past the Collegian in the sea-side slippers who had + no shoes, and past the stout greengrocer Collegian in the corduroy + knee-breeches who had no cares, and past the lean clerk Collegian in + buttonless black who had no hopes, up his own poor shabby staircase to his + own poor shabby room. + </p> + <p> + There, the table was laid for his supper, and his old grey gown was ready + for him on his chair-back at the fire. His daughter put her little + prayer-book in her pocket—had she been praying for pity on all + prisoners and captives!—and rose to welcome him. + </p> + <p> + Uncle had gone home, then? she asked him, as she changed his coat and gave + him his black velvet cap. Yes, uncle had gone home. Had her father enjoyed + his walk? Why, not much, Amy; not much. No! Did he not feel quite well? + </p> + <p> + As she stood behind him, leaning over his chair so lovingly, he looked + with downcast eyes at the fire. An uneasiness stole over him that was like + a touch of shame; and when he spoke, as he presently did, it was in an + unconnected and embarrassed manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘Something, I—hem!—I don’t know what, has gone wrong with + Chivery. He is not—ha!—not nearly so obliging and attentive as + usual to-night. It—hem!—it’s a little thing, but it puts me + out, my love. It’s impossible to forget,’ turning his hands over and over + and looking closely at them, ‘that—hem!—that in such a life as + mine, I am unfortunately dependent on these men for something every hour + in the day.’ + </p> + <p> + Her arm was on his shoulder, but she did not look in his face while he + spoke. Bending her head she looked another way. + </p> + <p> + ‘I—hem!—I can’t think, Amy, what has given Chivery offence. He + is generally so—so very attentive and respectful. And to-night he + was quite—quite short with me. Other people there too! Why, good + Heaven! if I was to lose the support and recognition of Chivery and his + brother officers, I might starve to death here.’ While he spoke, he was + opening and shutting his hands like valves; so conscious all the time of + that touch of shame, that he shrunk before his own knowledge of his + meaning. + </p> + <p> + ‘I—ha!—I can’t think what it’s owing to. I am sure I cannot + imagine what the cause of it is. There was a certain Jackson here once, a + turnkey of the name of Jackson (I don’t think you can remember him, my + dear, you were very young), and—hem!—and he had a—brother, + and this—young brother paid his addresses to—at least, did not + go so far as to pay his addresses to—but admired—respectfully + admired—the—not daughter, the sister—of one of us; a + rather distinguished Collegian; I may say, very much so. His name was + Captain Martin; and he consulted me on the question whether it was + necessary that his daughter—sister—should hazard offending the + turnkey brother by being too—ha!—too plain with the other + brother. Captain Martin was a gentleman and a man of honour, and I put it + to him first to give me his—his own opinion. Captain Martin (highly + respected in the army) then unhesitatingly said that it appeared to him + that his—hem!—sister was not called upon to understand the + young man too distinctly, and that she might lead him on—I am + doubtful whether “lead him on” was Captain Martin’s exact expression: + indeed I think he said tolerate him—on her father’s—I should + say, brother’s—account. I hardly know how I have strayed into this + story. I suppose it has been through being unable to account for Chivery; + but as to the connection between the two, I don’t see—’ + </p> + <p> + His voice died away, as if she could not bear the pain of hearing him, and + her hand had gradually crept to his lips. For a little while there was a + dead silence and stillness; and he remained shrunk in his chair, and she + remained with her arm round his neck and her head bowed down upon his + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + His supper was cooking in a saucepan on the fire, and, when she moved, it + was to make it ready for him on the table. He took his usual seat, she + took hers, and he began his meal. They did not, as yet, look at one + another. By little and little he began; laying down his knife and fork + with a noise, taking things up sharply, biting at his bread as if he were + offended with it, and in other similar ways showing that he was out of + sorts. At length he pushed his plate from him, and spoke aloud; with the + strangest inconsistency. + </p> + <p> + ‘What does it matter whether I eat or starve? What does it matter whether + such a blighted life as mine comes to an end, now, next week, or next + year? What am I worth to anyone? A poor prisoner, fed on alms and broken + victuals; a squalid, disgraced wretch!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father, father!’ As he rose she went on her knees to him, and held up her + hands to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy,’ he went on in a suppressed voice, trembling violently, and looking + at her as wildly as if he had gone mad. ‘I tell you, if you could see me + as your mother saw me, you wouldn’t believe it to be the creature you have + only looked at through the bars of this cage. I was young, I was + accomplished, I was good-looking, I was independent—by God I was, + child!—and people sought me out, and envied me. Envied me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear father!’ She tried to take down the shaking arm that he flourished + in the air, but he resisted, and put her hand away. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I had but a picture of myself in those days, though it was ever so ill + done, you would be proud of it, you would be proud of it. But I have no + such thing. Now, let me be a warning! Let no man,’ he cried, looking + haggardly about, ‘fail to preserve at least that little of the times of + his prosperity and respect. Let his children have that clue to what he + was. Unless my face, when I am dead, subsides into the long departed look—they + say such things happen, I don’t know—my children will have never + seen me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father, father!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O despise me, despise me! Look away from me, don’t listen to me, stop me, + blush for me, cry for me—even you, Amy! Do it, do it! I do it to + myself! I am hardened now, I have sunk too low to care long even for + that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear father, loved father, darling of my heart!’ She was clinging to him + with her arms, and she got him to drop into his chair again, and caught at + the raised arm, and tried to put it round her neck. + </p> + <p> + ‘Let it lie there, father. Look at me, father, kiss me, father! Only think + of me, father, for one little moment!’ + </p> + <p> + Still he went on in the same wild way, though it was gradually breaking + down into a miserable whining. + </p> + <p> + ‘And yet I have some respect here. I have made some stand against it. I am + not quite trodden down. Go out and ask who is the chief person in the + place. They’ll tell you it’s your father. Go out and ask who is never + trifled with, and who is always treated with some delicacy. They’ll say, + your father. Go out and ask what funeral here (it must be here, I know it + can be nowhere else) will make more talk, and perhaps more grief, than any + that has ever gone out at the gate. They’ll say your father’s. Well then. + Amy! Amy! Is your father so universally despised? Is there nothing to + redeem him? Will you have nothing to remember him by but his ruin and + decay? Will you be able to have no affection for him when he is gone, poor + castaway, gone?’ + </p> + <p> + He burst into tears of maudlin pity for himself, and at length suffering + her to embrace him and take charge of him, let his grey head rest against + her cheek, and bewailed his wretchedness. Presently he changed the subject + of his lamentations, and clasping his hands about her as she embraced him, + cried, O Amy, his motherless, forlorn child! O the days that he had seen + her careful and laborious for him! Then he reverted to himself, and weakly + told her how much better she would have loved him if she had known him in + his vanished character, and how he would have married her to a gentleman + who should have been proud of her as his daughter, and how (at which he + cried again) she should first have ridden at his fatherly side on her own + horse, and how the crowd (by which he meant in effect the people who had + given him the twelve shillings he then had in his pocket) should have + trudged the dusty roads respectfully. + </p> + <p> + Thus, now boasting, now despairing, in either fit a captive with the + jail-rot upon him, and the impurity of his prison worn into the grain of + his soul, he revealed his degenerate state to his affectionate child. No + one else ever beheld him in the details of his humiliation. Little recked + the Collegians who were laughing in their rooms over his late address in + the Lodge, what a serious picture they had in their obscure gallery of the + Marshalsea that Sunday night. + </p> + <p> + There was a classical daughter once—perhaps—who ministered to + her father in his prison as her mother had ministered to her. Little + Dorrit, though of the unheroic modern stock and mere English, did much + more, in comforting her father’s wasted heart upon her innocent breast, + and turning to it a fountain of love and fidelity that never ran dry or + waned through all his years of famine. + </p> + <p> + She soothed him; asked him for his forgiveness if she had been, or seemed + to have been, undutiful; told him, Heaven knows truly, that she could not + honour him more if he were the favourite of Fortune and the whole world + acknowledged him. When his tears were dried, and he sobbed in his weakness + no longer, and was free from that touch of shame, and had recovered his + usual bearing, she prepared the remains of his supper afresh, and, sitting + by his side, rejoiced to see him eat and drink. For now he sat in his + black velvet cap and old grey gown, magnanimous again; and would have + comported himself towards any Collegian who might have looked in to ask + his advice, like a great moral Lord Chesterfield, or Master of the ethical + ceremonies of the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + To keep his attention engaged, she talked with him about his wardrobe; + when he was pleased to say, that Yes, indeed, those shirts she proposed + would be exceedingly acceptable, for those he had were worn out, and, + being ready-made, had never fitted him. Being conversational, and in a + reasonable flow of spirits, he then invited her attention to his coat as + it hung behind the door: remarking that the Father of the place would set + an indifferent example to his children, already disposed to be slovenly, + if he went among them out at elbows. He was jocular, too, as to the + heeling of his shoes; but became grave on the subject of his cravat, and + promised her that, when she could afford it, she should buy him a new one. + </p> + <p> + While he smoked out his cigar in peace, she made his bed, and put the + small room in order for his repose. Being weary then, owing to the + advanced hour and his emotions, he came out of his chair to bless her and + wish her Good night. All this time he had never once thought of <i>her</i> + dress, her shoes, her need of anything. No other person upon earth, save + herself, could have been so unmindful of her wants. + </p> + <p> + He kissed her many times with ‘Bless you, my love. Good night, my dear!’ + </p> + <p> + But her gentle breast had been so deeply wounded by what she had seen of + him that she was unwilling to leave him alone, lest he should lament and + despair again. ‘Father, dear, I am not tired; let me come back presently, + when you are in bed, and sit by you.’ + </p> + <p> + He asked her, with an air of protection, if she felt solitary? + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then come back by all means, my love.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be very quiet, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t think of me, my dear,’ he said, giving her his kind permission + fully. ‘Come back by all means.’ + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be dozing when she returned, and she put the low fire + together very softly lest she should awake him. But he overheard her, and + called out who was that? + </p> + <p> + ‘Only Amy, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my child, come here. I want to say a word to you.’ + </p> + <p> + He raised himself a little in his low bed, as she kneeled beside it to + bring her face near him; and put his hand between hers. O! Both the + private father and the Father of the Marshalsea were strong within him + then. + </p> + <p> + ‘My love, you have had a life of hardship here. No companions, no + recreations, many cares I am afraid?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t think of that, dear. I never do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know my position, Amy. I have not been able to do much for you; but + all I have been able to do, I have done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, my dear father,’ she rejoined, kissing him. ‘I know, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am in the twenty-third year of my life here,’ he said, with a catch in + his breath that was not so much a sob as an irrepressible sound of + self-approval, the momentary outburst of a noble consciousness. ‘It is all + I could do for my children—I have done it. Amy, my love, you are by + far the best loved of the three; I have had you principally in my mind—whatever + I have done for your sake, my dear child, I have done freely and without + murmuring.’ + </p> + <p> + Only the wisdom that holds the clue to all hearts and all mysteries, can + surely know to what extent a man, especially a man brought down as this + man had been, can impose upon himself. Enough, for the present place, that + he lay down with wet eyelashes, serene, in a manner majestic, after + bestowing his life of degradation as a sort of portion on the devoted + child upon whom its miseries had fallen so heavily, and whose love alone + had saved him to be even what he was. + </p> + <p> + That child had no doubts, asked herself no question, for she was but too + content to see him with a lustre round his head. Poor dear, good dear, + truest, kindest, dearest, were the only words she had for him, as she + hushed him to rest. + </p> + <p> + She never left him all that night. As if she had done him a wrong which + her tenderness could hardly repair, she sat by him in his sleep, at times + softly kissing him with suspended breath, and calling him in a whisper by + some endearing name. At times she stood aside so as not to intercept the + low fire-light, and, watching him when it fell upon his sleeping face, + wondered did he look now at all as he had looked when he was prosperous + and happy; as he had so touched her by imagining that he might look once + more in that awful time. At the thought of that time, she kneeled beside + his bed again, and prayed, ‘O spare his life! O save him to me! O look + down upon my dear, long-suffering, unfortunate, much-changed, dear dear + father!’ + </p> + <p> + Not until the morning came to protect him and encourage him, did she give + him a last kiss and leave the small room. When she had stolen down-stairs, + and along the empty yard, and had crept up to her own high garret, the + smokeless housetops and the distant country hills were discernible over + the wall in the clear morning. As she gently opened the window, and looked + eastward down the prison yard, the spikes upon the wall were tipped with + red, then made a sullen purple pattern on the sun as it came flaming up + into the heavens. The spikes had never looked so sharp and cruel, nor the + bars so heavy, nor the prison space so gloomy and contracted. She thought + of the sunrise on rolling rivers, of the sunrise on wide seas, of the + sunrise on rich landscapes, of the sunrise on great forests where the + birds were waking and the trees were rustling; and she looked down into + the living grave on which the sun had risen, with her father in it + three-and-twenty years, and said, in a burst of sorrow and compassion, + ‘No, no, I have never seen him in my life!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0020"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 20. Moving in Society + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f Young John Chivery had had the inclination and the power to write a + satire on family pride, he would have had no need to go for an avenging + illustration out of the family of his beloved. He would have found it + amply in that gallant brother and that dainty sister, so steeped in mean + experiences, and so loftily conscious of the family name; so ready to beg + or borrow from the poorest, to eat of anybody’s bread, spend anybody’s + money, drink from anybody’s cup and break it afterwards. To have painted + the sordid facts of their lives, and they throughout invoking the death’s + head apparition of the family gentility to come and scare their + benefactors, would have made Young John a satirist of the first water. + </p> + <p> + Tip had turned his liberty to hopeful account by becoming a + billiard-marker. He had troubled himself so little as to the means of his + release, that Clennam scarcely needed to have been at the pains of + impressing the mind of Mr Plornish on that subject. Whoever had paid him + the compliment, he very readily accepted the compliment with <i>his</i> + compliments, and there was an end of it. Issuing forth from the gate on + these easy terms, he became a billiard-marker; and now occasionally looked + in at the little skittle-ground in a green Newmarket coat (second-hand), + with a shining collar and bright buttons (new), and drank the beer of the + Collegians. + </p> + <p> + One solid stationary point in the looseness of this gentleman’s character + was, that he respected and admired his sister Amy. The feeling had never + induced him to spare her a moment’s uneasiness, or to put himself to any + restraint or inconvenience on her account; but with that Marshalsea taint + upon his love, he loved her. The same rank Marshalsea flavour was to be + recognised in his distinctly perceiving that she sacrificed her life to + her father, and in his having no idea that she had done anything for + himself. + </p> + <p> + When this spirited young man and his sister had begun systematically to + produce the family skeleton for the overawing of the College, this + narrative cannot precisely state. Probably at about the period when they + began to dine on the College charity. It is certain that the more reduced + and necessitous they were, the more pompously the skeleton emerged from + its tomb; and that when there was anything particularly shabby in the + wind, the skeleton always came out with the ghastliest flourish. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was late on the Monday morning, for her father slept late, + and afterwards there was his breakfast to prepare and his room to arrange. + She had no engagement to go out to work, however, and therefore stayed + with him until, with Maggy’s help, she had put everything right about him, + and had seen him off upon his morning walk (of twenty yards or so) to the + coffee-house to read the paper. She then got on her bonnet and went out, + having been anxious to get out much sooner. There was, as usual, a + cessation of the small-talk in the Lodge as she passed through it; and a + Collegian who had come in on Saturday night, received the intimation from + the elbow of a more seasoned Collegian, ‘Look out. Here she is!’ + </p> + <p> + She wanted to see her sister, but when she got round to Mr Cripples’s, she + found that both her sister and her uncle had gone to the theatre where + they were engaged. Having taken thought of this probability by the way, + and having settled that in such case she would follow them, she set off + afresh for the theatre, which was on that side of the river, and not very + far away. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was almost as ignorant of the ways of theatres as of the + ways of gold mines, and when she was directed to a furtive sort of door, + with a curious up-all-night air about it, that appeared to be ashamed of + itself and to be hiding in an alley, she hesitated to approach it; being + further deterred by the sight of some half-dozen close-shaved gentlemen + with their hats very strangely on, who were lounging about the door, + looking not at all unlike Collegians. On her applying to them, reassured + by this resemblance, for a direction to Miss Dorrit, they made way for her + to enter a dark hall—it was more like a great grim lamp gone out + than anything else—where she could hear the distant playing of music + and the sound of dancing feet. A man so much in want of airing that he had + a blue mould upon him, sat watching this dark place from a hole in a + corner, like a spider; and he told her that he would send a message up to + Miss Dorrit by the first lady or gentleman who went through. The first + lady who went through had a roll of music, half in her muff and half out + of it, and was in such a tumbled condition altogether, that it seemed as + if it would be an act of kindness to iron her. But as she was very + good-natured, and said, ‘Come with me; I’ll soon find Miss Dorrit for + you,’ Miss Dorrit’s sister went with her, drawing nearer and nearer at + every step she took in the darkness to the sound of music and the sound of + dancing feet. + </p> + <p> + At last they came into a maze of dust, where a quantity of people were + tumbling over one another, and where there was such a confusion of + unaccountable shapes of beams, bulkheads, brick walls, ropes, and rollers, + and such a mixing of gaslight and daylight, that they seemed to have got + on the wrong side of the pattern of the universe. Little Dorrit, left to + herself, and knocked against by somebody every moment, was quite + bewildered, when she heard her sister’s voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, good gracious, Amy, what ever brought you here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wanted to see you, Fanny dear; and as I am going out all day to-morrow, + and knew you might be engaged all day to-day, I thought—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But the idea, Amy, of <i>you</i> coming behind! I never did!’ As her + sister said this in no very cordial tone of welcome, she conducted her to + a more open part of the maze, where various golden chairs and tables were + heaped together, and where a number of young ladies were sitting on + anything they could find, chattering. All these young ladies wanted + ironing, and all had a curious way of looking everywhere while they + chattered. + </p> + <p> + Just as the sisters arrived here, a monotonous boy in a Scotch cap put his + head round a beam on the left, and said, ‘Less noise there, ladies!’ and + disappeared. Immediately after which, a sprightly gentleman with a + quantity of long black hair looked round a beam on the right, and said, + ‘Less noise there, darlings!’ and also disappeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘The notion of you among professionals, Amy, is really the last thing I + could have conceived!’ said her sister. ‘Why, how did you ever get here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know. The lady who told you I was here, was so good as to bring + me in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like you quiet little things! You can make your way anywhere, I believe. + <i>I</i> couldn’t have managed it, Amy, though I know so much more of the + world.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the family custom to lay it down as family law, that she was a + plain domestic little creature, without the great and sage experience of + the rest. This family fiction was the family assertion of itself against + her services. Not to make too much of them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! And what have you got on your mind, Amy? Of course you have got + something on your mind about me?’ said Fanny. She spoke as if her sister, + between two and three years her junior, were her prejudiced grandmother. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not much; but since you told me of the lady who gave you the + bracelet, Fanny—’ + </p> + <p> + The monotonous boy put his head round the beam on the left, and said, + ‘Look out there, ladies!’ and disappeared. The sprightly gentleman with + the black hair as suddenly put his head round the beam on the right, and + said, ‘Look out there, darlings!’ and also disappeared. Thereupon all the + young ladies rose and began shaking their skirts out behind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Amy?’ said Fanny, doing as the rest did; ‘what were you going to + say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Since you told me a lady had given you the bracelet you showed me, Fanny, + I have not been quite easy on your account, and indeed want to know a + little more if you will confide more to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, ladies!’ said the boy in the Scotch cap. ‘Now, darlings!’ said the + gentleman with the black hair. They were every one gone in a moment, and + the music and the dancing feet were heard again. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit sat down in a golden chair, made quite giddy by these rapid + interruptions. Her sister and the rest were a long time gone; and during + their absence a voice (it appeared to be that of the gentleman with the + black hair) was continually calling out through the music, ‘One, two, + three, four, five, six—go! One, two, three, four, five, six—go! + Steady, darlings! One, two, three, four, five, six—go!’ Ultimately + the voice stopped, and they all came back again, more or less out of + breath, folding themselves in their shawls, and making ready for the + streets. ‘Stop a moment, Amy, and let them get away before us,’ whispered + Fanny. They were soon left alone; nothing more important happening, in the + meantime, than the boy looking round his old beam, and saying, ‘Everybody + at eleven to-morrow, ladies!’ and the gentleman with the black hair + looking round his old beam, and saying, ‘Everybody at eleven to-morrow, + darlings!’ each in his own accustomed manner. + </p> + <p> + When they were alone, something was rolled up or by other means got out of + the way, and there was a great empty well before them, looking down into + the depths of which Fanny said, ‘Now, uncle!’ Little Dorrit, as her eyes + became used to the darkness, faintly made him out at the bottom of the + well, in an obscure corner by himself, with his instrument in its ragged + case under his arm. + </p> + <p> + The old man looked as if the remote high gallery windows, with their + little strip of sky, might have been the point of his better fortunes, + from which he had descended, until he had gradually sunk down below there + to the bottom. He had been in that place six nights a week for many years, + but had never been observed to raise his eyes above his music-book, and + was confidently believed to have never seen a play. There were legends in + the place that he did not so much as know the popular heroes and heroines + by sight, and that the low comedian had ‘mugged’ at him in his richest + manner fifty nights for a wager, and he had shown no trace of + consciousness. The carpenters had a joke to the effect that he was dead + without being aware of it; and the frequenters of the pit supposed him to + pass his whole life, night and day, and Sunday and all, in the orchestra. + They had tried him a few times with pinches of snuff offered over the + rails, and he had always responded to this attention with a momentary + waking up of manner that had the pale phantom of a gentleman in it: beyond + this he never, on any occasion, had any other part in what was going on + than the part written out for the clarionet; in private life, where there + was no part for the clarionet, he had no part at all. Some said he was + poor, some said he was a wealthy miser; but he said nothing, never lifted + up his bowed head, never varied his shuffling gait by getting his + springless foot from the ground. Though expecting now to be summoned by + his niece, he did not hear her until she had spoken to him three or four + times; nor was he at all surprised by the presence of two nieces instead + of one, but merely said in his tremulous voice, ‘I am coming, I am + coming!’ and crept forth by some underground way which emitted a cellarous + smell. + </p> + <p> + ‘And so, Amy,’ said her sister, when the three together passed out at the + door that had such a shame-faced consciousness of being different from + other doors: the uncle instinctively taking Amy’s arm as the arm to be + relied on: ‘so, Amy, you are curious about me?’ + </p> + <p> + She was pretty, and conscious, and rather flaunting; and the condescension + with which she put aside the superiority of her charms, and of her worldly + experience, and addressed her sister on almost equal terms, had a vast + deal of the family in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am interested, Fanny, and concerned in anything that concerns you.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0219m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0219m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0219.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘So you are, so you are, and you are the best of Amys. If I am ever a + little provoking, I am sure you’ll consider what a thing it is to occupy + my position and feel a consciousness of being superior to it. I shouldn’t + care,’ said the Daughter of the Father of the Marshalsea, ‘if the others + were not so common. None of them have come down in the world as we have. + They are all on their own level. Common.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit mildly looked at the speaker, but did not interrupt her. + Fanny took out her handkerchief, and rather angrily wiped her eyes. ‘I was + not born where you were, you know, Amy, and perhaps that makes a + difference. My dear child, when we get rid of Uncle, you shall know all + about it. We’ll drop him at the cook’s shop where he is going to dine.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked on with him until they came to a dirty shop window in a dirty + street, which was made almost opaque by the steam of hot meats, + vegetables, and puddings. But glimpses were to be caught of a roast leg of + pork bursting into tears of sage and onion in a metal reservoir full of + gravy, of an unctuous piece of roast beef and blisterous Yorkshire + pudding, bubbling hot in a similar receptacle, of a stuffed fillet of veal + in rapid cut, of a ham in a perspiration with the pace it was going at, of + a shallow tank of baked potatoes glued together by their own richness, of + a truss or two of boiled greens, and other substantial delicacies. Within, + were a few wooden partitions, behind which such customers as found it more + convenient to take away their dinners in stomachs than in their hands, + Packed their purchases in solitude. Fanny opening her reticule, as they + surveyed these things, produced from that repository a shilling and handed + it to Uncle. Uncle, after not looking at it a little while, divined its + object, and muttering ‘Dinner? Ha! Yes, yes, yes!’ slowly vanished from + them into the mist. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Amy,’ said her sister, ‘come with me, if you are not too tired to + walk to Harley Street, Cavendish Square.’ + </p> + <p> + The air with which she threw off this distinguished address and the toss + she gave to her new bonnet (which was more gauzy than serviceable), made + her sister wonder; however, she expressed her readiness to go to Harley + Street, and thither they directed their steps. Arrived at that grand + destination, Fanny singled out the handsomest house, and knocking at the + door, inquired for Mrs Merdle. The footman who opened the door, although + he had powder on his head and was backed up by two other footmen likewise + powdered, not only admitted Mrs Merdle to be at home, but asked Fanny to + walk in. Fanny walked in, taking her sister with her; and they went + up-stairs with powder going before and powder stopping behind, and were + left in a spacious semicircular drawing-room, one of several + drawing-rooms, where there was a parrot on the outside of a golden cage + holding on by its beak, with its scaly legs in the air, and putting itself + into many strange upside-down postures. This peculiarity has been observed + in birds of quite another feather, climbing upon golden wires. + </p> + <p> + The room was far more splendid than anything Little Dorrit had ever + imagined, and would have been splendid and costly in any eyes. She looked + in amazement at her sister and would have asked a question, but that Fanny + with a warning frown pointed to a curtained doorway of communication with + another room. The curtain shook next moment, and a lady, raising it with a + heavily ringed hand, dropped it behind her again as she entered. + </p> + <p> + The lady was not young and fresh from the hand of Nature, but was young + and fresh from the hand of her maid. She had large unfeeling handsome + eyes, and dark unfeeling handsome hair, and a broad unfeeling handsome + bosom, and was made the most of in every particular. Either because she + had a cold, or because it suited her face, she wore a rich white fillet + tied over her head and under her chin. And if ever there were an unfeeling + handsome chin that looked as if, for certain, it had never been, in + familiar parlance, ‘chucked’ by the hand of man, it was the chin curbed up + so tight and close by that laced bridle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle,’ said Fanny. ‘My sister, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad to see your sister, Miss Dorrit. I did not remember that you + had a sister.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not mention that I had,’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ Mrs Merdle curled the little finger of her left hand as who should + say, ‘I have caught you. I know you didn’t!’ All her action was usually + with her left hand because her hands were not a pair; and left being much + the whiter and plumper of the two. Then she added: ‘Sit down,’ and + composed herself voluptuously, in a nest of crimson and gold cushions, on + an ottoman near the parrot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Also professional?’ said Mrs Merdle, looking at Little Dorrit through an + eye-glass. + </p> + <p> + Fanny answered No. ‘No,’ said Mrs Merdle, dropping her glass. ‘Has not a + professional air. Very pleasant; but not professional.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My sister, ma’am,’ said Fanny, in whom there was a singular mixture of + deference and hardihood, ‘has been asking me to tell her, as between + sisters, how I came to have the honour of knowing you. And as I had + engaged to call upon you once more, I thought I might take the liberty of + bringing her with me, when perhaps you would tell her. I wish her to know, + and perhaps you will tell her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think, at your sister’s age—’ hinted Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is much older than she looks,’ said Fanny; ‘almost as old as I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Society,’ said Mrs Merdle, with another curve of her little finger, ‘is + so difficult to explain to young persons (indeed is so difficult to + explain to most persons), that I am glad to hear that. I wish Society was + not so arbitrary, I wish it was not so exacting—Bird, be quiet!’ + </p> + <p> + The parrot had given a most piercing shriek, as if its name were Society + and it asserted its right to its exactions. + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ resumed Mrs Merdle, ‘we must take it as we find it. We know it is + hollow and conventional and worldly and very shocking, but unless we are + Savages in the Tropical seas (I should have been charmed to be one myself—most + delightful life and perfect climate, I am told), we must consult it. It is + the common lot. Mr Merdle is a most extensive merchant, his transactions + are on the vastest scale, his wealth and influence are very great, but + even he—Bird, be quiet!’ + </p> + <p> + The parrot had shrieked another shriek; and it filled up the sentence so + expressively that Mrs Merdle was under no necessity to end it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Since your sister begs that I would terminate our personal acquaintance,’ + she began again, addressing Little Dorrit, ‘by relating the circumstances + that are much to her credit, I cannot object to comply with her request, I + am sure. I have a son (I was first married extremely young) of two or + three-and-twenty.’ + </p> + <p> + Fanny set her lips, and her eyes looked half triumphantly at her sister. + </p> + <p> + ‘A son of two or three-and-twenty. He is a little gay, a thing Society is + accustomed to in young men, and he is very impressible. Perhaps he + inherits that misfortune. I am very impressible myself, by nature. The + weakest of creatures—my feelings are touched in a moment.’ + </p> + <p> + She said all this, and everything else, as coldly as a woman of snow; + quite forgetting the sisters except at odd times, and apparently + addressing some abstraction of Society; for whose behoof, too, she + occasionally arranged her dress, or the composition of her figure upon the + ottoman. + </p> + <p> + ‘So he is very impressible. Not a misfortune in our natural state I dare + say, but we are not in a natural state. Much to be lamented, no doubt, + particularly by myself, who am a child of nature if I could but show it; + but so it is. Society suppresses us and dominates us—Bird, be + quiet!’ + </p> + <p> + The parrot had broken into a violent fit of laughter, after twisting + divers bars of his cage with his crooked bill, and licking them with his + black tongue. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is quite unnecessary to say to a person of your good sense, wide range + of experience, and cultivated feeling,’ said Mrs Merdle from her nest of + crimson and gold—and there put up her glass to refresh her memory as + to whom she was addressing,—‘that the stage sometimes has a + fascination for young men of that class of character. In saying the stage, + I mean the people on it of the female sex. Therefore, when I heard that my + son was supposed to be fascinated by a dancer, I knew what that usually + meant in Society, and confided in her being a dancer at the Opera, where + young men moving in Society are usually fascinated.’ + </p> + <p> + She passed her white hands over one another, observant of the sisters now; + and the rings upon her fingers grated against each other with a hard + sound. + </p> + <p> + ‘As your sister will tell you, when I found what the theatre was I was + much surprised and much distressed. But when I found that your sister, by + rejecting my son’s advances (I must add, in an unexpected manner), had + brought him to the point of proposing marriage, my feelings were of the + profoundest anguish—acute.’ + </p> + <p> + She traced the outline of her left eyebrow, and put it right. + </p> + <p> + ‘In a distracted condition, which only a mother—moving in Society—can + be susceptible of, I determined to go myself to the theatre, and represent + my state of mind to the dancer. I made myself known to your sister. I + found her, to my surprise, in many respects different from my + expectations; and certainly in none more so, than in meeting me with—what + shall I say—a sort of family assertion on her own part?’ Mrs Merdle + smiled. + </p> + <p> + ‘I told you, ma’am,’ said Fanny, with a heightening colour, ‘that although + you found me in that situation, I was so far above the rest, that I + considered my family as good as your son’s; and that I had a brother who, + knowing the circumstances, would be of the same opinion, and would not + consider such a connection any honour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Dorrit,’ said Mrs Merdle, after frostily looking at her through her + glass, ‘precisely what I was on the point of telling your sister, in + pursuance of your request. Much obliged to you for recalling it so + accurately and anticipating me. I immediately,’ addressing Little Dorrit, + ‘(for I am the creature of impulse), took a bracelet from my arm, and + begged your sister to let me clasp it on hers, in token of the delight I + had in our being able to approach the subject so far on a common footing.’ + (This was perfectly true, the lady having bought a cheap and showy article + on her way to the interview, with a general eye to bribery.) + </p> + <p> + ‘And I told you, Mrs Merdle,’ said Fanny, ‘that we might be unfortunate, + but we are not common.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, the very words, Miss Dorrit,’ assented Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I told you, Mrs Merdle,’ said Fanny, ‘that if you spoke to me of the + superiority of your son’s standing in Society, it was barely possible that + you rather deceived yourself in your suppositions about my origin; and + that my father’s standing, even in the Society in which he now moved (what + that was, was best known to myself), was eminently superior, and was + acknowledged by every one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite accurate,’ rejoined Mrs Merdle. ‘A most admirable memory.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, ma’am. Perhaps you will be so kind as to tell my sister the + rest.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is very little to tell,’ said Mrs Merdle, reviewing the breadth of + bosom which seemed essential to her having room enough to be unfeeling in, + ‘but it is to your sister’s credit. I pointed out to your sister the plain + state of the case; the impossibility of the Society in which we moved + recognising the Society in which she moved—though charming, I have + no doubt; the immense disadvantage at which she would consequently place + the family she had so high an opinion of, upon which we should find + ourselves compelled to look down with contempt, and from which (socially + speaking) we should feel obliged to recoil with abhorrence. In short, I + made an appeal to that laudable pride in your sister.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let my sister know, if you please, Mrs Merdle,’ Fanny pouted, with a toss + of her gauzy bonnet, ‘that I had already had the honour of telling your + son that I wished to have nothing whatever to say to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Miss Dorrit,’ assented Mrs Merdle, ‘perhaps I might have mentioned + that before. If I did not think of it, perhaps it was because my mind + reverted to the apprehensions I had at the time that he might persevere + and you might have something to say to him. I also mentioned to your + sister—I again address the non-professional Miss Dorrit—that + my son would have nothing in the event of such a marriage, and would be an + absolute beggar. (I mention that merely as a fact which is part of the + narrative, and not as supposing it to have influenced your sister, except + in the prudent and legitimate way in which, constituted as our artificial + system is, we must all be influenced by such considerations.) Finally, + after some high words and high spirit on the part of your sister, we came + to the complete understanding that there was no danger; and your sister + was so obliging as to allow me to present her with a mark or two of my + appreciation at my dressmaker’s.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit looked sorry, and glanced at Fanny with a troubled face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Also,’ said Mrs Merdle, ‘as to promise to give me the present pleasure of + a closing interview, and of parting with her on the best of terms. On + which occasion,’ added Mrs Merdle, quitting her nest, and putting + something in Fanny’s hand, ‘Miss Dorrit will permit me to say Farewell + with best wishes in my own dull manner.’ + </p> + <p> + The sisters rose at the same time, and they all stood near the cage of the + parrot, as he tore at a claw-full of biscuit and spat it out, seemed to + mock them with a pompous dance of his body without moving his feet, and + suddenly turned himself upside down and trailed himself all over the + outside of his golden cage, with the aid of his cruel beak and black + tongue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Adieu, Miss Dorrit, with best wishes,’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘If we could only + come to a Millennium, or something of that sort, I for one might have the + pleasure of knowing a number of charming and talented persons from whom I + am at present excluded. A more primitive state of society would be + delicious to me. There used to be a poem when I learnt lessons, something + about Lo the poor Indians whose something mind! If a few thousand persons + moving in Society, could only go and be Indians, I would put my name down + directly; but as, moving in Society, we can’t be Indians, unfortunately—Good + morning!’ + </p> + <p> + They came down-stairs with powder before them and powder behind, the elder + sister haughty and the younger sister humbled, and were shut out into + unpowdered Harley Street, Cavendish Square. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ said Fanny, when they had gone a little way without speaking. + ‘Have you nothing to say, Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, I don’t know what to say!’ she answered, distressed. ‘You didn’t like + this young man, Fanny?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like him? He is almost an idiot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so sorry—don’t be hurt—but, since you ask me what I have + to say, I am so very sorry, Fanny, that you suffered this lady to give you + anything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You little Fool!’ returned her sister, shaking her with the sharp pull + she gave her arm. ‘Have you no spirit at all? But that’s just the way! You + have no self-respect, you have no becoming pride, just as you allow + yourself to be followed about by a contemptible little Chivery of a + thing,’ with the scornfullest emphasis, ‘you would let your family be + trodden on, and never turn.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say that, dear Fanny. I do what I can for them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You do what you can for them!’ repeated Fanny, walking her on very fast. + ‘Would you let a woman like this, whom you could see, if you had any + experience of anything, to be as false and insolent as a woman can be—would + you let her put her foot upon your family, and thank her for it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Fanny, I am sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then make her pay for it, you mean little thing. What else can you make + her do? Make her pay for it, you stupid child; and do your family some + credit with the money!’ + </p> + <p> + They spoke no more all the way back to the lodging where Fanny and her + uncle lived. When they arrived there, they found the old man practising + his clarionet in the dolefullest manner in a corner of the room. Fanny had + a composite meal to make, of chops, and porter, and tea; and indignantly + pretended to prepare it for herself, though her sister did all that in + quiet reality. When at last Fanny sat down to eat and drink, she threw the + table implements about and was angry with her bread, much as her father + had been last night. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you despise me,’ she said, bursting into vehement tears, ‘because I am + a dancer, why did you put me in the way of being one? It was your doing. + You would have me stoop as low as the ground before this Mrs Merdle, and + let her say what she liked and do what she liked, and hold us all in + contempt, and tell me so to my face. Because I am a dancer!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O Fanny!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And Tip, too, poor fellow. She is to disparage him just as much as she + likes, without any check—I suppose because he has been in the law, + and the docks, and different things. Why, it was your doing, Amy. You + might at least approve of his being defended.’ + </p> + <p> + All this time the uncle was dolefully blowing his clarionet in the corner, + sometimes taking it an inch or so from his mouth for a moment while he + stopped to gaze at them, with a vague impression that somebody had said + something. + </p> + <p> + ‘And your father, your poor father, Amy. Because he is not free to show + himself and to speak for himself, you would let such people insult him + with impunity. If you don’t feel for yourself because you go out to work, + you might at least feel for him, I should think, knowing what he has + undergone so long.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Little Dorrit felt the injustice of this taunt rather sharply. The + remembrance of last night added a barbed point to it. She said nothing in + reply, but turned her chair from the table towards the fire. Uncle, after + making one more pause, blew a dismal wail and went on again. + </p> + <p> + Fanny was passionate with the tea-cups and the bread as long as her + passion lasted, and then protested that she was the wretchedest girl in + the world, and she wished she was dead. After that, her crying became + remorseful, and she got up and put her arms round her sister. Little + Dorrit tried to stop her from saying anything, but she answered that she + would, she must! Thereupon she said again, and again, ‘I beg your pardon, + Amy,’ and ‘Forgive me, Amy,’ almost as passionately as she had said what + she regretted. + </p> + <p> + ‘But indeed, indeed, Amy,’ she resumed when they were seated in sisterly + accord side by side, ‘I hope and I think you would have seen this + differently, if you had known a little more of Society.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I might, Fanny,’ said the mild Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, while you have been domestic and resignedly shut up there, Amy,’ + pursued her sister, gradually beginning to patronise, ‘I have been out, + moving more in Society, and may have been getting proud and spirited—more + than I ought to be, perhaps?’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit answered ‘Yes. O yes!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And while you have been thinking of the dinner or the clothes, I may have + been thinking, you know, of the family. Now, may it not be so, Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit again nodded ‘Yes,’ with a more cheerful face than heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Especially as we know,’ said Fanny, ‘that there certainly is a tone in + the place to which you have been so true, which does belong to it, and + which does make it different from other aspects of Society. So kiss me + once again, Amy dear, and we will agree that we may both be right, and + that you are a tranquil, domestic, home-loving, good girl.’ + </p> + <p> + The clarionet had been lamenting most pathetically during this dialogue, + but was cut short now by Fanny’s announcement that it was time to go; + which she conveyed to her uncle by shutting up his scrap of music, and + taking the clarionet out of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit parted from them at the door, and hastened back to the + Marshalsea. It fell dark there sooner than elsewhere, and going into it + that evening was like going into a deep trench. The shadow of the wall was + on every object. Not least upon the figure in the old grey gown and the + black velvet cap, as it turned towards her when she opened the door of the + dim room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not upon me too!’ thought Little Dorrit, with the door yet in her + hand. ‘It was not unreasonable in Fanny.’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0021"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 21. Mr Merdle’s Complaint + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">U</span>pon that establishment of state, the Merdle establishment in Harley + Street, Cavendish Square, there was the shadow of no more common wall than + the fronts of other establishments of state on the opposite side of the + street. Like unexceptionable Society, the opposing rows of houses in + Harley Street were very grim with one another. Indeed, the mansions and + their inhabitants were so much alike in that respect, that the people were + often to be found drawn up on opposite sides of dinner-tables, in the + shade of their own loftiness, staring at the other side of the way with + the dullness of the houses. + </p> + <p> + Everybody knows how like the street the two dinner-rows of people who take + their stand by the street will be. The expressionless uniform twenty + houses, all to be knocked at and rung at in the same form, all + approachable by the same dull steps, all fended off by the same pattern of + railing, all with the same impracticable fire-escapes, the same + inconvenient fixtures in their heads, and everything without exception to + be taken at a high valuation—who has not dined with these? The house + so drearily out of repair, the occasional bow-window, the stuccoed house, + the newly-fronted house, the corner house with nothing but angular rooms, + the house with the blinds always down, the house with the hatchment always + up, the house where the collector has called for one quarter of an Idea, + and found nobody at home—who has not dined with these? The house + that nobody will take, and is to be had a bargain—who does not know + her? The showy house that was taken for life by the disappointed + gentleman, and which does not suit him at all—who is unacquainted + with that haunted habitation? + </p> + <p> + Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was more than aware of Mr and Mrs Merdle. + Intruders there were in Harley Street, of whom it was not aware; but Mr + and Mrs Merdle it delighted to honour. Society was aware of Mr and Mrs + Merdle. Society had said ‘Let us license them; let us know them.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle was immensely rich; a man of prodigious enterprise; a Midas + without the ears, who turned all he touched to gold. He was in everything + good, from banking to building. He was in Parliament, of course. He was in + the City, necessarily. He was Chairman of this, Trustee of that, President + of the other. The weightiest of men had said to projectors, ‘Now, what + name have you got? Have you got Merdle?’ And, the reply being in the + negative, had said, ‘Then I won’t look at you.’ + </p> + <p> + This great and fortunate man had provided that extensive bosom which + required so much room to be unfeeling enough in, with a nest of crimson + and gold some fifteen years before. It was not a bosom to repose upon, but + it was a capital bosom to hang jewels upon. Mr Merdle wanted something to + hang jewels upon, and he bought it for the purpose. Storr and Mortimer + might have married on the same speculation. + </p> + <p> + Like all his other speculations, it was sound and successful. The jewels + showed to the richest advantage. The bosom moving in Society with the + jewels displayed upon it, attracted general admiration. Society approving, + Mr Merdle was satisfied. He was the most disinterested of men,—did + everything for Society, and got as little for himself out of all his gain + and care, as a man might. + </p> + <p> + That is to say, it may be supposed that he got all he wanted, otherwise + with unlimited wealth he would have got it. But his desire was to the + utmost to satisfy Society (whatever that was), and take up all its drafts + upon him for tribute. He did not shine in company; he had not very much to + say for himself; he was a reserved man, with a broad, overhanging, + watchful head, that particular kind of dull red colour in his cheeks which + is rather stale than fresh, and a somewhat uneasy expression about his + coat-cuffs, as if they were in his confidence, and had reasons for being + anxious to hide his hands. In the little he said, he was a pleasant man + enough; plain, emphatic about public and private confidence, and tenacious + of the utmost deference being shown by every one, in all things, to + Society. In this same Society (if that were it which came to his dinners, + and to Mrs Merdle’s receptions and concerts), he hardly seemed to enjoy + himself much, and was mostly to be found against walls and behind doors. + Also when he went out to it, instead of its coming home to him, he seemed + a little fatigued, and upon the whole rather more disposed for bed; but he + was always cultivating it nevertheless, and always moving in it—and + always laying out money on it with the greatest liberality. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle’s first husband had been a colonel, under whose auspices the + bosom had entered into competition with the snows of North America, and + had come off at little disadvantage in point of whiteness, and at none in + point of coldness. The colonel’s son was Mrs Merdle’s only child. He was + of a chuckle-headed, high-shouldered make, with a general appearance of + being, not so much a young man as a swelled boy. He had given so few signs + of reason, that a by-word went among his companions that his brain had + been frozen up in a mighty frost which prevailed at St John’s, New + Brunswick, at the period of his birth there, and had never thawed from + that hour. Another by-word represented him as having in his infancy, + through the negligence of a nurse, fallen out of a high window on his + head, which had been heard by responsible witnesses to crack. It is + probable that both these representations were of ex post facto origin; the + young gentleman (whose expressive name was Sparkler) being monomaniacal in + offering marriage to all manner of undesirable young ladies, and in + remarking of every successive young lady to whom he tendered a matrimonial + proposal that she was ‘a doosed fine gal—well educated too—with + no biggodd nonsense about her.’ + </p> + <p> + A son-in-law with these limited talents, might have been a clog upon + another man; but Mr Merdle did not want a son-in-law for himself; he + wanted a son-in-law for Society. Mr Sparkler having been in the Guards, + and being in the habit of frequenting all the races, and all the lounges, + and all the parties, and being well known, Society was satisfied with its + son-in-law. This happy result Mr Merdle would have considered well + attained, though Mr Sparkler had been a more expensive article. And he did + not get Mr Sparkler by any means cheap for Society, even as it was. + </p> + <p> + There was a dinner giving in the Harley Street establishment, while Little + Dorrit was stitching at her father’s new shirts by his side that night; + and there were magnates from the Court and magnates from the City, + magnates from the Commons and magnates from the Lords, magnates from the + bench and magnates from the bar, Bishop magnates, Treasury magnates, Horse + Guard magnates, Admiralty magnates,—all the magnates that keep us + going, and sometimes trip us up. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am told,’ said Bishop magnate to Horse Guards, ‘that Mr Merdle has made + another enormous hit. They say a hundred thousand pounds.’ + </p> + <p> + Horse Guards had heard two. + </p> + <p> + Treasury had heard three. + </p> + <p> + Bar, handling his persuasive double eye-glass, was by no means clear but + that it might be four. It was one of those happy strokes of calculation + and combination, the result of which it was difficult to estimate. It was + one of those instances of a comprehensive grasp, associated with habitual + luck and characteristic boldness, of which an age presented us but few. + But here was Brother Bellows, who had been in the great Bank case, and who + could probably tell us more. What did Brother Bellows put this new success + at? + </p> + <p> + Brother Bellows was on his way to make his bow to the bosom, and could + only tell them in passing that he had heard it stated, with great + appearance of truth, as being worth, from first to last, half-a-million of + money. + </p> + <p> + Admiralty said Mr Merdle was a wonderful man, Treasury said he was a new + power in the country, and would be able to buy up the whole House of + Commons. Bishop said he was glad to think that this wealth flowed into the + coffers of a gentleman who was always disposed to maintain the best + interests of Society. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle himself was usually late on these occasions, as a man still + detained in the clutch of giant enterprises when other men had shaken off + their dwarfs for the day. On this occasion, he was the last arrival. + Treasury said Merdle’s work punished him a little. Bishop said he was glad + to think that this wealth flowed into the coffers of a gentleman who + accepted it with meekness. + </p> + <p> + Powder! There was so much Powder in waiting, that it flavoured the dinner. + Pulverous particles got into the dishes, and Society’s meats had a + seasoning of first-rate footmen. Mr Merdle took down a countess who was + secluded somewhere in the core of an immense dress, to which she was in + the proportion of the heart to the overgrown cabbage. If so low a simile + may be admitted, the dress went down the staircase like a richly brocaded + Jack in the Green, and nobody knew what sort of small person carried it. + </p> + <p> + Society had everything it could want, and could not want, for dinner. It + had everything to look at, and everything to eat, and everything to drink. + It is to be hoped it enjoyed itself; for Mr Merdle’s own share of the + repast might have been paid for with eighteenpence. Mrs Merdle was + magnificent. The chief butler was the next magnificent institution of the + day. He was the stateliest man in the company. He did nothing, but he + looked on as few other men could have done. He was Mr Merdle’s last gift + to Society. Mr Merdle didn’t want him, and was put out of countenance when + the great creature looked at him; but inappeasable Society would have him—and + had got him. + </p> + <p> + The invisible countess carried out the Green at the usual stage of the + entertainment, and the file of beauty was closed up by the bosom. Treasury + said, Juno. Bishop said, Judith. + </p> + <p> + Bar fell into discussion with Horse Guards concerning courts-martial. + Brothers Bellows and Bench struck in. Other magnates paired off. Mr Merdle + sat silent, and looked at the table-cloth. Sometimes a magnate addressed + him, to turn the stream of his own particular discussion towards him; but + Mr Merdle seldom gave much attention to it, or did more than rouse himself + from his calculations and pass the wine. + </p> + <p> + When they rose, so many of the magnates had something to say to Mr Merdle + individually that he held little levees by the sideboard, and checked them + off as they went out at the door. + </p> + <p> + Treasury hoped he might venture to congratulate one of England’s + world-famed capitalists and merchant-princes (he had turned that original + sentiment in the house a few times, and it came easy to him) on a new + achievement. To extend the triumphs of such men was to extend the triumphs + and resources of the nation; and Treasury felt—he gave Mr Merdle to + understand—patriotic on the subject. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Mr Merdle; ‘thank you. I accept your + congratulations with pride, and I am glad you approve.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, I don’t unreservedly approve, my dear Mr Merdle. Because,’ smiling + Treasury turned him by the arm towards the sideboard and spoke + banteringly, ‘it never can be worth your while to come among us and help + us.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle felt honoured by the— + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ said Treasury, ‘that is not the light in which one so + distinguished for practical knowledge and great foresight, can be expected + to regard it. If we should ever be happily enabled, by accidentally + possessing the control over circumstances, to propose to one so eminent to—to + come among us, and give us the weight of his influence, knowledge, and + character, we could only propose it to him as a duty. In fact, as a duty + that he owed to Society.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle intimated that Society was the apple of his eye, and that its + claims were paramount to every other consideration. Treasury moved on, and + Bar came up. + </p> + <p> + Bar, with his little insinuating jury droop, and fingering his persuasive + double eye-glass, hoped he might be excused if he mentioned to one of the + greatest converters of the root of all evil into the root of all good, who + had for a long time reflected a shining lustre on the annals even of our + commercial country—if he mentioned, disinterestedly, and as, what we + lawyers called in our pedantic way, amicus curiae, a fact that had come by + accident within his knowledge. He had been required to look over the title + of a very considerable estate in one of the eastern counties—lying, + in fact, for Mr Merdle knew we lawyers loved to be particular, on the + borders of two of the eastern counties. Now, the title was perfectly + sound, and the estate was to be purchased by one who had the command of—Money + (jury droop and persuasive eye-glass), on remarkably advantageous terms. + This had come to Bar’s knowledge only that day, and it had occurred to + him, ‘I shall have the honour of dining with my esteemed friend Mr Merdle + this evening, and, strictly between ourselves, I will mention the + opportunity.’ Such a purchase would involve not only a great legitimate + political influence, but some half-dozen church presentations of + considerable annual value. Now, that Mr Merdle was already at no loss to + discover means of occupying even his capital, and of fully employing even + his active and vigorous intellect, Bar well knew: but he would venture to + suggest that the question arose in his mind, whether one who had + deservedly gained so high a position and so European a reputation did not + owe it—we would not say to himself, but we would say to Society, to + possess himself of such influences as these; and to exercise them—we + would not say for his own, or for his party’s, but we would say for + Society’s—benefit. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle again expressed himself as wholly devoted to that object of his + constant consideration, and Bar took his persuasive eye-glass up the grand + staircase. Bishop then came undesignedly sidling in the direction of the + sideboard. + </p> + <p> + Surely the goods of this world, it occurred in an accidental way to Bishop + to remark, could scarcely be directed into happier channels than when they + accumulated under the magic touch of the wise and sagacious, who, while + they knew the just value of riches (Bishop tried here to look as if he + were rather poor himself), were aware of their importance, judiciously + governed and rightly distributed, to the welfare of our brethren at large. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle with humility expressed his conviction that Bishop couldn’t mean + him, and with inconsistency expressed his high gratification in Bishop’s + good opinion. + </p> + <p> + Bishop then—jauntily stepping out a little with his well-shaped + right leg, as though he said to Mr Merdle ‘don’t mind the apron; a mere + form!’ put this case to his good friend: + </p> + <p> + Whether it had occurred to his good friend, that Society might not + unreasonably hope that one so blest in his undertakings, and whose example + on his pedestal was so influential with it, would shed a little money in + the direction of a mission or so to Africa? + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle signifying that the idea should have his best attention, Bishop + put another case: + </p> + <p> + Whether his good friend had at all interested himself in the proceedings + of our Combined Additional Endowed Dignitaries Committee, and whether it + had occurred to him that to shed a little money in <i>that</i> direction + might be a great conception finely executed? + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle made a similar reply, and Bishop explained his reason for + inquiring. + </p> + <p> + Society looked to such men as his good friend to do such things. It was + not that <i>he</i> looked to them, but that Society looked to them. Just + as it was not Our Committee who wanted the Additional Endowed Dignitaries, + but it was Society that was in a state of the most agonising uneasiness of + mind until it got them. He begged to assure his good friend that he was + extremely sensible of his good friend’s regard on all occasions for the + best interests of Society; and he considered that he was at once + consulting those interests and expressing the feeling of Society, when he + wished him continued prosperity, continued increase of riches, and + continued things in general. + </p> + <p> + Bishop then betook himself up-stairs, and the other magnates gradually + floated up after him until there was no one left below but Mr Merdle. That + gentleman, after looking at the table-cloth until the soul of the chief + butler glowed with a noble resentment, went slowly up after the rest, and + became of no account in the stream of people on the grand staircase. Mrs + Merdle was at home, the best of the jewels were hung out to be seen, + Society got what it came for, Mr Merdle drank twopennyworth of tea in a + corner and got more than he wanted. + </p> + <p> + Among the evening magnates was a famous physician, who knew everybody, and + whom everybody knew. On entering at the door, he came upon Mr Merdle + drinking his tea in a corner, and touched him on the arm. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle started. ‘Oh! It’s you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any better to-day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I am no better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A pity I didn’t see you this morning. Pray come to me to-morrow, or let + me come to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ he replied. ‘I will come to-morrow as I drive by.’ + </p> + <p> + Bar and Bishop had both been bystanders during this short dialogue, and as + Mr Merdle was swept away by the crowd, they made their remarks upon it to + the Physician. Bar said, there was a certain point of mental strain beyond + which no man could go; that the point varied with various textures of + brain and peculiarities of constitution, as he had had occasion to notice + in several of his learned brothers; but the point of endurance passed by a + line’s breadth, depression and dyspepsia ensued. Not to intrude on the + sacred mysteries of medicine, he took it, now (with the jury droop and + persuasive eye-glass), that this was Merdle’s case? Bishop said that when + he was a young man, and had fallen for a brief space into the habit of + writing sermons on Saturdays, a habit which all young sons of the church + should sedulously avoid, he had frequently been sensible of a depression, + arising as he supposed from an over-taxed intellect, upon which the yolk + of a new-laid egg, beaten up by the good woman in whose house he at that + time lodged, with a glass of sound sherry, nutmeg, and powdered sugar + acted like a charm. Without presuming to offer so simple a remedy to the + consideration of so profound a professor of the great healing art, he + would venture to inquire whether the strain, being by way of intricate + calculations, the spirits might not (humanly speaking) be restored to + their tone by a gentle and yet generous stimulant? + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said the physician, ‘yes, you are both right. But I may as well + tell you that I can find nothing the matter with Mr Merdle. He has the + constitution of a rhinoceros, the digestion of an ostrich, and the + concentration of an oyster. As to nerves, Mr Merdle is of a cool + temperament, and not a sensitive man: is about as invulnerable, I should + say, as Achilles. How such a man should suppose himself unwell without + reason, you may think strange. But I have found nothing the matter with + him. He may have some deep-seated recondite complaint. I can’t say. I only + say, that at present I have not found it out.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no shadow of Mr Merdle’s complaint on the bosom now displaying + precious stones in rivalry with many similar superb jewel-stands; there + was no shadow of Mr Merdle’s complaint on young Sparkler hovering about + the rooms, monomaniacally seeking any sufficiently ineligible young lady + with no nonsense about her; there was no shadow of Mr Merdle’s complaint + on the Barnacles and Stiltstalkings, of whom whole colonies were present; + or on any of the company. Even on himself, its shadow was faint enough as + he moved about among the throng, receiving homage. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle’s complaint. Society and he had so much to do with one another + in all things else, that it is hard to imagine his complaint, if he had + one, being solely his own affair. Had he that deep-seated recondite + complaint, and did any doctor find it out? Patience, in the meantime, the + shadow of the Marshalsea wall was a real darkening influence, and could be + seen on the Dorrit Family at any stage of the sun’s course. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0022"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 22. A Puzzle + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>r Clennam did not increase in favour with the Father of the Marshalsea in + the ratio of his increasing visits. His obtuseness on the great + Testimonial question was not calculated to awaken admiration in the + paternal breast, but had rather a tendency to give offence in that + sensitive quarter, and to be regarded as a positive shortcoming in point + of gentlemanly feeling. An impression of disappointment, occasioned by the + discovery that Mr Clennam scarcely possessed that delicacy for which, in + the confidence of his nature, he had been inclined to give him credit, + began to darken the fatherly mind in connection with that gentleman. The + father went so far as to say, in his private family circle, that he feared + Mr Clennam was not a man of high instincts. He was happy, he observed, in + his public capacity as leader and representative of the College, to + receive Mr Clennam when he called to pay his respects; but he didn’t find + that he got on with him personally. There appeared to be something (he + didn’t know what it was) wanting in him. Howbeit, the father did not fail + in any outward show of politeness, but, on the contrary, honoured him with + much attention; perhaps cherishing the hope that, although not a man of a + sufficiently brilliant and spontaneous turn of mind to repeat his former + testimonial unsolicited, it might still be within the compass of his + nature to bear the part of a responsive gentleman, in any correspondence + that way tending. + </p> + <p> + In the threefold capacity, of the gentleman from outside who had been + accidentally locked in on the night of his first appearance, of the + gentleman from outside who had inquired into the affairs of the Father of + the Marshalsea with the stupendous idea of getting him out, and of the + gentleman from outside who took an interest in the child of the + Marshalsea, Clennam soon became a visitor of mark. He was not surprised by + the attentions he received from Mr Chivery when that officer was on the + lock, for he made little distinction between Mr Chivery’s politeness and + that of the other turnkeys. It was on one particular afternoon that Mr + Chivery surprised him all at once, and stood forth from his companions in + bold relief. + </p> + <p> + Mr Chivery, by some artful exercise of his power of clearing the Lodge, + had contrived to rid it of all sauntering Collegians; so that Clennam, + coming out of the prison, should find him on duty alone. + </p> + <p> + ‘(Private) I ask your pardon, sir,’ said Mr Chivery in a secret manner; + ‘but which way might you be going?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going over the Bridge.’ He saw in Mr Chivery, with some + astonishment, quite an Allegory of Silence, as he stood with his key on + his lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘(Private) I ask your pardon again,’ said Mr Chivery, ‘but could you go + round by Horsemonger Lane? Could you by any means find time to look in at + that address?’ handing him a little card, printed for circulation among + the connection of Chivery and Co., Tobacconists, Importers of pure + Havannah Cigars, Bengal Cheroots, and fine-flavoured Cubas, Dealers in + Fancy Snuffs, &c. &c. + </p> + <p> + ‘(Private) It an’t tobacco business,’ said Mr Chivery. ‘The truth is, it’s + my wife. She’s wishful to say a word to you, sir, upon a point respecting—yes,’ + said Mr Chivery, answering Clennam’s look of apprehension with a nod, + ‘respecting <i>her</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will make a point of seeing your wife directly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir. Much obliged. It an’t above ten minutes out of your way. + Please to ask for <i>Mrs</i> Chivery!’ These instructions, Mr Chivery, who + had already let him out, cautiously called through a little slide in the + outer door, which he could draw back from within for the inspection of + visitors when it pleased him. + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam, with the card in his hand, betook himself to the address + set forth upon it, and speedily arrived there. It was a very small + establishment, wherein a decent woman sat behind the counter working at + her needle. Little jars of tobacco, little boxes of cigars, a little + assortment of pipes, a little jar or two of snuff, and a little instrument + like a shoeing horn for serving it out, composed the retail stock in + trade. + </p> + <p> + Arthur mentioned his name, and his having promised to call, on the + solicitation of Mr Chivery. About something relating to Miss Dorrit, he + believed. Mrs Chivery at once laid aside her work, rose up from her seat + behind the counter, and deploringly shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘You may see him now,’ said she, ‘if you’ll condescend to take a peep.’ + </p> + <p> + With these mysterious words, she preceded the visitor into a little + parlour behind the shop, with a little window in it commanding a very + little dull back-yard. In this yard a wash of sheets and table-cloths + tried (in vain, for want of air) to get itself dried on a line or two; and + among those flapping articles was sitting in a chair, like the last + mariner left alive on the deck of a damp ship without the power of furling + the sails, a little woe-begone young man. + </p> + <p> + ‘Our John,’ said Mrs Chivery. + </p> + <p> + Not to be deficient in interest, Clennam asked what he might be doing + there? + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s the only change he takes,’ said Mrs Chivery, shaking her head + afresh. ‘He won’t go out, even in the back-yard, when there’s no linen; + but when there’s linen to keep the neighbours’ eyes off, he’ll sit there, + hours. Hours he will. Says he feels as if it was groves!’ Mrs Chivery + shook her head again, put her apron in a motherly way to her eyes, and + reconducted her visitor into the regions of the business. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please to take a seat, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery. ‘Miss Dorrit is the matter + with Our John, sir; he’s a breaking his heart for her, and I would wish to + take the liberty to ask how it’s to be made good to his parents when + bust?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Chivery, who was a comfortable-looking woman much respected about + Horsemonger Lane for her feelings and her conversation, uttered this + speech with fell composure, and immediately afterwards began again to + shake her head and dry her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said she in continuation, ‘you are acquainted with the family, and + have interested yourself with the family, and are influential with the + family. If you can promote views calculated to make two young people + happy, let me, for Our John’s sake, and for both their sakes, implore you + so to do!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been so habituated,’ returned Arthur, at a loss, ‘during the short + time I have known her, to consider Little—I have been so habituated + to consider Miss Dorrit in a light altogether removed from that in which + you present her to me, that you quite take me by surprise. Does she know + your son?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Brought up together, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery. ‘Played together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does she know your son as her admirer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! bless you, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery, with a sort of triumphant shiver, + ‘she never could have seen him on a Sunday without knowing he was that. + His cane alone would have told it long ago, if nothing else had. Young men + like John don’t take to ivory hands a pinting, for nothing. How did I + first know it myself? Similarly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps Miss Dorrit may not be so ready as you, you see.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then she knows it, sir,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘by word of mouth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you sure?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘sure and certain as in this house I am. I see my + son go out with my own eyes when in this house I was, and I see my son + come in with my own eyes when in this house I was, and I know he done it!’ + Mrs Chivery derived a surprising force of emphasis from the foregoing + circumstantiality and repetition. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask you how he came to fall into the desponding state which causes + you so much uneasiness?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘took place on that same day when to this house + I see that John with these eyes return. Never been himself in this house + since. Never was like what he has been since, not from the hour when to + this house seven year ago me and his father, as tenants by the quarter, + came!’ An effect in the nature of an affidavit was gained from this speech + by Mrs Chivery’s peculiar power of construction. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I venture to inquire what is your version of the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may,’ said Mrs Chivery, ‘and I will give it to you in honour and in + word as true as in this shop I stand. Our John has every one’s good word + and every one’s good wish. He played with her as a child when in that yard + a child she played. He has known her ever since. He went out upon the + Sunday afternoon when in this very parlour he had dined, and met her, with + appointment or without appointment; which, I do not pretend to say. He + made his offer to her. Her brother and sister is high in their views, and + against Our John. Her father is all for himself in his views and against + sharing her with any one. Under which circumstances she has answered Our + John, “No, John, I cannot have you, I cannot have any husband, it is not + my intentions ever to become a wife, it is my intentions to be always a + sacrifice, farewell, find another worthy of you, and forget me!” This is + the way in which she is doomed to be a constant slave to them that are not + worthy that a constant slave she unto them should be. This is the way in + which Our John has come to find no pleasure but in taking cold among the + linen, and in showing in that yard, as in that yard I have myself shown + you, a broken-down ruin that goes home to his mother’s heart!’ Here the + good woman pointed to the little window, whence her son might be seen + sitting disconsolate in the tuneless groves; and again shook her head and + wiped her eyes, and besought him, for the united sakes of both the young + people, to exercise his influence towards the bright reversal of these + dismal events. + </p> + <p> + She was so confident in her exposition of the case, and it was so + undeniably founded on correct premises in so far as the relative positions + of Little Dorrit and her family were concerned, that Clennam could not + feel positive on the other side. He had come to attach to Little Dorrit an + interest so peculiar—an interest that removed her from, while it + grew out of, the common and coarse things surrounding her—that he + found it disappointing, disagreeable, almost painful, to suppose her in + love with young Mr Chivery in the back-yard, or any such person. On the + other hand, he reasoned with himself that she was just as good and just as + true in love with him, as not in love with him; and that to make a kind of + domesticated fairy of her, on the penalty of isolation at heart from the + only people she knew, would be but a weakness of his own fancy, and not a + kind one. Still, her youthful and ethereal appearance, her timid manner, + the charm of her sensitive voice and eyes, the very many respects in which + she had interested him out of her own individuality, and the strong + difference between herself and those about her, were not in unison, and + were determined not to be in unison, with this newly presented idea. + </p> + <p> + He told the worthy Mrs Chivery, after turning these things over in his + mind—he did that, indeed, while she was yet speaking—that he + might be relied upon to do his utmost at all times to promote the + happiness of Miss Dorrit, and to further the wishes of her heart if it + were in his power to do so, and if he could discover what they were. At + the same time he cautioned her against assumptions and appearances; + enjoined strict silence and secrecy, lest Miss Dorrit should be made + unhappy; and particularly advised her to endeavour to win her son’s + confidence and so to make quite sure of the state of the case. Mrs Chivery + considered the latter precaution superfluous, but said she would try. She + shook her head as if she had not derived all the comfort she had fondly + expected from this interview, but thanked him nevertheless for the trouble + he had kindly taken. They then parted good friends, and Arthur walked + away. + </p> + <p> + The crowd in the street jostling the crowd in his mind, and the two crowds + making a confusion, he avoided London Bridge, and turned off in the + quieter direction of the Iron Bridge. He had scarcely set foot upon it, + when he saw Little Dorrit walking on before him. It was a pleasant day, + with a light breeze blowing, and she seemed to have that minute come there + for air. He had left her in her father’s room within an hour. + </p> + <p> + It was a timely chance, favourable to his wish of observing her face and + manner when no one else was by. He quickened his pace; but before he + reached her, she turned her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have I startled you?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought I knew the step,’ she answered, hesitating. + </p> + <p> + ‘And did you know it, Little Dorrit? You could hardly have expected mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not expect any. But when I heard a step, I thought it—sounded + like yours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you going further?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, I am only walking here for a little change.’ + </p> + <p> + They walked together, and she recovered her confiding manner with him, and + looked up in his face as she said, after glancing around: + </p> + <p> + ‘It is so strange. Perhaps you can hardly understand it. I sometimes have + a sensation as if it was almost unfeeling to walk here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unfeeling?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To see the river, and so much sky, and so many objects, and such change + and motion. Then to go back, you know, and find him in the same cramped + place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah yes! But going back, you must remember that you take with you the + spirit and influence of such things to cheer him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I? I hope I may! I am afraid you fancy too much, sir, and make me out + too powerful. If you were in prison, could I bring such comfort to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Little Dorrit, I am sure of it.’ + </p> + <p> + He gathered from a tremor on her lip, and a passing shadow of great + agitation on her face, that her mind was with her father. He remained + silent for a few moments, that she might regain her composure. The Little + Dorrit, trembling on his arm, was less in unison than ever with Mrs + Chivery’s theory, and yet was not irreconcilable with a new fancy which + sprung up within him, that there might be some one else in the hopeless—newer + fancy still—in the hopeless unattainable distance. + </p> + <p> + They turned, and Clennam said, Here was Maggy coming! Little Dorrit looked + up, surprised, and they confronted Maggy, who brought herself at sight of + them to a dead stop. She had been trotting along, so preoccupied and busy + that she had not recognised them until they turned upon her. She was now + in a moment so conscience-stricken that her very basket partook of the + change. + </p> + <p> + ‘Maggy, you promised me to stop near father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I would, Little Mother, only he wouldn’t let me. If he takes and sends + me out I must go. If he takes and says, “Maggy, you hurry away and back + with that letter, and you shall have a sixpence if the answer’s a good + ‘un,” I must take it. Lor, Little Mother, what’s a poor thing of ten year + old to do? And if Mr Tip—if he happens to be a coming in as I come + out, and if he says “Where are you going, Maggy?” and if I says, “I’m a + going So and So,” and if he says, “I’ll have a Try too,” and if he goes + into the George and writes a letter and if he gives it me and says, “Take + that one to the same place, and if the answer’s a good ‘un I’ll give you a + shilling,” it ain’t my fault, mother!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur read, in Little Dorrit’s downcast eyes, to whom she foresaw that + the letters were addressed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m a going So and So. There! That’s where I am a going to,’ said Maggy. + ‘I’m a going So and So. It ain’t you, Little Mother, that’s got anything + to do with it—it’s you, you know,’ said Maggy, addressing Arthur. + ‘You’d better come, So and So, and let me take and give ‘em to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We will not be so particular as that, Maggy. Give them me here,’ said + Clennam in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, then, come across the road,’ answered Maggy in a very loud whisper. + ‘Little Mother wasn’t to know nothing of it, and she would never have + known nothing of it if you had only gone So and So, instead of bothering + and loitering about. It ain’t my fault. I must do what I am told. They + ought to be ashamed of themselves for telling me.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam crossed to the other side, and hurriedly opened the letters. That + from the father mentioned that most unexpectedly finding himself in the + novel position of having been disappointed of a remittance from the City + on which he had confidently counted, he took up his pen, being restrained + by the unhappy circumstance of his incarceration during three-and-twenty + years (doubly underlined), from coming himself, as he would otherwise + certainly have done—took up his pen to entreat Mr Clennam to advance + him the sum of Three Pounds Ten Shillings upon his I.O.U., which he begged + to enclose. That from the son set forth that Mr Clennam would, he knew, be + gratified to hear that he had at length obtained permanent employment of a + highly satisfactory nature, accompanied with every prospect of complete + success in life; but that the temporary inability of his employer to pay + him his arrears of salary to that date (in which condition said employer + had appealed to that generous forbearance in which he trusted he should + never be wanting towards a fellow-creature), combined with the fraudulent + conduct of a false friend and the present high price of provisions, had + reduced him to the verge of ruin, unless he could by a quarter before six + that evening raise the sum of eight pounds. This sum, Mr Clennam would be + happy to learn, he had, through the promptitude of several friends who had + a lively confidence in his probity, already raised, with the exception of + a trifling balance of one pound seventeen and fourpence; the loan of which + balance, for the period of one month, would be fraught with the usual + beneficent consequences. + </p> + <p> + These letters Clennam answered with the aid of his pencil and pocket-book, + on the spot; sending the father what he asked for, and excusing himself + from compliance with the demand of the son. He then commissioned Maggy to + return with his replies, and gave her the shilling of which the failure of + her supplemental enterprise would have disappointed her otherwise. + </p> + <p> + When he rejoined Little Dorrit, and they had begun walking as before, she + said all at once: + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I had better go. I had better go home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be distressed,’ said Clennam, ‘I have answered the letters. They + were nothing. You know what they were. They were nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I am afraid,’ she returned, ‘to leave him, I am afraid to leave any + of them. When I am gone, they pervert—but they don’t mean it—even + Maggy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was a very innocent commission that she undertook, poor thing. And in + keeping it secret from you, she supposed, no doubt, that she was only + saving you uneasiness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I hope so, I hope so. But I had better go home! It was but the other + day that my sister told me I had become so used to the prison that I had + its tone and character. It must be so. I am sure it must be when I see + these things. My place is there. I am better there, it is unfeeling in me + to be here, when I can do the least thing there. Good-bye. I had far + better stay at home!’ + </p> + <p> + The agonised way in which she poured this out, as if it burst of itself + from her suppressed heart, made it difficult for Clennam to keep the tears + from his eyes as he saw and heard her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t call it home, my child!’ he entreated. ‘It is always painful to me + to hear you call it home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is home! What else can I call home? Why should I ever forget it + for a single moment?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never do, dear Little Dorrit, in any good and true service.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope not, O I hope not! But it is better for me to stay there; much + better, much more dutiful, much happier. Please don’t go with me, let me + go by myself. Good-bye, God bless you. Thank you, thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + He felt that it was better to respect her entreaty, and did not move while + her slight form went quickly away from him. When it had fluttered out of + sight, he turned his face towards the water and stood thinking. + </p> + <p> + She would have been distressed at any time by this discovery of the + letters; but so much so, and in that unrestrainable way? + </p> + <p> + No. + </p> + <p> + When she had seen her father begging with his threadbare disguise on, when + she had entreated him not to give her father money, she had been + distressed, but not like this. Something had made her keenly and + additionally sensitive just now. Now, was there some one in the hopeless + unattainable distance? Or had the suspicion been brought into his mind, by + his own associations of the troubled river running beneath the bridge with + the same river higher up, its changeless tune upon the prow of the + ferry-boat, so many miles an hour the peaceful flowing of the stream, here + the rushes, there the lilies, nothing uncertain or unquiet? + </p> + <p> + He thought of his poor child, Little Dorrit, for a long time there; he + thought of her going home; he thought of her in the night; he thought of + her when the day came round again. And the poor child Little Dorrit + thought of him—too faithfully, ah, too faithfully!—in the + shadow of the Marshalsea wall. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0023"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 23. Machinery in Motion + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>r Meagles bestirred himself with such prompt activity in the matter of + the negotiation with Daniel Doyce which Clennam had entrusted to him, that + he soon brought it into business train, and called on Clennam at nine + o’clock one morning to make his report. + </p> + <p> + ‘Doyce is highly gratified by your good opinion,’ he opened the business + by saying, ‘and desires nothing so much as that you should examine the + affairs of the Works for yourself, and entirely understand them. He has + handed me the keys of all his books and papers—here they are + jingling in this pocket—and the only charge he has given me is “Let + Mr Clennam have the means of putting himself on a perfect equality with me + as to knowing whatever I know. If it should come to nothing after all, he + will respect my confidence. Unless I was sure of that to begin with, I + should have nothing to do with him.” And there, you see,’ said Mr Meagles, + ‘you have Daniel Doyce all over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A very honourable character.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, yes, to be sure. Not a doubt of it. Odd, but very honourable. Very + odd though. Now, would you believe, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, with a + hearty enjoyment of his friend’s eccentricity, ‘that I had a whole morning + in What’s-his-name Yard—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bleeding Heart?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A whole morning in Bleeding Heart Yard, before I could induce him to + pursue the subject at all?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How was that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How was that, my friend? I no sooner mentioned your name in connection + with it than he declared off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Declared off on my account?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I no sooner mentioned your name, Clennam, than he said, “That will never + do!” What did he mean by that? I asked him. No matter, Meagles; that would + never do. Why would it never do? You’ll hardly believe it, Clennam,’ said + Mr Meagles, laughing within himself, ‘but it came out that it would never + do, because you and he, walking down to Twickenham together, had glided + into a friendly conversation in the course of which he had referred to his + intention of taking a partner, supposing at the time that you were as + firmly and finally settled as St Paul’s Cathedral. “Whereas,” says he, “Mr + Clennam might now believe, if I entertained his proposition, that I had a + sinister and designing motive in what was open free speech. Which I can’t + bear,” says he, “which I really am too proud to bear.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should as soon suspect—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course you would,’ interrupted Mr Meagles, ‘and so I told him. But it + took a morning to scale that wall; and I doubt if any other man than + myself (he likes me of old) could have got his leg over it. Well, Clennam. + This business-like obstacle surmounted, he then stipulated that before + resuming with you I should look over the books and form my own opinion. I + looked over the books, and formed my own opinion. “Is it, on the whole, + for, or against?” says he. “For,” says I. “Then,” says he, “you may now, + my good friend, give Mr Clennam the means of forming his opinion. To + enable him to do which, without bias and with perfect freedom, I shall go + out of town for a week.” And he’s gone,’ said Mr Meagles; ‘that’s the rich + conclusion of the thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Leaving me,’ said Clennam, ‘with a high sense, I must say, of his candour + and his—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oddity,’ Mr Meagles struck in. ‘I should think so!’ + </p> + <p> + It was not exactly the word on Clennam’s lips, but he forbore to interrupt + his good-humoured friend. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ added Mr Meagles, ‘you can begin to look into matters as soon + as you think proper. I have undertaken to explain where you may want + explanation, but to be strictly impartial, and to do nothing more.’ + </p> + <p> + They began their perquisitions in Bleeding Heart Yard that same forenoon. + Little peculiarities were easily to be detected by experienced eyes in Mr + Doyce’s way of managing his affairs, but they almost always involved some + ingenious simplification of a difficulty, and some plain road to the + desired end. That his papers were in arrear, and that he stood in need of + assistance to develop the capacity of his business, was clear enough; but + all the results of his undertakings during many years were distinctly set + forth, and were ascertainable with ease. Nothing had been done for the + purposes of the pending investigation; everything was in its genuine + working dress, and in a certain honest rugged order. The calculations and + entries, in his own hand, of which there were many, were bluntly written, + and with no very neat precision; but were always plain and directed + straight to the purpose. It occurred to Arthur that a far more elaborate + and taking show of business—such as the records of the + Circumlocution Office made perhaps—might be far less serviceable, as + being meant to be far less intelligible. + </p> + <p> + Three or four days of steady application tendered him master of all the + facts it was essential to become acquainted with. Mr Meagles was at hand + the whole time, always ready to illuminate any dim place with the bright + little safety-lamp belonging to the scales and scoop. Between them they + agreed upon the sum it would be fair to offer for the purchase of a + half-share in the business, and then Mr Meagles unsealed a paper in which + Daniel Doyce had noted the amount at which he valued it; which was even + something less. Thus, when Daniel came back, he found the affair as good + as concluded. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I may now avow, Mr Clennam,’ said he, with a cordial shake of the + hand, ‘that if I had looked high and low for a partner, I believe I could + not have found one more to my mind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I say the same,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I say of both of you,’ added Mr Meagles, ‘that you are well matched. + You keep him in check, Clennam, with your common sense, and you stick to + the Works, Dan, with your—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Uncommon sense?’ suggested Daniel, with his quiet smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘You may call it so, if you like—and each of you will be a right + hand to the other. Here’s my own right hand upon it, as a practical man, + to both of you.’ + </p> + <p> + The purchase was completed within a month. It left Arthur in possession of + private personal means not exceeding a few hundred pounds; but it opened + to him an active and promising career. The three friends dined together on + the auspicious occasion; the factory and the factory wives and children + made holiday and dined too; even Bleeding Heart Yard dined and was full of + meat. Two months had barely gone by in all, when Bleeding Heart Yard had + become so familiar with short-commons again, that the treat was forgotten + there; when nothing seemed new in the partnership but the paint of the + inscription on the door-posts, DOYCE AND CLENNAM; when it appeared even to + Clennam himself, that he had had the affairs of the firm in his mind for + years. + </p> + <p> + The little counting-house reserved for his own occupation, was a room of + wood and glass at the end of a long low workshop, filled with benches, and + vices, and tools, and straps, and wheels; which, when they were in gear + with the steam-engine, went tearing round as though they had a suicidal + mission to grind the business to dust and tear the factory to pieces. A + communication of great trap-doors in the floor and roof with the workshop + above and the workshop below, made a shaft of light in this perspective, + which brought to Clennam’s mind the child’s old picture-book, where + similar rays were the witnesses of Abel’s murder. The noises were + sufficiently removed and shut out from the counting-house to blend into a + busy hum, interspersed with periodical clinks and thumps. The patient + figures at work were swarthy with the filings of iron and steel that + danced on every bench and bubbled up through every chink in the planking. + The workshop was arrived at by a step-ladder from the outer yard below, + where it served as a shelter for the large grindstone where tools were + sharpened. The whole had at once a fanciful and practical air in Clennam’s + eyes, which was a welcome change; and, as often as he raised them from his + first work of getting the array of business documents into perfect order, + he glanced at these things with a feeling of pleasure in his pursuit that + was new to him. + </p> + <p> + Raising his eyes thus one day, he was surprised to see a bonnet labouring + up the step-ladder. The unusual apparition was followed by another bonnet. + He then perceived that the first bonnet was on the head of Mr F.‘s Aunt, + and that the second bonnet was on the head of Flora, who seemed to have + propelled her legacy up the steep ascent with considerable difficulty. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0244m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0244m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0244.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Though not altogether enraptured at the sight of these visitors, Clennam + lost no time in opening the counting-house door, and extricating them from + the workshop; a rescue which was rendered the more necessary by Mr F.‘s + Aunt already stumbling over some impediment, and menacing steam power as + an Institution with a stony reticule she carried. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious, Arthur,—I should say Mr Clennam, far more proper—the + climb we have had to get up here and how ever to get down again without a + fire-escape and Mr F.‘s Aunt slipping through the steps and bruised all + over and you in the machinery and foundry way too only think, and never + told us!’ + </p> + <p> + Thus, Flora, out of breath. Meanwhile, Mr F.‘s Aunt rubbed her esteemed + insteps with her umbrella, and vindictively glared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Most unkind never to have come back to see us since that day, though + naturally it was not to be expected that there should be any attraction at + <i>our</i> house and you were much more pleasantly engaged, that’s pretty + certain, and is she fair or dark blue eyes or black I wonder, not that I + expect that she should be anything but a perfect contrast to me in all + particulars for I am a disappointment as I very well know and you are + quite right to be devoted no doubt though what I am saying Arthur never + mind I hardly know myself Good gracious!’ + </p> + <p> + By this time he had placed chairs for them in the counting-house. As Flora + dropped into hers, she bestowed the old look upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘And to think of Doyce and Clennam, and who Doyce can be,’ said Flora; + ‘delightful man no doubt and married perhaps or perhaps a daughter, now + has he really? then one understands the partnership and sees it all, don’t + tell me anything about it for I know I have no claim to ask the question + the golden chain that once was forged being snapped and very proper.’ + </p> + <p> + Flora put her hand tenderly on his, and gave him another of the youthful + glances. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Arthur—force of habit, Mr Clennam every way more delicate and + adapted to existing circumstances—I must beg to be excused for + taking the liberty of this intrusion but I thought I might so far presume + upon old times for ever faded never more to bloom as to call with Mr F.‘s + Aunt to congratulate and offer best wishes, A great deal superior to China + not to be denied and much nearer though higher up!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very happy to see you,’ said Clennam, ‘and I thank you, Flora, very + much for your kind remembrance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘More than I can say myself at any rate,’ returned Flora, ‘for I might + have been dead and buried twenty distinct times over and no doubt whatever + should have been before you had genuinely remembered Me or anything like + it in spite of which one last remark I wish to make, one last explanation + I wish to offer—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mrs Finching,’ Arthur remonstrated in alarm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh not that disagreeable name, say Flora!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flora, is it worth troubling yourself afresh to enter into explanations? + I assure you none are needed. I am satisfied—I am perfectly + satisfied.’ + </p> + <p> + A diversion was occasioned here, by Mr F.‘s Aunt making the following + inexorable and awful statement: + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s mile-stones on the Dover road!’ + </p> + <p> + With such mortal hostility towards the human race did she discharge this + missile, that Clennam was quite at a loss how to defend himself; the + rather as he had been already perplexed in his mind by the honour of a + visit from this venerable lady, when it was plain she held him in the + utmost abhorrence. He could not but look at her with disconcertment, as + she sat breathing bitterness and scorn, and staring leagues away. Flora, + however, received the remark as if it had been of a most apposite and + agreeable nature; approvingly observing aloud that Mr F.‘s Aunt had a + great deal of spirit. Stimulated either by this compliment, or by her + burning indignation, that illustrious woman then added, ‘Let him meet it + if he can!’ And, with a rigid movement of her stony reticule (an appendage + of great size and of a fossil appearance), indicated that Clennam was the + unfortunate person at whom the challenge was hurled. + </p> + <p> + ‘One last remark,’ resumed Flora, ‘I was going to say I wish to make one + last explanation I wish to offer, Mr F.‘s Aunt and myself would not have + intruded on business hours Mr F. having been in business and though the + wine trade still business is equally business call it what you will and + business habits are just the same as witness Mr F. himself who had his + slippers always on the mat at ten minutes before six in the afternoon and + his boots inside the fender at ten minutes before eight in the morning to + the moment in all weathers light or dark—would not therefore have + intruded without a motive which being kindly meant it may be hoped will be + kindly taken Arthur, Mr Clennam far more proper, even Doyce and Clennam + probably more business-like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray say nothing in the way of apology,’ Arthur entreated. ‘You are + always welcome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very polite of you to say so Arthur—cannot remember Mr Clennam + until the word is out, such is the habit of times for ever fled, and so + true it is that oft in the stilly night ere slumber’s chain has bound + people, fond memory brings the light of other days around people—very + polite but more polite than true I am afraid, for to go into the machinery + business without so much as sending a line or a card to papa—I don’t + say me though there was a time but that is past and stern reality has now + my gracious never mind—does not look like it you must confess.’ + </p> + <p> + Even Flora’s commas seemed to have fled on this occasion; she was so much + more disjointed and voluble than in the preceding interview. + </p> + <p> + ‘Though indeed,’ she hurried on, ‘nothing else is to be expected and why + should it be expected and if it’s not to be expected why should it be, and + I am far from blaming you or any one, When your mama and my papa worried + us to death and severed the golden bowl—I mean bond but I dare say + you know what I mean and if you don’t you don’t lose much and care just as + little I will venture to add—when they severed the golden bond that + bound us and threw us into fits of crying on the sofa nearly choked at + least myself everything was changed and in giving my hand to Mr F. I know + I did so with my eyes open but he was so very unsettled and in such low + spirits that he had distractedly alluded to the river if not oil of + something from the chemist’s and I did it for the best.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My good Flora, we settled that before. It was all quite right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s perfectly clear you think so,’ returned Flora, ‘for you take it very + coolly, if I hadn’t known it to be China I should have guessed myself the + Polar regions, dear Mr Clennam you are right however and I cannot blame + you but as to Doyce and Clennam papa’s property being about here we heard + it from Pancks and but for him we never should have heard one word about + it I am satisfied.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, don’t say that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What nonsense not to say it Arthur—Doyce and Clennam—easier + and less trying to me than Mr Clennam—when I know it and you know it + too and can’t deny it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I do deny it, Flora. I should soon have made you a friendly visit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ said Flora, tossing her head. ‘I dare say!’ and she gave him another + of the old looks. ‘However when Pancks told us I made up my mind that Mr + F.‘s Aunt and I would come and call because when papa—which was + before that—happened to mention her name to me and to say that you + were interested in her I said at the moment Good gracious why not have her + here then when there’s anything to do instead of putting it out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When you say Her,’ observed Clennam, by this time pretty well bewildered, + ‘do you mean Mr F.‘s—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My goodness, Arthur—Doyce and Clennam really easier to me with old + remembrances—who ever heard of Mr F.‘s Aunt doing needlework and + going out by the day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Going out by the day! Do you speak of Little Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why yes of course,’ returned Flora; ‘and of all the strangest names I + ever heard the strangest, like a place down in the country with a + turnpike, or a favourite pony or a puppy or a bird or something from a + seed-shop to be put in a garden or a flower-pot and come up speckled.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, Flora,’ said Arthur, with a sudden interest in the conversation, + ‘Mr Casby was so kind as to mention Little Dorrit to you, was he? What did + he say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh you know what papa is,’ rejoined Flora, ‘and how aggravatingly he sits + looking beautiful and turning his thumbs over and over one another till he + makes one giddy if one keeps one’s eyes upon him, he said when we were + talking of you—I don’t know who began the subject Arthur (Doyce and + Clennam) but I am sure it wasn’t me, at least I hope not but you really + must excuse my confessing more on that point.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly,’ said Arthur. ‘By all means.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very ready,’ pouted Flora, coming to a sudden stop in a + captivating bashfulness, ‘that I must admit, Papa said you had spoken of + her in an earnest way and I said what I have told you and that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all?’ said Arthur, a little disappointed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Except that when Pancks told us of your having embarked in this business + and with difficulty persuaded us that it was really you I said to Mr F.‘s + Aunt then we would come and ask you if it would be agreeable to all + parties that she should be engaged at our house when required for I know + she often goes to your mama’s and I know that your mama has a very touchy + temper Arthur—Doyce and Clennam—or I never might have married + Mr F. and might have been at this hour but I am running into nonsense.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was very kind of you, Flora, to think of this.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Flora rejoined with a plain sincerity which became her better than + her youngest glances, that she was glad he thought so. She said it with so + much heart that Clennam would have given a great deal to buy his old + character of her on the spot, and throw it and the mermaid away for ever. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, Flora,’ he said, ‘that the employment you can give Little + Dorrit, and the kindness you can show her—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes and I will,’ said Flora, quickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure of it—will be a great assistance and support to her. I do + not feel that I have the right to tell you what I know of her, for I + acquired the knowledge confidentially, and under circumstances that bind + me to silence. But I have an interest in the little creature, and a + respect for her that I cannot express to you. Her life has been one of + such trial and devotion, and such quiet goodness, as you can scarcely + imagine. I can hardly think of her, far less speak of her, without feeling + moved. Let that feeling represent what I could tell you, and commit her to + your friendliness with my thanks.’ + </p> + <p> + Once more he put out his hand frankly to poor Flora; once more poor Flora + couldn’t accept it frankly, found it worth nothing openly, must make the + old intrigue and mystery of it. As much to her own enjoyment as to his + dismay, she covered it with a corner of her shawl as she took it. Then, + looking towards the glass front of the counting-house, and seeing two + figures approaching, she cried with infinite relish, ‘Papa! Hush, Arthur, + for Mercy’s sake!’ and tottered back to her chair with an amazing + imitation of being in danger of swooning, in the dread surprise and + maidenly flutter of her spirits. + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch, meanwhile, came inanely beaming towards the counting-house + in the wake of Pancks. Pancks opened the door for him, towed him in, and + retired to his own moorings in a corner. + </p> + <p> + ‘I heard from Flora,’ said the Patriarch with his benevolent smile, ‘that + she was coming to call, coming to call. And being out, I thought I’d come + also, thought I’d come also.’ + </p> + <p> + The benign wisdom he infused into this declaration (not of itself + profound), by means of his blue eyes, his shining head, and his long white + hair, was most impressive. It seemed worth putting down among the noblest + sentiments enunciated by the best of men. Also, when he said to Clennam, + seating himself in the proffered chair, ‘And you are in a new business, Mr + Clennam? I wish you well, sir, I wish you well!’ he seemed to have done + benevolent wonders. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Finching has been telling me, sir,’ said Arthur, after making his + acknowledgments; the relict of the late Mr F. meanwhile protesting, with a + gesture, against his use of that respectable name; ‘that she hopes + occasionally to employ the young needlewoman you recommended to my mother. + For which I have been thanking her.’ + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch turning his head in a lumbering way towards Pancks, that + assistant put up the note-book in which he had been absorbed, and took him + in tow. + </p> + <p> + ‘You didn’t recommend her, you know,’ said Pancks; ‘how could you? You + knew nothing about her, you didn’t. The name was mentioned to you, and you + passed it on. That’s what <i>you</i> did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Clennam. ‘As she justifies any recommendation, it is much the + same thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are glad she turns out well,’ said Pancks, ‘but it wouldn’t have been + your fault if she had turned out ill. The credit’s not yours as it is, and + the blame wouldn’t have been yours as it might have been. You gave no + guarantee. You knew nothing about her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not acquainted, then,’ said Arthur, hazarding a random question, + ‘with any of her family?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Acquainted with any of her family?’ returned Pancks. ‘How should you be + acquainted with any of her family? You never heard of ‘em. You can’t be + acquainted with people you never heard of, can you? You should think not!’ + </p> + <p> + All this time the Patriarch sat serenely smiling; nodding or shaking his + head benevolently, as the case required. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to being a reference,’ said Pancks, ‘you know, in a general way, what + being a reference means. It’s all your eye, that is! Look at your tenants + down the Yard here. They’d all be references for one another, if you’d let + ‘em. What would be the good of letting ‘em? It’s no satisfaction to be + done by two men instead of one. One’s enough. A person who can’t pay, gets + another person who can’t pay, to guarantee that he can pay. Like a person + with two wooden legs getting another person with two wooden legs, to + guarantee that he has got two natural legs. It don’t make either of them + able to do a walking match. And four wooden legs are more troublesome to + you than two, when you don’t want any.’ Mr Pancks concluded by blowing off + that steam of his. + </p> + <p> + A momentary silence that ensued was broken by Mr F.‘s Aunt, who had been + sitting upright in a cataleptic state since her last public remark. She + now underwent a violent twitch, calculated to produce a startling effect + on the nerves of the uninitiated, and with the deadliest animosity + observed: + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t make a head and brains out of a brass knob with nothing in it. + You couldn’t do it when your Uncle George was living; much less when he’s + dead.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks was not slow to reply, with his usual calmness, ‘Indeed, ma’am! + Bless my soul! I’m surprised to hear it.’ Despite his presence of mind, + however, the speech of Mr F.‘s Aunt produced a depressing effect on the + little assembly; firstly, because it was impossible to disguise that + Clennam’s unoffending head was the particular temple of reason + depreciated; and secondly, because nobody ever knew on these occasions + whose Uncle George was referred to, or what spectral presence might be + invoked under that appellation. + </p> + <p> + Therefore Flora said, though still not without a certain boastfulness and + triumph in her legacy, that Mr F.‘s Aunt was ‘very lively to-day, and she + thought they had better go.’ But Mr F.‘s Aunt proved so lively as to take + the suggestion in unexpected dudgeon and declare that she would not go; + adding, with several injurious expressions, that if ‘He’—too + evidently meaning Clennam—wanted to get rid of her, ‘let him chuck + her out of winder;’ and urgently expressing her desire to see ‘Him’ + perform that ceremony. + </p> + <p> + In this dilemma, Mr Pancks, whose resources appeared equal to any + emergency in the Patriarchal waters, slipped on his hat, slipped out at + the counting-house door, and slipped in again a moment afterwards with an + artificial freshness upon him, as if he had been in the country for some + weeks. ‘Why, bless my heart, ma’am!’ said Mr Pancks, rubbing up his hair + in great astonishment, ‘is that you? How do you <i>do</i>, ma’am? You are + looking charming to-day! I am delighted to see you. Favour me with your + arm, ma’am; we’ll have a little walk together, you and me, if you’ll + honour me with your company.’ And so escorted Mr F.‘s Aunt down the + private staircase of the counting-house with great gallantry and success. + The patriarchal Mr Casby then rose with the air of having done it himself, + and blandly followed: leaving his daughter, as she followed in her turn, + to remark to her former lover in a distracted whisper (which she very much + enjoyed), that they had drained the cup of life to the dregs; and further + to hint mysteriously that the late Mr F. was at the bottom of it. + </p> + <p> + Alone again, Clennam became a prey to his old doubts in reference to his + mother and Little Dorrit, and revolved the old thoughts and suspicions. + They were all in his mind, blending themselves with the duties he was + mechanically discharging, when a shadow on his papers caused him to look + up for the cause. The cause was Mr Pancks. With his hat thrown back upon + his ears as if his wiry prongs of hair had darted up like springs and cast + it off, with his jet-black beads of eyes inquisitively sharp, with the + fingers of his right hand in his mouth that he might bite the nails, and + with the fingers of his left hand in reserve in his pocket for another + course, Mr Pancks cast his shadow through the glass upon the books and + papers. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks asked, with a little inquiring twist of his head, if he might + come in again? Clennam replied with a nod of his head in the affirmative. + Mr Pancks worked his way in, came alongside the desk, made himself fast by + leaning his arms upon it, and started conversation with a puff and a + snort. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr F.‘s Aunt is appeased, I hope?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘All right, sir,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so unfortunate as to have awakened a strong animosity in the breast + of that lady,’ said Clennam. ‘Do you know why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does <i>she</i> know why?’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> suppose not,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + He took out his note-book, opened it, shut it, dropped it into his hat, + which was beside him on the desk, and looked in at it as it lay at the + bottom of the hat: all with a great appearance of consideration. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ he then began, ‘I am in want of information, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Connected with this firm?’ asked Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘With what then, Mr Pancks? That is to say, assuming that you want it of + me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir; yes, I want it of you,’ said Pancks, ‘if I can persuade you to + furnish it. A, B, C, D. DA, DE, DI, DO. Dictionary order. Dorrit. That’s + the name, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks blew off his peculiar noise again, and fell to at his right-hand + nails. Arthur looked searchingly at him; he returned the look. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand you, Mr Pancks.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the name that I want to know about.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what do you want to know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whatever you can and will tell me.’ This comprehensive summary of his + desires was not discharged without some heavy labouring on the part of Mr + Pancks’s machinery. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is a singular visit, Mr Pancks. It strikes me as rather + extraordinary that you should come, with such an object, to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be all extraordinary together,’ returned Pancks. ‘It may be out of + the ordinary course, and yet be business. In short, it is business. I am a + man of business. What business have I in this present world, except to + stick to business? No business.’ + </p> + <p> + With his former doubt whether this dry hard personage were quite in + earnest, Clennam again turned his eyes attentively upon his face. It was + as scrubby and dingy as ever, and as eager and quick as ever, and he could + see nothing lurking in it that was at all expressive of a latent mockery + that had seemed to strike upon his ear in the voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now,’ said Pancks, ‘to put this business on its own footing, it’s not my + proprietor’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you refer to Mr Casby as your proprietor?’ + </p> + <p> + Pancks nodded. ‘My proprietor. Put a case. Say, at my proprietor’s I hear + name—name of young person Mr Clennam wants to serve. Say, name first + mentioned to my proprietor by Plornish in the Yard. Say, I go to Plornish. + Say, I ask Plornish as a matter of business for information. Say, + Plornish, though six weeks in arrear to my proprietor, declines. Say, Mrs + Plornish declines. Say, both refer to Mr Clennam. Put the case.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ returned Pancks, ‘say, I come to him. Say, here I am.’ + </p> + <p> + With those prongs of hair sticking up all over his head, and his breath + coming and going very hard and short, the busy Pancks fell back a step (in + Tug metaphor, took half a turn astern) as if to show his dingy hull + complete, then forged a-head again, and directed his quick glance by turns + into his hat where his note-book was, and into Clennam’s face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Pancks, not to trespass on your grounds of mystery, I will be as plain + with you as I can. Let me ask two questions. First—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All right!’ said Pancks, holding up his dirty forefinger with his broken + nail. ‘I see! “What’s your motive?”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Exactly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Motive,’ said Pancks, ‘good. Nothing to do with my proprietor; not + stateable at present, ridiculous to state at present; but good. Desiring + to serve young person, name of Dorrit,’ said Pancks, with his forefinger + still up as a caution. ‘Better admit motive to be good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Secondly, and lastly, what do you want to know?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks fished up his note-book before the question was put, and + buttoning it with care in an inner breast-pocket, and looking straight at + Clennam all the time, replied with a pause and a puff, ‘I want + supplementary information of any sort.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam could not withhold a smile, as the panting little steam-tug, so + useful to that unwieldy ship, the Casby, waited on and watched him as if + it were seeking an opportunity of running in and rifling him of all he + wanted before he could resist its manoeuvres; though there was that in Mr + Pancks’s eagerness, too, which awakened many wondering speculations in his + mind. After a little consideration, he resolved to supply Mr Pancks with + such leading information as it was in his power to impart him; well + knowing that Mr Pancks, if he failed in his present research, was pretty + sure to find other means of getting it. + </p> + <p> + He, therefore, first requesting Mr Pancks to remember his voluntary + declaration that his proprietor had no part in the disclosure, and that + his own intentions were good (two declarations which that coaly little + gentleman with the greatest ardour repeated), openly told him that as to + the Dorrit lineage or former place of habitation, he had no information to + communicate, and that his knowledge of the family did not extend beyond + the fact that it appeared to be now reduced to five members; namely, to + two brothers, of whom one was single, and one a widower with three + children. The ages of the whole family he made known to Mr Pancks, as + nearly as he could guess at them; and finally he described to him the + position of the Father of the Marshalsea, and the course of time and + events through which he had become invested with that character. To all + this, Mr Pancks, snorting and blowing in a more and more portentous manner + as he became more interested, listened with great attention; appearing to + derive the most agreeable sensations from the painfullest parts of the + narrative, and particularly to be quite charmed by the account of William + Dorrit’s long imprisonment. + </p> + <p> + ‘In conclusion, Mr Pancks,’ said Arthur, ‘I have but to say this. I have + reasons beyond a personal regard for speaking as little as I can of the + Dorrit family, particularly at my mother’s house’ (Mr Pancks nodded), ‘and + for knowing as much as I can. So devoted a man of business as you are—eh?’ + </p> + <p> + For Mr Pancks had suddenly made that blowing effort with unusual force. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s nothing,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘So devoted a man of business as yourself has a perfect understanding of a + fair bargain. I wish to make a fair bargain with you, that you shall + enlighten me concerning the Dorrit family when you have it in your power, + as I have enlightened you. It may not give you a very flattering idea of + my business habits, that I failed to make my terms beforehand,’ continued + Clennam; ‘but I prefer to make them a point of honour. I have seen so much + business done on sharp principles that, to tell you the truth, Mr Pancks, + I am tired of them.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks laughed. ‘It’s a bargain, sir,’ said he. ‘You shall find me + stick to it.’ + </p> + <p> + After that, he stood a little while looking at Clennam, and biting his ten + nails all round; evidently while he fixed in his mind what he had been + told, and went over it carefully, before the means of supplying a gap in + his memory should be no longer at hand. ‘It’s all right,’ he said at last, + ‘and now I’ll wish you good day, as it’s collecting day in the Yard. + By-the-bye, though. A lame foreigner with a stick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay, ay. You do take a reference sometimes, I see?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘When he can pay, sir,’ replied Pancks. ‘Take all you can get, and keep + back all you can’t be forced to give up. That’s business. The lame + foreigner with the stick wants a top room down the Yard. Is he good for + it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am,’ said Clennam, ‘and I will answer for him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s enough. What I must have of Bleeding Heart Yard,’ said Pancks, + making a note of the case in his book, ‘is my bond. I want my bond, you + see. Pay up, or produce your property! That’s the watchword down the Yard. + The lame foreigner with the stick represented that you sent him; but he + could represent (as far as that goes) that the Great Mogul sent him. He + has been in the hospital, I believe?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. Through having met with an accident. He is only just now + discharged.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s pauperising a man, sir, I have been shown, to let him into a + hospital?’ said Pancks. And again blew off that remarkable sound. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been shown so too,’ said Clennam, coldly. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks, being by that time quite ready for a start, got under steam in + a moment, and, without any other signal or ceremony, was snorting down the + step-ladder and working into Bleeding Heart Yard, before he seemed to be + well out of the counting-house. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the remainder of the day, Bleeding Heart Yard was in + consternation, as the grim Pancks cruised in it; haranguing the + inhabitants on their backslidings in respect of payment, demanding his + bond, breathing notices to quit and executions, running down defaulters, + sending a swell of terror on before him, and leaving it in his wake. Knots + of people, impelled by a fatal attraction, lurked outside any house in + which he was known to be, listening for fragments of his discourses to the + inmates; and, when he was rumoured to be coming down the stairs, often + could not disperse so quickly but that he would be prematurely in among + them, demanding their own arrears, and rooting them to the spot. + Throughout the remainder of the day, Mr Pancks’s What were they up to? and + What did they mean by it? sounded all over the Yard. Mr Pancks wouldn’t + hear of excuses, wouldn’t hear of complaints, wouldn’t hear of repairs, + wouldn’t hear of anything but unconditional money down. Perspiring and + puffing and darting about in eccentric directions, and becoming hotter and + dingier every moment, he lashed the tide of the yard into a most agitated + and turbid state. It had not settled down into calm water again full two + hours after he had been seen fuming away on the horizon at the top of the + steps. + </p> + <p> + There were several small assemblages of the Bleeding Hearts at the popular + points of meeting in the Yard that night, among whom it was universally + agreed that Mr Pancks was a hard man to have to do with; and that it was + much to be regretted, so it was, that a gentleman like Mr Casby should put + his rents in his hands, and never know him in his true light. For (said + the Bleeding Hearts), if a gentleman with that head of hair and them eyes + took his rents into his own hands, ma’am, there would be none of this + worriting and wearing, and things would be very different. + </p> + <p> + At which identical evening hour and minute, the Patriarch—who had + floated serenely through the Yard in the forenoon before the harrying + began, with the express design of getting up this trustfulness in his + shining bumps and silken locks—at which identical hour and minute, + that first-rate humbug of a thousand guns was heavily floundering in the + little Dock of his exhausted Tug at home, and was saying, as he turned his + thumbs: + </p> + <p> + ‘A very bad day’s work, Pancks, very bad day’s work. It seems to me, sir, + and I must insist on making this observation forcibly in justice to + myself, that you ought to have got much more money, much more money.’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0024"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 24. Fortune-Telling + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ittle Dorrit received a call that same evening from Mr Plornish, who, + having intimated that he wished to speak to her privately, in a series of + coughs so very noticeable as to favour the idea that her father, as + regarded her seamstress occupation, was an illustration of the axiom that + there are no such stone-blind men as those who will not see, obtained an + audience with her on the common staircase outside the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s been a lady at our place to-day, Miss Dorrit,’ Plornish growled, + ‘and another one along with her as is a old wixen if ever I met with such. + The way she snapped a person’s head off, dear me!’ + </p> + <p> + The mild Plornish was at first quite unable to get his mind away from Mr + F.‘s Aunt. ‘For,’ said he, to excuse himself, ‘she is, I do assure you, + the winegariest party.’ + </p> + <p> + At length, by a great effort, he detached himself from the subject + sufficiently to observe: + </p> + <p> + ‘But she’s neither here nor there just at present. The other lady, she’s + Mr Casby’s daughter; and if Mr Casby an’t well off, none better, it an’t + through any fault of Pancks. For, as to Pancks, he does, he really does, + he does indeed!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Plornish, after his usual manner, was a little obscure, but + conscientiously emphatic. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what she come to our place for,’ he pursued, ‘was to leave word that + if Miss Dorrit would step up to that card—which it’s Mr Casby’s + house that is, and Pancks he has a office at the back, where he really + does, beyond belief—she would be glad for to engage her. She was a + old and a dear friend, she said particular, of Mr Clennam, and hoped for + to prove herself a useful friend to <i>his</i> friend. Them was her words. + Wishing to know whether Miss Dorrit could come to-morrow morning, I said I + would see you, Miss, and inquire, and look round there to-night, to say + yes, or, if you was engaged to-morrow, when?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can go to-morrow, thank you,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘This is very kind of + you, but you are always kind.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Plornish, with a modest disavowal of his merits, opened the room door + for her readmission, and followed her in with such an exceedingly bald + pretence of not having been out at all, that her father might have + observed it without being very suspicious. In his affable unconsciousness, + however, he took no heed. Plornish, after a little conversation, in which + he blended his former duty as a Collegian with his present privilege as a + humble outside friend, qualified again by his low estate as a plasterer, + took his leave; making the tour of the prison before he left, and looking + on at a game of skittles with the mixed feelings of an old inhabitant who + had his private reasons for believing that it might be his destiny to come + back again. + </p> + <p> + Early in the morning, Little Dorrit, leaving Maggy in high domestic trust, + set off for the Patriarchal tent. She went by the Iron Bridge, though it + cost her a penny, and walked more slowly in that part of her journey than + in any other. At five minutes before eight her hand was on the Patriarchal + knocker, which was quite as high as she could reach. + </p> + <p> + She gave Mrs Finching’s card to the young woman who opened the door, and + the young woman told her that ‘Miss Flora’—Flora having, on her + return to the parental roof, reinvested herself with the title under which + she had lived there—was not yet out of her bedroom, but she was to + please to walk up into Miss Flora’s sitting-room. She walked up into Miss + Flora’s sitting-room, as in duty bound, and there found a breakfast-table + comfortably laid for two, with a supplementary tray upon it laid for one. + The young woman, disappearing for a few moments, returned to say that she + was to please to take a chair by the fire, and to take off her bonnet and + make herself at home. But Little Dorrit, being bashful, and not used to + make herself at home on such occasions, felt at a loss how to do it; so + she was still sitting near the door with her bonnet on, when Flora came in + in a hurry half an hour afterwards. + </p> + <p> + Flora was so sorry to have kept her waiting, and good gracious why did she + sit out there in the cold when she had expected to find her by the fire + reading the paper, and hadn’t that heedless girl given her the message + then, and had she really been in her bonnet all this time, and pray for + goodness sake let Flora take it off! Flora taking it off in the + best-natured manner in the world, was so struck with the face disclosed, + that she said, ‘Why, what a good little thing you are, my dear!’ and + pressed her face between her hands like the gentlest of women. + </p> + <p> + It was the word and the action of a moment. Little Dorrit had hardly time + to think how kind it was, when Flora dashed at the breakfast-table full of + business, and plunged over head and ears into loquacity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really so sorry that I should happen to be late on this morning of all + mornings because my intention and my wish was to be ready to meet you when + you came in and to say that any one that interested Arthur Clennam half so + much must interest me and that I gave you the heartiest welcome and was so + glad, instead of which they never called me and there I still am snoring I + dare say if the truth was known and if you don’t like either cold fowl or + hot boiled ham which many people don’t I dare say besides Jews and theirs + are scruples of conscience which we must all respect though I must say I + wish they had them equally strong when they sell us false articles for + real that certainly ain’t worth the money I shall be quite vexed,’ said + Flora. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit thanked her, and said, shyly, bread-and-butter and tea was + all she usually— + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh nonsense my dear child I can never hear of that,’ said Flora, turning + on the urn in the most reckless manner, and making herself wink by + splashing hot water into her eyes as she bent down to look into the + teapot. ‘You are coming here on the footing of a friend and companion you + know if you will let me take that liberty and I should be ashamed of + myself indeed if you could come here upon any other, besides which Arthur + Clennam spoke in such terms—you are tired my dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You turn so pale you have walked too far before breakfast and I dare say + live a great way off and ought to have had a ride,’ said Flora, ‘dear dear + is there anything that would do you good?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I am quite well, ma’am. I thank you again and again, but I am + quite well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then take your tea at once I beg,’ said Flora, ‘and this wing of fowl and + bit of ham, don’t mind me or wait for me, because I always carry in this + tray myself to Mr F.‘s Aunt who breakfasts in bed and a charming old lady + too and very clever, Portrait of Mr F. behind the door and very like + though too much forehead and as to a pillar with a marble pavement and + balustrades and a mountain, I never saw him near it nor not likely in the + wine trade, excellent man but not at all in that way.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit glanced at the portrait, very imperfectly following the + references to that work of art. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr F. was so devoted to me that he never could bear me out of his sight,’ + said Flora, ‘though of course I am unable to say how long that might have + lasted if he hadn’t been cut short while I was a new broom, worthy man but + not poetical manly prose but not romance.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit glanced at the portrait again. The artist had given it a + head that would have been, in an intellectual point of view, top-heavy for + Shakespeare. + </p> + <p> + ‘Romance, however,’ Flora went on, busily arranging Mr F.‘s Aunt’s toast, + ‘as I openly said to Mr F. when he proposed to me and you will be + surprised to hear that he proposed seven times once in a hackney-coach + once in a boat once in a pew once on a donkey at Tunbridge Wells and the + rest on his knees, Romance was fled with the early days of Arthur Clennam, + our parents tore us asunder we became marble and stern reality usurped the + throne, Mr F. said very much to his credit that he was perfectly aware of + it and even preferred that state of things accordingly the word was spoken + the fiat went forth and such is life you see my dear and yet we do not + break but bend, pray make a good breakfast while I go in with the tray.’ + </p> + <p> + She disappeared, leaving Little Dorrit to ponder over the meaning of her + scattered words. She soon came back again; and at last began to take her + own breakfast, talking all the while. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, my dear,’ said Flora, measuring out a spoonful or two of some + brown liquid that smelt like brandy, and putting it into her tea, ‘I am + obliged to be careful to follow the directions of my medical man though + the flavour is anything but agreeable being a poor creature and it may be + have never recovered the shock received in youth from too much giving way + to crying in the next room when separated from Arthur, have you known him + long?’ + </p> + <p> + As soon as Little Dorrit comprehended that she had been asked this + question—for which time was necessary, the galloping pace of her new + patroness having left her far behind—she answered that she had known + Mr Clennam ever since his return. + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure you couldn’t have known him before unless you had been in + China or had corresponded neither of which is likely,’ returned Flora, + ‘for travelling-people usually get more or less mahogany and you are not + at all so and as to corresponding what about? that’s very true unless tea, + so it was at his mother’s was it really that you knew him first, highly + sensible and firm but dreadfully severe—ought to be the mother of + the man in the iron mask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Clennam has been kind to me,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Really? I am sure I am glad to hear it because as Arthur’s mother it’s + naturally pleasant to my feelings to have a better opinion of her than I + had before, though what she thinks of me when I run on as I am certain to + do and she sits glowering at me like Fate in a go-cart—shocking + comparison really—invalid and not her fault—I never know or + can imagine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I find my work anywhere, ma’am?’ asked Little Dorrit, looking + timidly about; ‘can I get it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You industrious little fairy,’ returned Flora, taking, in another cup of + tea, another of the doses prescribed by her medical man, ‘there’s not the + slightest hurry and it’s better that we should begin by being confidential + about our mutual friend—too cold a word for me at least I don’t mean + that, very proper expression mutual friend—than become through mere + formalities not you but me like the Spartan boy with the fox biting him, + which I hope you’ll excuse my bringing up for of all the tiresome boys + that will go tumbling into every sort of company that boy’s the + tiresomest.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, her face very pale, sat down again to listen. ‘Hadn’t I + better work the while?’ she asked. ‘I can work and attend too. I would + rather, if I may.’ + </p> + <p> + Her earnestness was so expressive of her being uneasy without her work, + that Flora answered, ‘Well my dear whatever you like best,’ and produced a + basket of white handkerchiefs. Little Dorrit gladly put it by her side, + took out her little pocket-housewife, threaded the needle, and began to + hem. + </p> + <p> + ‘What nimble fingers you have,’ said Flora, ‘but are you sure you are + well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, indeed!’ + </p> + <p> + Flora put her feet upon the fender, and settled herself for a thorough + good romantic disclosure. She started off at score, tossing her head, + sighing in the most demonstrative manner, making a great deal of use of + her eyebrows, and occasionally, but not often, glancing at the quiet face + that bent over the work. + </p> + <p> + ‘You must know my dear,’ said Flora, ‘but that I have no doubt you know + already not only because I have already thrown it out in a general way but + because I feel I carry it stamped in burning what’s his names upon my brow + that before I was introduced to the late Mr F. I had been engaged to + Arthur Clennam—Mr Clennam in public where reserve is necessary + Arthur here—we were all in all to one another it was the morning of + life it was bliss it was frenzy it was everything else of that sort in the + highest degree, when rent asunder we turned to stone in which capacity + Arthur went to China and I became the statue bride of the late Mr F.’ + </p> + <p> + Flora, uttering these words in a deep voice, enjoyed herself immensely. + </p> + <p> + ‘To paint,’ said she, ‘the emotions of that morning when all was marble + within and Mr F.‘s Aunt followed in a glass-coach which it stands to + reason must have been in shameful repair or it never could have broken + down two streets from the house and Mr F.‘s Aunt brought home like the + fifth of November in a rush-bottomed chair I will not attempt, suffice it + to say that the hollow form of breakfast took place in the dining-room + downstairs that papa partaking too freely of pickled salmon was ill for + weeks and that Mr F. and myself went upon a continental tour to Calais + where the people fought for us on the pier until they separated us though + not for ever that was not yet to be.’ + </p> + <p> + The statue bride, hardly pausing for breath, went on, with the greatest + complacency, in a rambling manner sometimes incidental to flesh and blood. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will draw a veil over that dreamy life, Mr F. was in good spirits his + appetite was good he liked the cookery he considered the wine weak but + palatable and all was well, we returned to the immediate neighbourhood of + Number Thirty Little Gosling Street London Docks and settled down, ere we + had yet fully detected the housemaid in selling the feathers out of the + spare bed Gout flying upwards soared with Mr F. to another sphere.’ + </p> + <p> + His relict, with a glance at his portrait, shook her head and wiped her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘I revere the memory of Mr F. as an estimable man and most indulgent + husband, only necessary to mention Asparagus and it appeared or to hint at + any little delicate thing to drink and it came like magic in a pint bottle + it was not ecstasy but it was comfort, I returned to papa’s roof and lived + secluded if not happy during some years until one day papa came smoothly + blundering in and said that Arthur Clennam awaited me below, I went below + and found him ask me not what I found him except that he was still + unmarried still unchanged!’ + </p> + <p> + The dark mystery with which Flora now enshrouded herself might have + stopped other fingers than the nimble fingers that worked near her. They + worked on without pause, and the busy head bent over them watching the + stitches. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask me not,’ said Flora, ‘if I love him still or if he still loves me or + what the end is to be or when, we are surrounded by watchful eyes and it + may be that we are destined to pine asunder it may be never more to be + reunited not a word not a breath not a look to betray us all must be + secret as the tomb wonder not therefore that even if I should seem + comparatively cold to Arthur or Arthur should seem comparatively cold to + me we have fatal reasons it is enough if we understand them hush!’ + </p> + <p> + All of which Flora said with so much headlong vehemence as if she really + believed it. There is not much doubt that when she worked herself into + full mermaid condition, she did actually believe whatever she said in it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ repeated Flora, ‘I have now told you all, confidence is + established between us hush, for Arthur’s sake I will always be a friend + to you my dear girl and in Arthur’s name you may always rely upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + The nimble fingers laid aside the work, and the little figure rose and + kissed her hand. ‘You are very cold,’ said Flora, changing to her own + natural kind-hearted manner, and gaining greatly by the change. ‘Don’t + work to-day. I am sure you are not well I am sure you are not strong.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is only that I feel a little overcome by your kindness, and by Mr + Clennam’s kindness in confiding me to one he has known and loved so long.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well really my dear,’ said Flora, who had a decided tendency to be always + honest when she gave herself time to think about it, ‘it’s as well to + leave that alone now, for I couldn’t undertake to say after all, but it + doesn’t signify lie down a little!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have always been strong enough to do what I want to do, and I shall be + quite well directly,’ returned Little Dorrit, with a faint smile. ‘You + have overpowered me with gratitude, that’s all. If I keep near the window + for a moment I shall be quite myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Flora opened a window, sat her in a chair by it, and considerately retired + to her former place. It was a windy day, and the air stirring on Little + Dorrit’s face soon brightened it. In a very few minutes she returned to + her basket of work, and her nimble fingers were as nimble as ever. + </p> + <p> + Quietly pursuing her task, she asked Flora if Mr Clennam had told her + where she lived? When Flora replied in the negative, Little Dorrit said + that she understood why he had been so delicate, but that she felt sure he + would approve of her confiding her secret to Flora, and that she would + therefore do so now with Flora’s permission. Receiving an encouraging + answer, she condensed the narrative of her life into a few scanty words + about herself and a glowing eulogy upon her father; and Flora took it all + in with a natural tenderness that quite understood it, and in which there + was no incoherence. + </p> + <p> + When dinner-time came, Flora drew the arm of her new charge through hers, + and led her down-stairs, and presented her to the Patriarch and Mr Pancks, + who were already in the dining-room waiting to begin. (Mr F.‘s Aunt was, + for the time, laid up in ordinary in her chamber.) By those gentlemen she + was received according to their characters; the Patriarch appearing to do + her some inestimable service in saying that he was glad to see her, glad + to see her; and Mr Pancks blowing off his favourite sound as a salute. + </p> + <p> + In that new presence she would have been bashful enough under any + circumstances, and particularly under Flora’s insisting on her drinking a + glass of wine and eating of the best that was there; but her constraint + was greatly increased by Mr Pancks. The demeanour of that gentleman at + first suggested to her mind that he might be a taker of likenesses, so + intently did he look at her, and so frequently did he glance at the little + note-book by his side. Observing that he made no sketch, however, and that + he talked about business only, she began to have suspicions that he + represented some creditor of her father’s, the balance due to whom was + noted in that pocket volume. Regarded from this point of view Mr Pancks’s + puffings expressed injury and impatience, and each of his louder snorts + became a demand for payment. + </p> + <p> + But here again she was undeceived by anomalous and incongruous conduct on + the part of Mr Pancks himself. She had left the table half an hour, and + was at work alone. Flora had ‘gone to lie down’ in the next room, + concurrently with which retirement a smell of something to drink had + broken out in the house. The Patriarch was fast asleep, with his + philanthropic mouth open under a yellow pocket-handkerchief in the + dining-room. At this quiet time, Mr Pancks softly appeared before her, + urbanely nodding. + </p> + <p> + ‘Find it a little dull, Miss Dorrit?’ inquired Pancks in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, thank you, sir,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Busy, I see,’ observed Mr Pancks, stealing into the room by inches. ‘What + are those now, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Handkerchiefs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are they, though!’ said Pancks. ‘I shouldn’t have thought it.’ Not in the + least looking at them, but looking at Little Dorrit. ‘Perhaps you wonder + who I am. Shall I tell you? I am a fortune-teller.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit now began to think he was mad. + </p> + <p> + ‘I belong body and soul to my proprietor,’ said Pancks; ‘you saw my + proprietor having his dinner below. But I do a little in the other way, + sometimes; privately, very privately, Miss Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit looked at him doubtfully, and not without alarm. ‘I wish + you’d show me the palm of your hand,’ said Pancks. ‘I should like to have + a look at it. Don’t let me be troublesome.’ + </p> + <p> + He was so far troublesome that he was not at all wanted there, but she + laid her work in her lap for a moment, and held out her left hand with her + thimble on it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Years of toil, eh?’ said Pancks, softly, touching it with his blunt + forefinger. ‘But what else are we made for? Nothing. Hallo!’ looking into + the lines. ‘What’s this with bars? It’s a College! And what’s this with a + grey gown and a black velvet cap? it’s a father! And what’s this with a + clarionet? It’s an uncle! And what’s this in dancing-shoes? It’s a sister! + And what’s this straggling about in an idle sort of a way? It’s a brother! + And what’s this thinking for ‘em all? Why, this is you, Miss Dorrit!’ + </p> + <p> + Her eyes met his as she looked up wonderingly into his face, and she + thought that although his were sharp eyes, he was a brighter and + gentler-looking man than she had supposed at dinner. His eyes were on her + hand again directly, and her opportunity of confirming or correcting the + impression was gone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, the deuce is in it,’ muttered Pancks, tracing out a line in her hand + with his clumsy finger, ‘if this isn’t me in the corner here! What do I + want here? What’s behind me?’ + </p> + <p> + He carried his finger slowly down to the wrist, and round the wrist, and + affected to look at the back of the hand for what was behind him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it any harm?’ asked Little Dorrit, smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Deuce a bit!’ said Pancks. ‘What do you think it’s worth?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ought to ask you that. I am not the fortune-teller.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True,’ said Pancks. ‘What’s it worth? You shall live to see, Miss + Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + Releasing the hand by slow degrees, he drew all his fingers through his + prongs of hair, so that they stood up in their most portentous manner; and + repeated slowly, ‘Remember what I say, Miss Dorrit. You shall live to + see.’ + </p> + <p> + She could not help showing that she was much surprised, if it were only by + his knowing so much about her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! That’s it!’ said Pancks, pointing at her. ‘Miss Dorrit, not that, + ever!’ + </p> + <p> + More surprised than before, and a little more frightened, she looked to + him for an explanation of his last words. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not that,’ said Pancks, making, with great seriousness, an imitation of a + surprised look and manner that appeared to be unintentionally grotesque. + ‘Don’t do that. Never on seeing me, no matter when, no matter where. I am + nobody. Don’t take on to mind me. Don’t mention me. Take no notice. Will + you agree, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hardly know what to say,’ returned Little Dorrit, quite astounded. + ‘Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I am a fortune-teller. Pancks the gipsy. I haven’t told you so + much of your fortune yet, Miss Dorrit, as to tell you what’s behind me on + that little hand. I have told you you shall live to see. Is it agreed, + Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Agreed that I—am—to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To take no notice of me away from here, unless I take on first. Not to + mind me when I come and go. It’s very easy. I am no loss, I am not + handsome, I am not good company, I am only my proprietors grubber. You + need do no more than think, “Ah! Pancks the gipsy at his fortune-telling—he’ll + tell the rest of my fortune one day—I shall live to know it.” Is it + agreed, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ye-es,’ faltered Little Dorrit, whom he greatly confused, ‘I suppose so, + while you do no harm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good!’ Mr Pancks glanced at the wall of the adjoining room, and stooped + forward. ‘Honest creature, woman of capital points, but heedless and a + loose talker, Miss Dorrit.’ With that he rubbed his hands as if the + interview had been very satisfactory to him, panted away to the door, and + urbanely nodded himself out again. + </p> + <p> + If Little Dorrit were beyond measure perplexed by this curious conduct on + the part of her new acquaintance, and by finding herself involved in this + singular treaty, her perplexity was not diminished by ensuing + circumstances. Besides that Mr Pancks took every opportunity afforded him + in Mr Casby’s house of significantly glancing at her and snorting at her—which + was not much, after what he had done already—he began to pervade her + daily life. She saw him in the street, constantly. When she went to Mr + Casby’s, he was always there. When she went to Mrs Clennam’s, he came + there on any pretence, as if to keep her in his sight. A week had not gone + by, when she found him to her astonishment in the Lodge one night, + conversing with the turnkey on duty, and to all appearance one of his + familiar companions. Her next surprise was to find him equally at his ease + within the prison; to hear of his presenting himself among the visitors at + her father’s Sunday levee; to see him arm in arm with a Collegiate friend + about the yard; to learn, from Fame, that he had greatly distinguished + himself one evening at the social club that held its meetings in the + Snuggery, by addressing a speech to the members of the institution, + singing a song, and treating the company to five gallons of ale—report + madly added a bushel of shrimps. The effect on Mr Plornish of such of + these phenomena as he became an eye-witness of in his faithful visits, + made an impression on Little Dorrit only second to that produced by the + phenomena themselves. They seemed to gag and bind him. He could only + stare, and sometimes weakly mutter that it wouldn’t be believed down + Bleeding Heart Yard that this was Pancks; but he never said a word more, + or made a sign more, even to Little Dorrit. Mr Pancks crowned his + mysteries by making himself acquainted with Tip in some unknown manner, + and taking a Sunday saunter into the College on that gentleman’s arm. + Throughout he never took any notice of Little Dorrit, save once or twice + when he happened to come close to her and there was no one very near; on + which occasions, he said in passing, with a friendly look and a puff of + encouragement, ‘Pancks the gipsy—fortune-telling.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit worked and strove as usual, wondering at all this, but + keeping her wonder, as she had from her earliest years kept many heavier + loads, in her own breast. A change had stolen, and was stealing yet, over + the patient heart. Every day found her something more retiring than the + day before. To pass in and out of the prison unnoticed, and elsewhere to + be overlooked and forgotten, were, for herself, her chief desires. + </p> + <p> + To her own room too, strangely assorted room for her delicate youth and + character, she was glad to retreat as often as she could without desertion + of any duty. There were afternoon times when she was unemployed, when + visitors dropped in to play a hand at cards with her father, when she + could be spared and was better away. Then she would flit along the yard, + climb the scores of stairs that led to her room, and take her seat at the + window. Many combinations did those spikes upon the wall assume, many + light shapes did the strong iron weave itself into, many golden touches + fell upon the rust, while Little Dorrit sat there musing. New zig-zags + sprung into the cruel pattern sometimes, when she saw it through a burst + of tears; but beautified or hardened still, always over it and under it + and through it, she was fain to look in her solitude, seeing everything + with that ineffaceable brand. + </p> + <p> + A garret, and a Marshalsea garret without compromise, was Little Dorrit’s + room. Beautifully kept, it was ugly in itself, and had little but + cleanliness and air to set it off; for what embellishment she had ever + been able to buy, had gone to her father’s room. Howbeit, for this poor + place she showed an increasing love; and to sit in it alone became her + favourite rest. + </p> + <p> + Insomuch, that on a certain afternoon during the Pancks mysteries, when + she was seated at her window, and heard Maggy’s well-known step coming up + the stairs, she was very much disturbed by the apprehension of being + summoned away. As Maggy’s step came higher up and nearer, she trembled and + faltered; and it was as much as she could do to speak, when Maggy at + length appeared. + </p> + <p> + ‘Please, Little Mother,’ said Maggy, panting for breath, ‘you must come + down and see him. He’s here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who, Maggy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who, o’ course Mr Clennam. He’s in your father’s room, and he says to me, + Maggy, will you be so kind and go and say it’s only me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not very well, Maggy. I had better not go. I am going to lie down. + See! I lie down now, to ease my head. Say, with my grateful regard, that + you left me so, or I would have come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, it an’t very polite though, Little Mother,’ said the staring Maggy, + ‘to turn your face away, neither!’ + </p> + <p> + Maggy was very susceptible to personal slights, and very ingenious in + inventing them. ‘Putting both your hands afore your face too!’ she went + on. ‘If you can’t bear the looks of a poor thing, it would be better to + tell her so at once, and not go and shut her out like that, hurting her + feelings and breaking her heart at ten year old, poor thing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s to ease my head, Maggy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, and if you cry to ease your head, Little Mother, let me cry too. + Don’t go and have all the crying to yourself,’ expostulated Maggy, ‘that + an’t not being greedy.’ And immediately began to blubber. + </p> + <p> + It was with some difficulty that she could be induced to go back with the + excuse; but the promise of being told a story—of old her great + delight—on condition that she concentrated her faculties upon the + errand and left her little mistress to herself for an hour longer, + combined with a misgiving on Maggy’s part that she had left her good + temper at the bottom of the staircase, prevailed. So away she went, + muttering her message all the way to keep it in her mind, and, at the + appointed time, came back. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was very sorry, I can tell you,’ she announced, ‘and wanted to send a + doctor. And he’s coming again to-morrow he is and I don’t think he’ll have + a good sleep to-night along o’ hearing about your head, Little Mother. Oh + my! Ain’t you been a-crying!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I have, a little, Maggy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A little! Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it’s all over now—all over for good, Maggy. And my head is much + better and cooler, and I am quite comfortable. I am very glad I did not go + down.’ + </p> + <p> + Her great staring child tenderly embraced her; and having smoothed her + hair, and bathed her forehead and eyes with cold water (offices in which + her awkward hands became skilful), hugged her again, exulted in her + brighter looks, and stationed her in her chair by the window. Over against + this chair, Maggy, with apoplectic exertions that were not at all + required, dragged the box which was her seat on story-telling occasions, + sat down upon it, hugged her own knees, and said, with a voracious + appetite for stories, and with widely-opened eyes: + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Little Mother, let’s have a good ‘un!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What shall it be about, Maggy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, let’s have a princess,’ said Maggy, ‘and let her be a reg’lar one. + Beyond all belief, you know!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit considered for a moment; and with a rather sad smile upon + her face, which was flushed by the sunset, began: + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0266m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0266m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0266.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Maggy, there was once upon a time a fine King, and he had everything he + could wish for, and a great deal more. He had gold and silver, diamonds + and rubies, riches of every kind. He had palaces, and he had—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hospitals,’ interposed Maggy, still nursing her knees. ‘Let him have + hospitals, because they’re so comfortable. Hospitals with lots of + Chicking.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, he had plenty of them, and he had plenty of everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Plenty of baked potatoes, for instance?’ said Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Plenty of everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor!’ chuckled Maggy, giving her knees a hug. ‘Wasn’t it prime!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This King had a daughter, who was the wisest and most beautiful Princess + that ever was seen. When she was a child she understood all her lessons + before her masters taught them to her; and when she was grown up, she was + the wonder of the world. Now, near the Palace where this Princess lived, + there was a cottage in which there was a poor little tiny woman, who lived + all alone by herself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘An old woman,’ said Maggy, with an unctuous smack of her lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not an old woman. Quite a young one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder she warn’t afraid,’ said Maggy. ‘Go on, please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Princess passed the cottage nearly every day, and whenever she went + by in her beautiful carriage, she saw the poor tiny woman spinning at her + wheel, and she looked at the tiny woman, and the tiny woman looked at her. + So, one day she stopped the coachman a little way from the cottage, and + got out and walked on and peeped in at the door, and there, as usual, was + the tiny woman spinning at her wheel, and she looked at the Princess, and + the Princess looked at her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Like trying to stare one another out,’ said Maggy. ‘Please go on, Little + Mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Princess was such a wonderful Princess that she had the power of + knowing secrets, and she said to the tiny woman, Why do you keep it there? + This showed her directly that the Princess knew why she lived all alone by + herself spinning at her wheel, and she kneeled down at the Princess’s + feet, and asked her never to betray her. So the Princess said, I never + will betray you. Let me see it. So the tiny woman closed the shutter of + the cottage window and fastened the door, and trembling from head to foot + for fear that any one should suspect her, opened a very secret place and + showed the Princess a shadow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor!’ said Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was the shadow of Some one who had gone by long before: of Some one + who had gone on far away quite out of reach, never, never to come back. It + was bright to look at; and when the tiny woman showed it to the Princess, + she was proud of it with all her heart, as a great, great treasure. When + the Princess had considered it a little while, she said to the tiny woman, + And you keep watch over this every day? And she cast down her eyes, and + whispered, Yes. Then the Princess said, Remind me why. To which the other + replied, that no one so good and kind had ever passed that way, and that + was why in the beginning. She said, too, that nobody missed it, that + nobody was the worse for it, that Some one had gone on, to those who were + expecting him—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Some one was a man then?’ interposed Maggy. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit timidly said Yes, she believed so; and resumed: + </p> + <p> + ‘—Had gone on to those who were expecting him, and that this + remembrance was stolen or kept back from nobody. The Princess made answer, + Ah! But when the cottager died it would be discovered there. The tiny + woman told her No; when that time came, it would sink quietly into her own + grave, and would never be found.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, to be sure!’ said Maggy. ‘Go on, please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Princess was very much astonished to hear this, as you may suppose, + Maggy.’ + </p> + <p> + (‘And well she might be,’ said Maggy.) + </p> + <p> + ‘So she resolved to watch the tiny woman, and see what came of it. Every + day she drove in her beautiful carriage by the cottage-door, and there she + saw the tiny woman always alone by herself spinning at her wheel, and she + looked at the tiny woman, and the tiny woman looked at her. At last one + day the wheel was still, and the tiny woman was not to be seen. When the + Princess made inquiries why the wheel had stopped, and where the tiny + woman was, she was informed that the wheel had stopped because there was + nobody to turn it, the tiny woman being dead.’ + </p> + <p> + (‘They ought to have took her to the Hospital,’ said Maggy, and then she’d + have got over it.’) + </p> + <p> + ‘The Princess, after crying a very little for the loss of the tiny woman, + dried her eyes and got out of her carriage at the place where she had + stopped it before, and went to the cottage and peeped in at the door. + There was nobody to look at her now, and nobody for her to look at, so she + went in at once to search for the treasured shadow. But there was no sign + of it to be found anywhere; and then she knew that the tiny woman had told + her the truth, and that it would never give anybody any trouble, and that + it had sunk quietly into her own grave, and that she and it were at rest + together. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all, Maggy.’ + </p> + <p> + The sunset flush was so bright on Little Dorrit’s face when she came thus + to the end of her story, that she interposed her hand to shade it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Had she got to be old?’ Maggy asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘The tiny woman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘But it would have been just the same + if she had been ever so old.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would it raly!’ said Maggy. ‘Well, I suppose it would though.’ And sat + staring and ruminating. + </p> + <p> + She sat so long with her eyes wide open, that at length Little Dorrit, to + entice her from her box, rose and looked out of window. As she glanced + down into the yard, she saw Pancks come in and leer up with the corner of + his eye as he went by. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who’s he, Little Mother?’ said Maggy. She had joined her at the window + and was leaning on her shoulder. ‘I see him come in and out often.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard him called a fortune-teller,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘But I + doubt if he could tell many people even their past or present fortunes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Couldn’t have told the Princess hers?’ said Maggy. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, looking musingly down into the dark valley of the prison, + shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor the tiny woman hers?’ said Maggy. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Little Dorrit, with the sunset very bright upon her. ‘But let + us come away from the window.’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0025"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 25. Conspirators and Others + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he private residence of Mr Pancks was in Pentonville, where he lodged on + the second-floor of a professional gentleman in an extremely small way, + who had an inner-door within the street door, poised on a spring and + starting open with a click like a trap; and who wrote up in the fan-light, + RUGG, GENERAL AGENT, ACCOUNTANT, DEBTS RECOVERED. + </p> + <p> + This scroll, majestic in its severe simplicity, illuminated a little slip + of front garden abutting on the thirsty high-road, where a few of the + dustiest of leaves hung their dismal heads and led a life of choking. A + professor of writing occupied the first-floor, and enlivened the garden + railings with glass-cases containing choice examples of what his pupils + had been before six lessons and while the whole of his young family shook + the table, and what they had become after six lessons when the young + family was under restraint. The tenancy of Mr Pancks was limited to one + airy bedroom; he covenanting and agreeing with Mr Rugg his landlord, that + in consideration of a certain scale of payments accurately defined, and on + certain verbal notice duly given, he should be at liberty to elect to + share the Sunday breakfast, dinner, tea, or supper, or each or any or all + of those repasts or meals of Mr and Miss Rugg (his daughter) in the + back-parlour. + </p> + <p> + Miss Rugg was a lady of a little property which she had acquired, together + with much distinction in the neighbourhood, by having her heart severely + lacerated and her feelings mangled by a middle-aged baker resident in the + vicinity, against whom she had, by the agency of Mr Rugg, found it + necessary to proceed at law to recover damages for a breach of promise of + marriage. The baker having been, by the counsel for Miss Rugg, witheringly + denounced on that occasion up to the full amount of twenty guineas, at the + rate of about eighteen-pence an epithet, and having been cast in + corresponding damages, still suffered occasional persecution from the + youth of Pentonville. But Miss Rugg, environed by the majesty of the law, + and having her damages invested in the public securities, was regarded + with consideration. + </p> + <p> + In the society of Mr Rugg, who had a round white visage, as if all his + blushes had been drawn out of him long ago, and who had a ragged yellow + head like a worn-out hearth broom; and in the society of Miss Rugg, who + had little nankeen spots, like shirt buttons, all over her face, and whose + own yellow tresses were rather scrubby than luxuriant; Mr Pancks had + usually dined on Sundays for some few years, and had twice a week, or so, + enjoyed an evening collation of bread, Dutch cheese, and porter. Mr Pancks + was one of the very few marriageable men for whom Miss Rugg had no + terrors, the argument with which he reassured himself being twofold; that + is to say, firstly, ‘that it wouldn’t do twice,’ and secondly, ‘that he + wasn’t worth it.’ Fortified within this double armour, Mr Pancks snorted + at Miss Rugg on easy terms. + </p> + <p> + Up to this time, Mr Pancks had transacted little or no business at his + quarters in Pentonville, except in the sleeping line; but now that he had + become a fortune-teller, he was often closeted after midnight with Mr Rugg + in his little front-parlour office, and even after those untimely hours, + burnt tallow in his bed-room. Though his duties as his proprietor’s + grubber were in no wise lessened; and though that service bore no greater + resemblance to a bed of roses than was to be discovered in its many + thorns; some new branch of industry made a constant demand upon him. When + he cast off the Patriarch at night, it was only to take an anonymous craft + in tow, and labour away afresh in other waters. + </p> + <p> + The advance from a personal acquaintance with the elder Mr Chivery to an + introduction to his amiable wife and disconsolate son, may have been easy; + but easy or not, Mr Pancks soon made it. He nestled in the bosom of the + tobacco business within a week or two after his first appearance in the + College, and particularly addressed himself to the cultivation of a good + understanding with Young John. In this endeavour he so prospered as to + lure that pining shepherd forth from the groves, and tempt him to + undertake mysterious missions; on which he began to disappear at uncertain + intervals for as long a space as two or three days together. The prudent + Mrs Chivery, who wondered greatly at this change, would have protested + against it as detrimental to the Highland typification on the doorpost but + for two forcible reasons; one, that her John was roused to take strong + interest in the business which these starts were supposed to advance—and + this she held to be good for his drooping spirits; the other, that Mr + Pancks confidentially agreed to pay her, for the occupation of her son’s + time, at the handsome rate of seven and sixpence per day. The proposal + originated with himself, and was couched in the pithy terms, ‘If your John + is weak enough, ma’am, not to take it, that is no reason why you should + be, don’t you see? So, quite between ourselves, ma’am, business being + business, here it is!’ + </p> + <p> + What Mr Chivery thought of these things, or how much or how little he knew + about them, was never gathered from himself. It has been already remarked + that he was a man of few words; and it may be here observed that he had + imbibed a professional habit of locking everything up. He locked himself + up as carefully as he locked up the Marshalsea debtors. Even his custom of + bolting his meals may have been a part of an uniform whole; but there is + no question, that, as to all other purposes, he kept his mouth as he kept + the Marshalsea door. He never opened it without occasion. When it was + necessary to let anything out, he opened it a little way, held it open + just as long as sufficed for the purpose, and locked it again. Even as he + would be sparing of his trouble at the Marshalsea door, and would keep a + visitor who wanted to go out, waiting for a few moments if he saw another + visitor coming down the yard, so that one turn of the key should suffice + for both, similarly he would often reserve a remark if he perceived + another on its way to his lips, and would deliver himself of the two + together. As to any key to his inner knowledge being to be found in his + face, the Marshalsea key was as legible as an index to the individual + characters and histories upon which it was turned. + </p> + <p> + That Mr Pancks should be moved to invite any one to dinner at Pentonville, + was an unprecedented fact in his calendar. But he invited Young John to + dinner, and even brought him within range of the dangerous (because + expensive) fascinations of Miss Rugg. The banquet was appointed for a + Sunday, and Miss Rugg with her own hands stuffed a leg of mutton with + oysters on the occasion, and sent it to the baker’s—not <i>the</i> + baker’s but an opposition establishment. Provision of oranges, apples, and + nuts was also made. And rum was brought home by Mr Pancks on Saturday + night, to gladden the visitor’s heart. + </p> + <p> + The store of creature comforts was not the chief part of the visitor’s + reception. Its special feature was a foregone family confidence and + sympathy. When Young John appeared at half-past one without the ivory hand + and waistcoat of golden sprigs, the sun shorn of his beams by disastrous + clouds, Mr Pancks presented him to the yellow-haired Ruggs as the young + man he had so often mentioned who loved Miss Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad,’ said Mr Rugg, challenging him specially in that character, + ‘to have the distinguished gratification of making your acquaintance, sir. + Your feelings do you honour. You are young; may you never outlive your + feelings! If I was to outlive my own feelings, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, who was + a man of many words, and was considered to possess a remarkably good + address; ‘if I was to outlive my own feelings, I’d leave fifty pound in my + will to the man who would put me out of existence.’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Rugg heaved a sigh. + </p> + <p> + ‘My daughter, sir,’ said Mr Rugg. ‘Anastatia, you are no stranger to the + state of this young man’s affections. My daughter has had her trials, sir’—Mr + Rugg might have used the word more pointedly in the singular number—‘and + she can feel for you.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John, almost overwhelmed by the touching nature of this greeting, + professed himself to that effect. + </p> + <p> + ‘What I envy you, sir, is,’ said Mr Rugg, ‘allow me to take your hat—we + are rather short of pegs—I’ll put it in the corner, nobody will + tread on it there—What I envy you, sir, is the luxury of your own + feelings. I belong to a profession in which that luxury is sometimes + denied us.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John replied, with acknowledgments, that he only hoped he did what + was right, and what showed how entirely he was devoted to Miss Dorrit. He + wished to be unselfish; and he hoped he was. He wished to do anything as + laid in his power to serve Miss Dorrit, altogether putting himself out of + sight; and he hoped he did. It was but little that he could do, but he + hoped he did it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said Mr Rugg, taking him by the hand, ‘you are a young man that it + does one good to come across. You are a young man that I should like to + put in the witness-box, to humanise the minds of the legal profession. I + hope you have brought your appetite with you, and intend to play a good + knife and fork?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir,’ returned Young John, ‘I don’t eat much at present.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Rugg drew him a little apart. ‘My daughter’s case, sir,’ said he, ‘at + the time when, in vindication of her outraged feelings and her sex, she + became the plaintiff in Rugg and Bawkins. I suppose I could have put it in + evidence, Mr Chivery, if I had thought it worth my while, that the amount + of solid sustenance my daughter consumed at that period did not exceed ten + ounces per week.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think I go a little beyond that, sir,’ returned the other, hesitating, + as if he confessed it with some shame. + </p> + <p> + ‘But in your case there’s no fiend in human form,’ said Mr Rugg, with + argumentative smile and action of hand. ‘Observe, Mr Chivery! No fiend in + human form!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, certainly,’ Young John added with simplicity, ‘I should be very + sorry if there was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The sentiment,’ said Mr Rugg, ‘is what I should have expected from your + known principles. It would affect my daughter greatly, sir, if she heard + it. As I perceive the mutton, I am glad she didn’t hear it. Mr Pancks, on + this occasion, pray face me. My dear, face Mr Chivery. For what we are + going to receive, may we (and Miss Dorrit) be truly thankful!’ + </p> + <p> + But for a grave waggishness in Mr Rugg’s manner of delivering this + introduction to the feast, it might have appeared that Miss Dorrit was + expected to be one of the company. Pancks recognised the sally in his + usual way, and took in his provender in his usual way. Miss Rugg, perhaps + making up some of her arrears, likewise took very kindly to the mutton, + and it rapidly diminished to the bone. A bread-and-butter pudding entirely + disappeared, and a considerable amount of cheese and radishes vanished by + the same means. Then came the dessert. + </p> + <p> + Then also, and before the broaching of the rum and water, came Mr Pancks’s + note-book. The ensuing business proceedings were brief but curious, and + rather in the nature of a conspiracy. Mr Pancks looked over his note-book, + which was now getting full, studiously; and picked out little extracts, + which he wrote on separate slips of paper on the table; Mr Rugg, in the + meanwhile, looking at him with close attention, and Young John losing his + uncollected eye in mists of meditation. When Mr Pancks, who supported the + character of chief conspirator, had completed his extracts, he looked them + over, corrected them, put up his note-book, and held them like a hand at + cards. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, there’s a churchyard in Bedfordshire,’ said Pancks. ‘Who takes it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll take it, sir,’ returned Mr Rugg, ‘if no one bids.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks dealt him his card, and looked at his hand again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, there’s an Enquiry in York,’ said Pancks. ‘Who takes it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’m not good for York,’ said Mr Rugg. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then perhaps,’ pursued Pancks, ‘you’ll be so obliging, John Chivery?’ + </p> + <p> + Young John assenting, Pancks dealt him his card, and consulted his hand + again. + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s a Church in London; I may as well take that. And a Family Bible; + I may as well take that, too. That’s two to me. Two to me,’ repeated + Pancks, breathing hard over his cards. ‘Here’s a Clerk at Durham for you, + John, and an old seafaring gentleman at Dunstable for you, Mr Rugg. Two to + me, was it? Yes, two to me. Here’s a Stone; three to me. And a Still-born + Baby; four to me. And all, for the present, told.’ + </p> + <p> + When he had thus disposed of his cards, all being done very quietly and in + a suppressed tone, Mr Pancks puffed his way into his own breast-pocket and + tugged out a canvas bag; from which, with a sparing hand, he told forth + money for travelling expenses in two little portions. ‘Cash goes out + fast,’ he said anxiously, as he pushed a portion to each of his male + companions, ‘very fast.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can only assure you, Mr Pancks,’ said Young John, ‘that I deeply regret + my circumstances being such that I can’t afford to pay my own charges, or + that it’s not advisable to allow me the time necessary for my doing the + distances on foot; because nothing would give me greater satisfaction than + to walk myself off my legs without fee or reward.’ + </p> + <p> + This young man’s disinterestedness appeared so very ludicrous in the eyes + of Miss Rugg, that she was obliged to effect a precipitate retirement from + the company, and to sit upon the stairs until she had had her laugh out. + Meanwhile Mr Pancks, looking, not without some pity, at Young John, slowly + and thoughtfully twisted up his canvas bag as if he were wringing its + neck. The lady, returning as he restored it to his pocket, mixed rum and + water for the party, not forgetting her fair self, and handed to every one + his glass. When all were supplied, Mr Rugg rose, and silently holding out + his glass at arm’s length above the centre of the table, by that gesture + invited the other three to add theirs, and to unite in a general + conspiratorial clink. The ceremony was effective up to a certain point, + and would have been wholly so throughout, if Miss Rugg, as she raised her + glass to her lips in completion of it, had not happened to look at Young + John; when she was again so overcome by the contemptible comicality of his + disinterestedness as to splutter some ambrosial drops of rum and water + around, and withdraw in confusion. + </p> + <p> + Such was the dinner without precedent, given by Pancks at Pentonville; and + such was the busy and strange life Pancks led. The only waking moments at + which he appeared to relax from his cares, and to recreate himself by + going anywhere or saying anything without a pervading object, were when he + showed a dawning interest in the lame foreigner with the stick, down + Bleeding Heart Yard. + </p> + <p> + The foreigner, by name John Baptist Cavalletto—they called him Mr + Baptist in the Yard—was such a chirping, easy, hopeful little + fellow, that his attraction for Pancks was probably in the force of + contrast. Solitary, weak, and scantily acquainted with the most necessary + words of the only language in which he could communicate with the people + about him, he went with the stream of his fortunes, in a brisk way that + was new in those parts. With little to eat, and less to drink, and nothing + to wear but what he wore upon him, or had brought tied up in one of the + smallest bundles that ever were seen, he put as bright a face upon it as + if he were in the most flourishing circumstances when he first hobbled up + and down the Yard, humbly propitiating the general good-will with his + white teeth. + </p> + <p> + It was uphill work for a foreigner, lame or sound, to make his way with + the Bleeding Hearts. In the first place, they were vaguely persuaded that + every foreigner had a knife about him; in the second, they held it to be a + sound constitutional national axiom that he ought to go home to his own + country. They never thought of inquiring how many of their own countrymen + would be returned upon their hands from divers parts of the world, if the + principle were generally recognised; they considered it particularly and + peculiarly British. In the third place, they had a notion that it was a + sort of Divine visitation upon a foreigner that he was not an Englishman, + and that all kinds of calamities happened to his country because it did + things that England did not, and did not do things that England did. In + this belief, to be sure, they had long been carefully trained by the + Barnacles and Stiltstalkings, who were always proclaiming to them, + officially, that no country which failed to submit itself to those two + large families could possibly hope to be under the protection of + Providence; and who, when they believed it, disparaged them in private as + the most prejudiced people under the sun. + </p> + <p> + This, therefore, might be called a political position of the Bleeding + Hearts; but they entertained other objections to having foreigners in the + Yard. They believed that foreigners were always badly off; and though they + were as ill off themselves as they could desire to be, that did not + diminish the force of the objection. They believed that foreigners were + dragooned and bayoneted; and though they certainly got their own skulls + promptly fractured if they showed any ill-humour, still it was with a + blunt instrument, and that didn’t count. They believed that foreigners + were always immoral; and though they had an occasional assize at home, and + now and then a divorce case or so, that had nothing to do with it. They + believed that foreigners had no independent spirit, as never being + escorted to the poll in droves by Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle, with colours + flying and the tune of Rule Britannia playing. Not to be tedious, they had + many other beliefs of a similar kind. + </p> + <p> + Against these obstacles, the lame foreigner with the stick had to make + head as well as he could; not absolutely single-handed, because Mr Arthur + Clennam had recommended him to the Plornishes (he lived at the top of the + same house), but still at heavy odds. However, the Bleeding Hearts were + kind hearts; and when they saw the little fellow cheerily limping about + with a good-humoured face, doing no harm, drawing no knives, committing no + outrageous immoralities, living chiefly on farinaceous and milk diet, and + playing with Mrs Plornish’s children of an evening, they began to think + that although he could never hope to be an Englishman, still it would be + hard to visit that affliction on his head. They began to accommodate + themselves to his level, calling him ‘Mr Baptist,’ but treating him like a + baby, and laughing immoderately at his lively gestures and his childish + English—more, because he didn’t mind it, and laughed too. They spoke + to him in very loud voices as if he were stone deaf. They constructed + sentences, by way of teaching him the language in its purity, such as were + addressed by the savages to Captain Cook, or by Friday to Robinson Crusoe. + Mrs Plornish was particularly ingenious in this art; and attained so much + celebrity for saying ‘Me ope you leg well soon,’ that it was considered in + the Yard but a very short remove indeed from speaking Italian. Even Mrs + Plornish herself began to think that she had a natural call towards that + language. As he became more popular, household objects were brought into + requisition for his instruction in a copious vocabulary; and whenever he + appeared in the Yard ladies would fly out at their doors crying ‘Mr + Baptist—tea-pot!’ ‘Mr Baptist—dust-pan!’ ‘Mr Baptist—flour-dredger!’ + ‘Mr Baptist—coffee-biggin!’ At the same time exhibiting those + articles, and penetrating him with a sense of the appalling difficulties + of the Anglo-Saxon tongue. + </p> + <p> + It was in this stage of his progress, and in about the third week of his + occupation, that Mr Pancks’s fancy became attracted by the little man. + Mounting to his attic, attended by Mrs Plornish as interpreter, he found + Mr Baptist with no furniture but his bed on the ground, a table, and a + chair, carving with the aid of a few simple tools, in the blithest way + possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, old chap,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘pay up!’ + </p> + <p> + He had his money ready, folded in a scrap of paper, and laughingly handed + it in; then with a free action, threw out as many fingers of his right + hand as there were shillings, and made a cut crosswise in the air for an + odd sixpence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Mr Pancks, watching him, wonderingly. ‘That’s it, is it? You’re + a quick customer. It’s all right. I didn’t expect to receive it, though.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Plornish here interposed with great condescension, and explained to Mr + Baptist. ‘E please. E glad get money.’ + </p> + <p> + The little man smiled and nodded. His bright face seemed uncommonly + attractive to Mr Pancks. ‘How’s he getting on in his limb?’ he asked Mrs + Plornish. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, he’s a deal better, sir,’ said Mrs Plornish. ‘We expect next week + he’ll be able to leave off his stick entirely.’ (The opportunity being too + favourable to be lost, Mrs Plornish displayed her great accomplishment by + explaining with pardonable pride to Mr Baptist, ‘E ope you leg well + soon.’) + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a merry fellow, too,’ said Mr Pancks, admiring him as if he were a + mechanical toy. ‘How does he live?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, sir,’ rejoined Mrs Plornish, ‘he turns out to have quite a power of + carving them flowers that you see him at now.’ (Mr Baptist, watching their + faces as they spoke, held up his work. Mrs Plornish interpreted in her + Italian manner, on behalf of Mr Pancks, ‘E please. Double good!’) + </p> + <p> + ‘Can he live by that?’ asked Mr Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘He can live on very little, sir, and it is expected as he will be able, + in time, to make a very good living. Mr Clennam got it him to do, and + gives him odd jobs besides in at the Works next door—makes ‘em for + him, in short, when he knows he wants ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what does he do with himself, now, when he ain’t hard at it?’ said Mr + Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, not much as yet, sir, on accounts I suppose of not being able to + walk much; but he goes about the Yard, and he chats without particular + understanding or being understood, and he plays with the children, and he + sits in the sun—he’ll sit down anywhere, as if it was an arm-chair—and + he’ll sing, and he’ll laugh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Laugh!’ echoed Mr Pancks. ‘He looks to me as if every tooth in his head + was always laughing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But whenever he gets to the top of the steps at t’other end of the Yard,’ + said Mrs Plornish, ‘he’ll peep out in the curiousest way! So that some of + us thinks he’s peeping out towards where his own country is, and some of + us thinks he’s looking for somebody he don’t want to see, and some of us + don’t know what to think.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Baptist seemed to have a general understanding of what she said; or + perhaps his quickness caught and applied her slight action of peeping. In + any case he closed his eyes and tossed his head with the air of a man who + had sufficient reasons for what he did, and said in his own tongue, it + didn’t matter. Altro! + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s Altro?’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hem! It’s a sort of a general kind of expression, sir,’ said Mrs + Plornish. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it?’ said Pancks. ‘Why, then Altro to you, old chap. Good afternoon. + Altro!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Baptist in his vivacious way repeating the word several times, Mr + Pancks in his duller way gave it him back once. From that time it became a + frequent custom with Pancks the gipsy, as he went home jaded at night, to + pass round by Bleeding Heart Yard, go quietly up the stairs, look in at Mr + Baptist’s door, and, finding him in his room, to say, ‘Hallo, old chap! + Altro!’ To which Mr Baptist would reply with innumerable bright nods and + smiles, ‘Altro, signore, altro, altro, altro!’ After this highly condensed + conversation, Mr Pancks would go his way with an appearance of being + lightened and refreshed. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0026"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 26. Nobody’s State of Mind + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>f Arthur Clennam had not arrived at that wise decision firmly to restrain + himself from loving Pet, he would have lived on in a state of much + perplexity, involving difficult struggles with his own heart. Not the + least of these would have been a contention, always waging within it, + between a tendency to dislike Mr Henry Gowan, if not to regard him with + positive repugnance, and a whisper that the inclination was unworthy. A + generous nature is not prone to strong aversions, and is slow to admit + them even dispassionately; but when it finds ill-will gaining upon it, and + can discern between-whiles that its origin is not dispassionate, such a + nature becomes distressed. + </p> + <p> + Therefore Mr Henry Gowan would have clouded Clennam’s mind, and would have + been far oftener present to it than more agreeable persons and subjects + but for the great prudence of his decision aforesaid. As it was, Mr Gowan + seemed transferred to Daniel Doyce’s mind; at all events, it so happened + that it usually fell to Mr Doyce’s turn, rather than to Clennam’s, to + speak of him in the friendly conversations they held together. These were + of frequent occurrence now; as the two partners shared a portion of a + roomy house in one of the grave old-fashioned City streets, lying not far + from the Bank of England, by London Wall. + </p> + <p> + Mr Doyce had been to Twickenham to pass the day. Clennam had excused + himself. Mr Doyce was just come home. He put in his head at the door of + Clennam’s sitting-room to say Good night. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come in, come in!’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘I saw you were reading,’ returned Doyce, as he entered, ‘and thought you + might not care to be disturbed.’ + </p> + <p> + But for the notable resolution he had made, Clennam really might not have + known what he had been reading; really might not have had his eyes upon + the book for an hour past, though it lay open before him. He shut it up, + rather quickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are they well?’ he asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Doyce; ‘they are well. They are all well.’ + </p> + <p> + Daniel had an old workmanlike habit of carrying his pocket-handkerchief in + his hat. He took it out and wiped his forehead with it, slowly repeating, + ‘They are all well. Miss Minnie looking particularly well, I thought.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any company at the cottage?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no company.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how did you get on, you four?’ asked Clennam gaily. + </p> + <p> + ‘There were five of us,’ returned his partner. ‘There was What’s-his-name. + He was there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is he?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Henry Gowan.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, to be sure!’ cried Clennam with unusual vivacity, ‘Yes!—I + forgot him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As I mentioned, you may remember,’ said Daniel Doyce, ‘he is always there + on Sunday.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes,’ returned Clennam; ‘I remember now.’ + </p> + <p> + Daniel Doyce, still wiping his forehead, ploddingly repeated. ‘Yes. He was + there, he was there. Oh yes, he was there. And his dog. <i>He</i> was + there too.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Meagles is quite attached to—the—dog,’ observed Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so,’ assented his partner. ‘More attached to the dog than I am to + the man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean Mr—?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean Mr Gowan, most decidedly,’ said Daniel Doyce. + </p> + <p> + There was a gap in the conversation, which Clennam devoted to winding up + his watch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you are a little hasty in your judgment,’ he said. ‘Our judgments—I + am supposing a general case—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ said Doyce. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are so liable to be influenced by many considerations, which, almost + without our knowing it, are unfair, that it is necessary to keep a guard + upon them. For instance, Mr—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gowan,’ quietly said Doyce, upon whom the utterance of the name almost + always devolved. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is young and handsome, easy and quick, has talent, and has seen a good + deal of various kinds of life. It might be difficult to give an unselfish + reason for being prepossessed against him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not difficult for me, I think, Clennam,’ returned his partner. ‘I see him + bringing present anxiety, and, I fear, future sorrow, into my old friend’s + house. I see him wearing deeper lines into my old friend’s face, the + nearer he draws to, and the oftener he looks at, the face of his daughter. + In short, I see him with a net about the pretty and affectionate creature + whom he will never make happy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t know,’ said Clennam, almost in the tone of a man in pain, ‘that + he will not make her happy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t know,’ returned his partner, ‘that the earth will last another + hundred years, but we think it highly probable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well!’ said Clennam, ‘we must be hopeful, and we must at least try + to be, if not generous (which, in this case, we have no opportunity of + being), just. We will not disparage this gentleman, because he is + successful in his addresses to the beautiful object of his ambition; and + we will not question her natural right to bestow her love on one whom she + finds worthy of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Maybe, my friend,’ said Doyce. ‘Maybe also, that she is too young and + petted, too confiding and inexperienced, to discriminate well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That,’ said Clennam, ‘would be far beyond our power of correction.’ + </p> + <p> + Daniel Doyce shook his head gravely, and rejoined, ‘I fear so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Therefore, in a word,’ said Clennam, ‘we should make up our minds that it + is not worthy of us to say any ill of Mr Gowan. It would be a poor thing + to gratify a prejudice against him. And I resolve, for my part, not to + depreciate him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not quite so sure of myself, and therefore I reserve my privilege of + objecting to him,’ returned the other. ‘But, if I am not sure of myself, I + am sure of you, Clennam, and I know what an upright man you are, and how + much to be respected. Good night, <i>my</i> friend and partner!’ He shook + his hand in saying this, as if there had been something serious at the + bottom of their conversation; and they separated. + </p> + <p> + By this time they had visited the family on several occasions, and had + always observed that even a passing allusion to Mr Henry Gowan when he was + not among them, brought back the cloud which had obscured Mr Meagles’s + sunshine on the morning of the chance encounter at the Ferry. If Clennam + had ever admitted the forbidden passion into his breast, this period might + have been a period of real trial; under the actual circumstances, + doubtless it was nothing—nothing. + </p> + <p> + Equally, if his heart had given entertainment to that prohibited guest, + his silent fighting of his way through the mental condition of this period + might have been a little meritorious. In the constant effort not to be + betrayed into a new phase of the besetting sin of his experience, the + pursuit of selfish objects by low and small means, and to hold instead to + some high principle of honour and generosity, there might have been a + little merit. In the resolution not even to avoid Mr Meagles’s house, + lest, in the selfish sparing of himself, he should bring any slight + distress upon the daughter through making her the cause of an estrangement + which he believed the father would regret, there might have been a little + merit. In the modest truthfulness of always keeping in view the greater + equality of Mr Gowan’s years and the greater attractions of his person and + manner, there might have been a little merit. In doing all this and much + more, in a perfectly unaffected way and with a manful and composed + constancy, while the pain within him (peculiar as his life and history) + was very sharp, there might have been some quiet strength of character. + But, after the resolution he had made, of course he could have no such + merits as these; and such a state of mind was nobody’s—nobody’s. + </p> + <p> + Mr Gowan made it no concern of his whether it was nobody’s or somebody’s. + He preserved his perfect serenity of manner on all occasions, as if the + possibility of Clennam’s presuming to have debated the great question were + too distant and ridiculous to be imagined. He had always an affability to + bestow on Clennam and an ease to treat him with, which might of itself (in + the supposititious case of his not having taken that sagacious course) + have been a very uncomfortable element in his state of mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘I quite regret you were not with us yesterday,’ said Mr Henry Gowan, + calling on Clennam the next morning. ‘We had an agreeable day up the river + there.’ + </p> + <p> + So he had heard, Arthur said. + </p> + <p> + ‘From your partner?’ returned Henry Gowan. ‘What a dear old fellow he is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have a great regard for him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Jove, he is the finest creature!’ said Gowan. ‘So fresh, so green, + trusts in such wonderful things!’ + </p> + <p> + Here was one of the many little rough points that had a tendency to grate + on Clennam’s hearing. He put it aside by merely repeating that he had a + high regard for Mr Doyce. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is charming! To see him mooning along to that time of life, laying + down nothing by the way and picking up nothing by the way, is delightful. + It warms a man. So unspoilt, so simple, such a good soul! Upon my life Mr + Clennam, one feels desperately worldly and wicked in comparison with such + an innocent creature. I speak for myself, let me add, without including + you. You are genuine also.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you for the compliment,’ said Clennam, ill at ease; ‘you are too, I + hope?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So so,’ rejoined the other. ‘To be candid with you, tolerably. I am not a + great impostor. Buy one of my pictures, and I assure you, in confidence, + it will not be worth the money. Buy one of another man’s—any great + professor who beats me hollow—and the chances are that the more you + give him, the more he’ll impose upon you. They all do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All painters?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Painters, writers, patriots, all the rest who have stands in the market. + Give almost any man I know ten pounds, and he will impose upon you to a + corresponding extent; a thousand pounds—to a corresponding extent; + ten thousand pounds—to a corresponding extent. So great the success, + so great the imposition. But what a capital world it is!’ cried Gowan with + warm enthusiasm. ‘What a jolly, excellent, lovable world it is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had rather thought,’ said Clennam, ‘that the principle you mention was + chiefly acted on by—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By the Barnacles?’ interrupted Gowan, laughing. + </p> + <p> + ‘By the political gentlemen who condescend to keep the Circumlocution + Office.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Don’t be hard upon the Barnacles,’ said Gowan, laughing afresh, ‘they + are darling fellows! Even poor little Clarence, the born idiot of the + family, is the most agreeable and most endearing blockhead! And by + Jupiter, with a kind of cleverness in him too that would astonish you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would. Very much,’ said Clennam, drily. + </p> + <p> + ‘And after all,’ cried Gowan, with that characteristic balancing of his + which reduced everything in the wide world to the same light weight, + ‘though I can’t deny that the Circumlocution Office may ultimately + shipwreck everybody and everything, still, that will probably not be in + our time—and it’s a school for gentlemen.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a very dangerous, unsatisfactory, and expensive school to the people + who pay to keep the pupils there, I am afraid,’ said Clennam, shaking his + head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! You are a terrible fellow,’ returned Gowan, airily. ‘I can understand + how you have frightened that little donkey, Clarence, the most estimable + of moon-calves (I really love him) nearly out of his wits. But enough of + him, and of all the rest of them. I want to present you to my mother, Mr + Clennam. Pray do me the favour to give me the opportunity.’ + </p> + <p> + In nobody’s state of mind, there was nothing Clennam would have desired + less, or would have been more at a loss how to avoid. + </p> + <p> + ‘My mother lives in a most primitive manner down in that dreary red-brick + dungeon at Hampton Court,’ said Gowan. ‘If you would make your own + appointment, suggest your own day for permitting me to take you there to + dinner, you would be bored and she would be charmed. Really that’s the + state of the case.’ + </p> + <p> + What could Clennam say after this? His retiring character included a great + deal that was simple in the best sense, because unpractised and unused; + and in his simplicity and modesty, he could only say that he was happy to + place himself at Mr Gowan’s disposal. Accordingly he said it, and the day + was fixed. And a dreaded day it was on his part, and a very unwelcome day + when it came and they went down to Hampton Court together. + </p> + <p> + The venerable inhabitants of that venerable pile seemed, in those times, + to be encamped there like a sort of civilised gipsies. There was a + temporary air about their establishments, as if they were going away the + moment they could get anything better; there was also a dissatisfied air + about themselves, as if they took it very ill that they had not already + got something much better. Genteel blinds and makeshifts were more or less + observable as soon as their doors were opened; screens not half high + enough, which made dining-rooms out of arched passages, and warded off + obscure corners where footboys slept at nights with their heads among the + knives and forks; curtains which called upon you to believe that they + didn’t hide anything; panes of glass which requested you not to see them; + many objects of various forms, feigning to have no connection with their + guilty secret, a bed; disguised traps in walls, which were clearly + coal-cellars; affectations of no thoroughfares, which were evidently doors + to little kitchens. Mental reservations and artful mysteries grew out of + these things. Callers looking steadily into the eyes of their receivers, + pretended not to smell cooking three feet off; people, confronting closets + accidentally left open, pretended not to see bottles; visitors with their + heads against a partition of thin canvas, and a page and a young female at + high words on the other side, made believe to be sitting in a primeval + silence. There was no end to the small social accommodation-bills of this + nature which the gipsies of gentility were constantly drawing upon, and + accepting for, one another. + </p> + <p> + Some of these Bohemians were of an irritable temperament, as constantly + soured and vexed by two mental trials: the first, the consciousness that + they had never got enough out of the public; the second, the consciousness + that the public were admitted into the building. Under the latter great + wrong, a few suffered dreadfully—particularly on Sundays, when they + had for some time expected the earth to open and swallow the public up; + but which desirable event had not yet occurred, in consequence of some + reprehensible laxity in the arrangements of the Universe. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan’s door was attended by a family servant of several years’ + standing, who had his own crow to pluck with the public concerning a + situation in the Post-Office which he had been for some time expecting, + and to which he was not yet appointed. He perfectly knew that the public + could never have got him in, but he grimly gratified himself with the idea + that the public kept him out. Under the influence of this injury (and + perhaps of some little straitness and irregularity in the matter of + wages), he had grown neglectful of his person and morose in mind; and now + beholding in Clennam one of the degraded body of his oppressors, received + him with ignominy. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan, however, received him with condescension. He found her a + courtly old lady, formerly a Beauty, and still sufficiently well-favoured + to have dispensed with the powder on her nose and a certain impossible + bloom under each eye. She was a little lofty with him; so was another old + lady, dark-browed and high-nosed, and who must have had something real + about her or she could not have existed, but it was certainly not her hair + or her teeth or her figure or her complexion; so was a grey old gentleman + of dignified and sullen appearance; both of whom had come to dinner. But, + as they had all been in the British Embassy way in sundry parts of the + earth, and as a British Embassy cannot better establish a character with + the Circumlocution Office than by treating its compatriots with + illimitable contempt (else it would become like the Embassies of other + countries), Clennam felt that on the whole they let him off lightly. + </p> + <p> + The dignified old gentleman turned out to be Lord Lancaster Stiltstalking, + who had been maintained by the Circumlocution Office for many years as a + representative of the Britannic Majesty abroad. This noble Refrigerator + had iced several European courts in his time, and had done it with such + complete success that the very name of Englishman yet struck cold to the + stomachs of foreigners who had the distinguished honour of remembering him + at a distance of a quarter of a century. + </p> + <p> + He was now in retirement, and hence (in a ponderous white cravat, like a + stiff snow-drift) was so obliging as to shade the dinner. There was a + whisper of the pervading Bohemian character in the nomadic nature of the + service and its curious races of plates and dishes; but the noble + Refrigerator, infinitely better than plate or porcelain, made it superb. + He shaded the dinner, cooled the wines, chilled the gravy, and blighted + the vegetables. + </p> + <p> + There was only one other person in the room: a microscopically small + footboy, who waited on the malevolent man who hadn’t got into the + Post-Office. Even this youth, if his jacket could have been unbuttoned and + his heart laid bare, would have been seen, as a distant adherent of the + Barnacle family, already to aspire to a situation under Government. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan with a gentle melancholy upon her, occasioned by her son’s being + reduced to court the swinish public as a follower of the low Arts, instead + of asserting his birthright and putting a ring through its nose as an + acknowledged Barnacle, headed the conversation at dinner on the evil days. + It was then that Clennam learned for the first time what little pivots + this great world goes round upon. + </p> + <p> + ‘If John Barnacle,’ said Mrs Gowan, after the degeneracy of the times had + been fully ascertained, ‘if John Barnacle had but abandoned his most + unfortunate idea of conciliating the mob, all would have been well, and I + think the country would have been preserved.’ + </p> + <p> + The old lady with the high nose assented; but added that if Augustus + Stiltstalking had in a general way ordered the cavalry out with + instructions to charge, she thought the country would have been preserved. + </p> + <p> + The noble Refrigerator assented; but added that if William Barnacle and + Tudor Stiltstalking, when they came over to one another and formed their + ever-memorable coalition, had boldly muzzled the newspapers, and rendered + it penal for any Editor-person to presume to discuss the conduct of any + appointed authority abroad or at home, he thought the country would have + been preserved. + </p> + <p> + It was agreed that the country (another word for the Barnacles and + Stiltstalkings) wanted preserving, but how it came to want preserving was + not so clear. It was only clear that the question was all about John + Barnacle, Augustus Stiltstalking, William Barnacle and Tudor + Stiltstalking, Tom, Dick, or Harry Barnacle or Stiltstalking, because + there was nobody else but mob. And this was the feature of the + conversation which impressed Clennam, as a man not used to it, very + disagreeably: making him doubt if it were quite right to sit there, + silently hearing a great nation narrowed to such little bounds. + Remembering, however, that in the Parliamentary debates, whether on the + life of that nation’s body or the life of its soul, the question was + usually all about and between John Barnacle, Augustus Stiltstalking, + William Barnacle and Tudor Stiltstalking, Tom, Dick, or Harry Barnacle or + Stiltstalking, and nobody else; he said nothing on the part of mob, + bethinking himself that mob was used to it. + </p> + <p> + Mr Henry Gowan seemed to have a malicious pleasure in playing off the + three talkers against each other, and in seeing Clennam startled by what + they said. Having as supreme a contempt for the class that had thrown him + off as for the class that had not taken him on, he had no personal + disquiet in anything that passed. His healthy state of mind appeared even + to derive a gratification from Clennam’s position of embarrassment and + isolation among the good company; and if Clennam had been in that + condition with which Nobody was incessantly contending, he would have + suspected it, and would have struggled with the suspicion as a meanness, + even while he sat at the table. + </p> + <p> + In the course of a couple of hours the noble Refrigerator, at no time less + than a hundred years behind the period, got about five centuries in + arrears, and delivered solemn political oracles appropriate to that epoch. + He finished by freezing a cup of tea for his own drinking, and retiring at + his lowest temperature. + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs Gowan, who had been accustomed in her days of a vacant arm-chair + beside her to which to summon state to retain her devoted slaves, one by + one, for short audiences as marks of her especial favour, invited Clennam + with a turn of her fan to approach the presence. He obeyed, and took the + tripod recently vacated by Lord Lancaster Stiltstalking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘apart from the happiness I have in becoming + known to you, though in this odiously inconvenient place—a mere + barrack—there is a subject on which I am dying to speak to you. It + is the subject in connection with which my son first had, I believe, the + pleasure of cultivating your acquaintance.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam inclined his head, as a generally suitable reply to what he did + not yet quite understand. + </p> + <p> + ‘First,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘now, is she really pretty?’ + </p> + <p> + In nobody’s difficulties, he would have found it very difficult to answer; + very difficult indeed to smile, and say ‘Who?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! You know!’ she returned. ‘This flame of Henry’s. This unfortunate + fancy. There! If it is a point of honour that I should originate the name—Miss + Mickles—Miggles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Meagles,’ said Clennam, ‘is very beautiful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Men are so often mistaken on those points,’ returned Mrs Gowan, shaking + her head, ‘that I candidly confess to you I feel anything but sure of it, + even now; though it is something to have Henry corroborated with so much + gravity and emphasis. He picked the people up at Rome, I think?’ + </p> + <p> + The phrase would have given nobody mortal offence. Clennam replied, + ‘Excuse me, I doubt if I understand your expression.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Picked the people up,’ said Mrs Gowan, tapping the sticks of her closed + fan (a large green one, which she used as a hand-screen) on her little + table. ‘Came upon them. Found them out. Stumbled against them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The people?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. The Miggles people.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I really cannot say,’ said Clennam, ‘where my friend Mr Meagles first + presented Mr Henry Gowan to his daughter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am pretty sure he picked her up at Rome; but never mind where—somewhere. + Now (this is entirely between ourselves), is she very plebeian?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, ma’am,’ returned Clennam, ‘I am so undoubtedly plebeian myself, + that I do not feel qualified to judge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very neat!’ said Mrs Gowan, coolly unfurling her screen. ‘Very happy! + From which I infer that you secretly think her manner equal to her looks?’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam, after a moment’s stiffness, bowed. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s comforting, and I hope you may be right. Did Henry tell me you had + travelled with them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I travelled with my friend Mr Meagles, and his wife and daughter, during + some months.’ (Nobody’s heart might have been wrung by the remembrance.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Really comforting, because you must have had a large experience of them. + You see, Mr Clennam, this thing has been going on for a long time, and I + find no improvement in it. Therefore to have the opportunity of speaking + to one so well informed about it as yourself, is an immense relief to me. + Quite a boon. Quite a blessing, I am sure.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me,’ returned Clennam, ‘but I am not in Mr Henry Gowan’s + confidence. I am far from being so well informed as you suppose me to be. + Your mistake makes my position a very delicate one. No word on this topic + has ever passed between Mr Henry Gowan and myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan glanced at the other end of the room, where her son was playing + ecarte on a sofa, with the old lady who was for a charge of cavalry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in his confidence? No,’ said Mrs Gowan. ‘No word has passed between + you? No. That I can imagine. But there are unexpressed confidences, Mr + Clennam; and as you have been together intimately among these people, I + cannot doubt that a confidence of that sort exists in the present case. + Perhaps you have heard that I have suffered the keenest distress of mind + from Henry’s having taken to a pursuit which—well!’ shrugging her + shoulders, ‘a very respectable pursuit, I dare say, and some artists are, + as artists, quite superior persons; still, we never yet in our family have + gone beyond an Amateur, and it is a pardonable weakness to feel a little—’ + </p> + <p> + As Mrs Gowan broke off to heave a sigh, Clennam, however resolute to be + magnanimous, could not keep down the thought that there was mighty little + danger of the family’s ever going beyond an Amateur, even as it was. + </p> + <p> + ‘Henry,’ the mother resumed, ‘is self-willed and resolute; and as these + people naturally strain every nerve to catch him, I can entertain very + little hope, Mr Clennam, that the thing will be broken off. I apprehend + the girl’s fortune will be very small; Henry might have done much better; + there is scarcely anything to compensate for the connection: still, he + acts for himself; and if I find no improvement within a short time, I see + no other course than to resign myself and make the best of these people. I + am infinitely obliged to you for what you have told me.’ + </p> + <p> + As she shrugged her shoulders, Clennam stiffly bowed again. With an uneasy + flush upon his face, and hesitation in his manner, he then said in a still + lower tone than he had adopted yet: + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Gowan, I scarcely know how to acquit myself of what I feel to be a + duty, and yet I must ask you for your kind consideration in attempting to + discharge it. A misconception on your part, a very great misconception if + I may venture to call it so, seems to require setting right. You have + supposed Mr Meagles and his family to strain every nerve, I think you said—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Every nerve,’ repeated Mrs Gowan, looking at him in calm obstinacy, with + her green fan between her face and the fire. + </p> + <p> + ‘To secure Mr Henry Gowan?’ + </p> + <p> + The lady placidly assented. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now that is so far,’ said Arthur, ‘from being the case, that I know Mr + Meagles to be unhappy in this matter; and to have interposed all + reasonable obstacles with the hope of putting an end to it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan shut up her great green fan, tapped him on the arm with it, and + tapped her smiling lips. ‘Why, of course,’ said she. ‘Just what I mean.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur watched her face for some explanation of what she did mean. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you really serious, Mr Clennam? Don’t you see?’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur did not see; and said so. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, don’t I know my son, and don’t I know that this is exactly the way + to hold him?’ said Mrs Gowan, contemptuously; ‘and do not these Miggles + people know it, at least as well as I? Oh, shrewd people, Mr Clennam: + evidently people of business! I believe Miggles belonged to a Bank. It + ought to have been a very profitable Bank, if he had much to do with its + management. This is very well done, indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg and entreat you, ma’am—’ Arthur interposed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Mr Clennam, can you really be so credulous?’ + </p> + <p> + It made such a painful impression upon him to hear her talking in this + haughty tone, and to see her patting her contemptuous lips with her fan, + that he said very earnestly, ‘Believe me, ma’am, this is unjust, a + perfectly groundless suspicion.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Suspicion?’ repeated Mrs Gowan. ‘Not suspicion, Mr Clennam, Certainty. It + is very knowingly done indeed, and seems to have taken <i>you</i> in + completely.’ She laughed; and again sat tapping her lips with her fan, and + tossing her head, as if she added, ‘Don’t tell me. I know such people will + do anything for the honour of such an alliance.’ + </p> + <p> + At this opportune moment, the cards were thrown up, and Mr Henry Gowan + came across the room saying, ‘Mother, if you can spare Mr Clennam for this + time, we have a long way to go, and it’s getting late.’ Mr Clennam + thereupon rose, as he had no choice but to do; and Mrs Gowan showed him, + to the last, the same look and the same tapped contemptuous lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have had a portentously long audience of my mother,’ said Gowan, as + the door closed upon them. ‘I fervently hope she has not bored you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + They had a little open phaeton for the journey, and were soon in it on the + road home. Gowan, driving, lighted a cigar; Clennam declined one. Do what + he would, he fell into such a mood of abstraction that Gowan said again, + ‘I am very much afraid my mother has bored you?’ To which he roused + himself to answer, ‘Not at all!’ and soon relapsed again. + </p> + <p> + In that state of mind which rendered nobody uneasy, his thoughtfulness + would have turned principally on the man at his side. He would have + thought of the morning when he first saw him rooting out the stones with + his heel, and would have asked himself, ‘Does he jerk me out of the path + in the same careless, cruel way?’ He would have thought, had this + introduction to his mother been brought about by him because he knew what + she would say, and that he could thus place his position before a rival + and loftily warn him off, without himself reposing a word of confidence in + him? He would have thought, even if there were no such design as that, had + he brought him there to play with his repressed emotions, and torment him? + The current of these meditations would have been stayed sometimes by a + rush of shame, bearing a remonstrance to himself from his own open nature, + representing that to shelter such suspicions, even for the passing moment, + was not to hold the high, unenvious course he had resolved to keep. At + those times, the striving within him would have been hardest; and looking + up and catching Gowan’s eyes, he would have started as if he had done him + an injury. + </p> + <p> + Then, looking at the dark road and its uncertain objects, he would have + gradually trailed off again into thinking, ‘Where are we driving, he and + I, I wonder, on the darker road of life? How will it be with us, and with + her, in the obscure distance?’ Thinking of her, he would have been + troubled anew with a reproachful misgiving that it was not even loyal to + her to dislike him, and that in being so easily prejudiced against him he + was less deserving of her than at first. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are evidently out of spirits,’ said Gowan; ‘I am very much afraid my + mother must have bored you dreadfully.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Believe me, not at all,’ said Clennam. ‘It’s nothing—nothing!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0027"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 27. Five-and-Twenty + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> frequently recurring doubt, whether Mr Pancks’s desire to collect + information relative to the Dorrit family could have any possible bearing + on the misgivings he had imparted to his mother on his return from his + long exile, caused Arthur Clennam much uneasiness at this period. What Mr + Pancks already knew about the Dorrit family, what more he really wanted to + find out, and why he should trouble his busy head about them at all, were + questions that often perplexed him. Mr Pancks was not a man to waste his + time and trouble in researches prompted by idle curiosity. That he had a + specific object Clennam could not doubt. And whether the attainment of + that object by Mr Pancks’s industry might bring to light, in some untimely + way, secret reasons which had induced his mother to take Little Dorrit by + the hand, was a serious speculation. + </p> + <p> + Not that he ever wavered either in his desire or his determination to + repair a wrong that had been done in his father’s time, should a wrong + come to light, and be reparable. The shadow of a supposed act of + injustice, which had hung over him since his father’s death, was so vague + and formless that it might be the result of a reality widely remote from + his idea of it. But, if his apprehensions should prove to be well founded, + he was ready at any moment to lay down all he had, and begin the world + anew. As the fierce dark teaching of his childhood had never sunk into his + heart, so that first article in his code of morals was, that he must + begin, in practical humility, with looking well to his feet on Earth, and + that he could never mount on wings of words to Heaven. Duty on earth, + restitution on earth, action on earth; these first, as the first steep + steps upward. Strait was the gate and narrow was the way; far straiter and + narrower than the broad high road paved with vain professions and vain + repetitions, motes from other men’s eyes and liberal delivery of others to + the judgment—all cheap materials costing absolutely nothing. + </p> + <p> + No. It was not a selfish fear or hesitation that rendered him uneasy, but + a mistrust lest Pancks might not observe his part of the understanding + between them, and, making any discovery, might take some course upon it + without imparting it to him. On the other hand, when he recalled his + conversation with Pancks, and the little reason he had to suppose that + there was any likelihood of that strange personage being on that track at + all, there were times when he wondered that he made so much of it. + Labouring in this sea, as all barks labour in cross seas, he tossed about + and came to no haven. + </p> + <p> + The removal of Little Dorrit herself from their customary association, did + not mend the matter. She was so much out, and so much in her own room, + that he began to miss her and to find a blank in her place. He had written + to her to inquire if she were better, and she had written back, very + gratefully and earnestly telling him not to be uneasy on her behalf, for + she was quite well; but he had not seen her, for what, in their + intercourse, was a long time. + </p> + <p> + He returned home one evening from an interview with her father, who had + mentioned that she was out visiting—which was what he always said + when she was hard at work to buy his supper—and found Mr Meagles in + an excited state walking up and down his room. On his opening the door, Mr + Meagles stopped, faced round, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Clennam!—Tattycoram!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lost!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, bless my heart alive!’ cried Clennam in amazement. ‘What do you + mean?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wouldn’t count five-and-twenty, sir; couldn’t be got to do it; stopped at + eight, and took herself off.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Left your house?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never to come back,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head. ‘You don’t know + that girl’s passionate and proud character. A team of horses couldn’t draw + her back now; the bolts and bars of the old Bastille couldn’t keep her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How did it happen? Pray sit down and tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As to how it happened, it’s not so easy to relate: because you must have + the unfortunate temperament of the poor impetuous girl herself, before you + can fully understand it. But it came about in this way. Pet and Mother and + I have been having a good deal of talk together of late. I’ll not disguise + from you, Clennam, that those conversations have not been of as bright a + kind as I could wish; they have referred to our going away again. In + proposing to do which, I have had, in fact, an object.’ + </p> + <p> + Nobody’s heart beat quickly. + </p> + <p> + ‘An object,’ said Mr Meagles, after a moment’s pause, ‘that I will not + disguise from you, either, Clennam. There’s an inclination on the part of + my dear child which I am sorry for. Perhaps you guess the person. Henry + Gowan.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was not unprepared to hear it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Mr Meagles, with a heavy sigh, ‘I wish to God you had never + had to hear it. However, so it is. Mother and I have done all we could to + get the better of it, Clennam. We have tried tender advice, we have tried + time, we have tried absence. As yet, of no use. Our late conversations + have been upon the subject of going away for another year at least, in + order that there might be an entire separation and breaking off for that + term. Upon that question, Pet has been unhappy, and therefore Mother and I + have been unhappy.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam said that he could easily believe it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ continued Mr Meagles in an apologetic way, ‘I admit as a practical + man, and I am sure Mother would admit as a practical woman, that we do, in + families, magnify our troubles and make mountains of our molehills in a + way that is calculated to be rather trying to people who look on—to + mere outsiders, you know, Clennam. Still, Pet’s happiness or unhappiness + is quite a life or death question with us; and we may be excused, I hope, + for making much of it. At all events, it might have been borne by + Tattycoram. Now, don’t you think so?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do indeed think so,’ returned Clennam, in most emphatic recognition of + this very moderate expectation. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head ruefully. ‘She couldn’t stand + it. The chafing and firing of that girl, the wearing and tearing of that + girl within her own breast, has been such that I have softly said to her + again and again in passing her, “Five-and-twenty, Tattycoram, + five-and-twenty!” I heartily wish she could have gone on counting + five-and-twenty day and night, and then it wouldn’t have happened.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles with a despondent countenance in which the goodness of his + heart was even more expressed than in his times of cheerfulness and + gaiety, stroked his face down from his forehead to his chin, and shook his + head again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I said to Mother (not that it was necessary, for she would have thought + it all for herself), we are practical people, my dear, and we know her + story; we see in this unhappy girl some reflection of what was raging in + her mother’s heart before ever such a creature as this poor thing was in + the world; we’ll gloss her temper over, Mother, we won’t notice it at + present, my dear, we’ll take advantage of some better disposition in her + another time. So we said nothing. But, do what we would, it seems as if it + was to be; she broke out violently one night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How, and why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you ask me Why,’ said Mr Meagles, a little disturbed by the question, + for he was far more intent on softening her case than the family’s, ‘I can + only refer you to what I have just repeated as having been pretty near my + words to Mother. As to How, we had said Good night to Pet in her presence + (very affectionately, I must allow), and she had attended Pet up-stairs—you + remember she was her maid. Perhaps Pet, having been out of sorts, may have + been a little more inconsiderate than usual in requiring services of her: + but I don’t know that I have any right to say so; she was always + thoughtful and gentle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The gentlest mistress in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking him by the hand; ‘you have + often seen them together. Well! We presently heard this unfortunate + Tattycoram loud and angry, and before we could ask what was the matter, + Pet came back in a tremble, saying she was frightened of her. Close after + her came Tattycoram in a flaming rage. “I hate you all three,” says she, + stamping her foot at us. “I am bursting with hate of the whole house.”’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon which you—?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I?’ said Mr Meagles, with a plain good faith that might have commanded + the belief of Mrs Gowan herself. ‘I said, count five-and-twenty, + Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles again stroked his face and shook his head, with an air of + profound regret. + </p> + <p> + ‘She was so used to do it, Clennam, that even then, such a picture of + passion as you never saw, she stopped short, looked me full in the face, + and counted (as I made out) to eight. But she couldn’t control herself to + go any further. There she broke down, poor thing, and gave the other + seventeen to the four winds. Then it all burst out. She detested us, she + was miserable with us, she couldn’t bear it, she wouldn’t bear it, she was + determined to go away. She was younger than her young mistress, and would + she remain to see her always held up as the only creature who was young + and interesting, and to be cherished and loved? No. She wouldn’t, she + wouldn’t, she wouldn’t! What did we think she, Tattycoram, might have been + if she had been caressed and cared for in her childhood, like her young + mistress? As good as her? Ah! Perhaps fifty times as good. When we + pretended to be so fond of one another, we exulted over her; that was what + we did; we exulted over her and shamed her. And all in the house did the + same. They talked about their fathers and mothers, and brothers and + sisters; they liked to drag them up before her face. There was Mrs Tickit, + only yesterday, when her little grandchild was with her, had been amused + by the child’s trying to call her (Tattycoram) by the wretched name we + gave her; and had laughed at the name. Why, who didn’t; and who were we + that we should have a right to name her like a dog or a cat? But she + didn’t care. She would take no more benefits from us; she would fling us + her name back again, and she would go. She would leave us that minute, + nobody should stop her, and we should never hear of her again.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles had recited all this with such a vivid remembrance of his + original, that he was almost as flushed and hot by this time as he + described her to have been. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, well!’ he said, wiping his face. ‘It was of no use trying reason + then, with that vehement panting creature (Heaven knows what her mother’s + story must have been); so I quietly told her that she should not go at + that late hour of night, and I gave her my hand and took her to her room, + and locked the house doors. But she was gone this morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you know no more of her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No more,’ returned Mr Meagles. ‘I have been hunting about all day. She + must have gone very early and very silently. I have found no trace of her + down about us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay! You want,’ said Clennam, after a moment’s reflection, ‘to see her? + I assume that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, assuredly; I want to give her another chance; Mother and Pet want to + give her another chance; come! You yourself,’ said Mr Meagles, + persuasively, as if the provocation to be angry were not his own at all, + ‘want to give the poor passionate girl another chance, I know, Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would be strange and hard indeed if I did not,’ said Clennam, ‘when + you are all so forgiving. What I was going to ask you was, have you + thought of that Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have. I did not think of her until I had pervaded the whole of our + neighbourhood, and I don’t know that I should have done so then but for + finding Mother and Pet, when I went home, full of the idea that Tattycoram + must have gone to her. Then, of course, I recalled what she said that day + at dinner when you were first with us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you any idea where Miss Wade is to be found?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To tell you the truth,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘it’s because I have an + addled jumble of a notion on that subject that you found me waiting here. + There is one of those odd impressions in my house, which do mysteriously + get into houses sometimes, which nobody seems to have picked up in a + distinct form from anybody, and yet which everybody seems to have got hold + of loosely from somebody and let go again, that she lives, or was living, + thereabouts.’ Mr Meagles handed him a slip of paper, on which was written + the name of one of the dull by-streets in the Grosvenor region, near Park + Lane. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is no number,’ said Arthur looking over it. + </p> + <p> + ‘No number, my dear Clennam?’ returned his friend. ‘No anything! The very + name of the street may have been floating in the air; for, as I tell you, + none of my people can say where they got it from. However, it’s worth an + inquiry; and as I would rather make it in company than alone, and as you + too were a fellow-traveller of that immovable woman’s, I thought perhaps—’ + Clennam finished the sentence for him by taking up his hat again, and + saying he was ready. + </p> + <p> + It was now summer-time; a grey, hot, dusty evening. They rode to the top + of Oxford Street, and there alighting, dived in among the great streets of + melancholy stateliness, and the little streets that try to be as stately + and succeed in being more melancholy, of which there is a labyrinth near + Park Lane. Wildernesses of corner houses, with barbarous old porticoes and + appurtenances; horrors that came into existence under some wrong-headed + person in some wrong-headed time, still demanding the blind admiration of + all ensuing generations and determined to do so until they tumbled down; + frowned upon the twilight. Parasite little tenements, with the cramp in + their whole frame, from the dwarf hall-door on the giant model of His + Grace’s in the Square to the squeezed window of the boudoir commanding the + dunghills in the Mews, made the evening doleful. Rickety dwellings of + undoubted fashion, but of a capacity to hold nothing comfortably except a + dismal smell, looked like the last result of the great mansions’ breeding + in-and-in; and, where their little supplementary bows and balconies were + supported on thin iron columns, seemed to be scrofulously resting upon + crutches. Here and there a Hatchment, with the whole science of Heraldry + in it, loomed down upon the street, like an Archbishop discoursing on + Vanity. The shops, few in number, made no show; for popular opinion was as + nothing to them. The pastrycook knew who was on his books, and in that + knowledge could be calm, with a few glass cylinders of dowager + peppermint-drops in his window, and half-a-dozen ancient specimens of + currant-jelly. A few oranges formed the greengrocer’s whole concession to + the vulgar mind. A single basket made of moss, once containing plovers’ + eggs, held all that the poulterer had to say to the rabble. Everybody in + those streets seemed (which is always the case at that hour and season) to + be gone out to dinner, and nobody seemed to be giving the dinners they had + gone to. On the doorsteps there were lounging footmen with bright + parti-coloured plumage and white polls, like an extinct race of monstrous + birds; and butlers, solitary men of recluse demeanour, each of whom + appeared distrustful of all other butlers. The roll of carriages in the + Park was done for the day; the street lamps were lighting; and wicked + little grooms in the tightest fitting garments, with twists in their legs + answering to the twists in their minds, hung about in pairs, chewing + straws and exchanging fraudulent secrets. The spotted dogs who went out + with the carriages, and who were so associated with splendid equipages + that it looked like a condescension in those animals to come out without + them, accompanied helpers to and fro on messages. Here and there was a + retiring public-house which did not require to be supported on the + shoulders of the people, and where gentlemen out of livery were not much + wanted. + </p> + <p> + This last discovery was made by the two friends in pursuing their + inquiries. Nothing was there, or anywhere, known of such a person as Miss + Wade, in connection with the street they sought. It was one of the + parasite streets; long, regular, narrow, dull and gloomy; like a brick and + mortar funeral. They inquired at several little area gates, where a + dejected youth stood spiking his chin on the summit of a precipitous + little shoot of wooden steps, but could gain no information. They walked + up the street on one side of the way, and down it on the other, what time + two vociferous news-sellers, announcing an extraordinary event that had + never happened and never would happen, pitched their hoarse voices into + the secret chambers; but nothing came of it. At length they stood at the + corner from which they had begun, and it had fallen quite dark, and they + were no wiser. + </p> + <p> + It happened that in the street they had several times passed a dingy + house, apparently empty, with bills in the windows, announcing that it was + to let. The bills, as a variety in the funeral procession, almost amounted + to a decoration. Perhaps because they kept the house separated in his + mind, or perhaps because Mr Meagles and himself had twice agreed in + passing, ‘It is clear she don’t live there,’ Clennam now proposed that + they should go back and try that house before finally going away. Mr + Meagles agreed, and back they went. + </p> + <p> + They knocked once, and they rang once, without any response. ‘Empty,’ said + Mr Meagles, listening. ‘Once more,’ said Clennam, and knocked again. After + that knock they heard a movement below, and somebody shuffling up towards + the door. + </p> + <p> + The confined entrance was so dark that it was impossible to make out + distinctly what kind of person opened the door; but it appeared to be an + old woman. ‘Excuse our troubling you,’ said Clennam. ‘Pray can you tell us + where Miss Wade lives?’ The voice in the darkness unexpectedly replied, + ‘Lives here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is she at home?’ + </p> + <p> + No answer coming, Mr Meagles asked again. ‘Pray is she at home?’ + </p> + <p> + After another delay, ‘I suppose she is,’ said the voice abruptly; ‘you had + better come in, and I’ll ask.’ + </p> + <p> + They were summarily shut into the close black house; and the figure + rustling away, and speaking from a higher level, said, ‘Come up, if you + please; you can’t tumble over anything.’ They groped their way up-stairs + towards a faint light, which proved to be the light of the street shining + through a window; and the figure left them shut in an airless room. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is odd, Clennam,’ said Mr Meagles, softly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Odd enough,’ assented Clennam in the same tone, ‘but we have succeeded; + that’s the main point. Here’s a light coming!’ + </p> + <p> + The light was a lamp, and the bearer was an old woman: very dirty, very + wrinkled and dry. ‘She’s at home,’ she said (and the voice was the same + that had spoken before); ‘she’ll come directly.’ Having set the lamp down + on the table, the old woman dusted her hands on her apron, which she might + have done for ever without cleaning them, looked at the visitors with a + dim pair of eyes, and backed out. + </p> + <p> + The lady whom they had come to see, if she were the present occupant of + the house, appeared to have taken up her quarters there as she might have + established herself in an Eastern caravanserai. A small square of carpet + in the middle of the room, a few articles of furniture that evidently did + not belong to the room, and a disorder of trunks and travelling articles, + formed the whole of her surroundings. Under some former regular + inhabitant, the stifling little apartment had broken out into a pier-glass + and a gilt table; but the gilding was as faded as last year’s flowers, and + the glass was so clouded that it seemed to hold in magic preservation all + the fogs and bad weather it had ever reflected. The visitors had had a + minute or two to look about them, when the door opened and Miss Wade came + in. + </p> + <p> + She was exactly the same as when they had parted, just as handsome, just + as scornful, just as repressed. She manifested no surprise in seeing them, + nor any other emotion. She requested them to be seated; and declining to + take a seat herself, at once anticipated any introduction of their + business. + </p> + <p> + ‘I apprehend,’ she said, ‘that I know the cause of your favouring me with + this visit. We may come to it at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The cause then, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘is Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I supposed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Wade,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘will you be so kind as to say whether you + know anything of her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely. I know she is here with me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘allow me to make known to you that I + shall be happy to have her back, and that my wife and daughter will be + happy to have her back. She has been with us a long time: we don’t forget + her claims upon us, and I hope we know how to make allowances.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You hope to know how to make allowances?’ she returned, in a level, + measured voice. ‘For what?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think my friend would say, Miss Wade,’ Arthur Clennam interposed, + seeing Mr Meagles rather at a loss, ‘for the passionate sense that + sometimes comes upon the poor girl, of being at a disadvantage. Which + occasionally gets the better of better remembrances.’ + </p> + <p> + The lady broke into a smile as she turned her eyes upon him. ‘Indeed?’ was + all she answered. + </p> + <p> + She stood by the table so perfectly composed and still after this + acknowledgment of his remark that Mr Meagles stared at her under a sort of + fascination, and could not even look to Clennam to make another move. + After waiting, awkwardly enough, for some moments, Arthur said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it would be well if Mr Meagles could see her, Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That is easily done,’ said she. ‘Come here, child.’ She had opened a door + while saying this, and now led the girl in by the hand. It was very + curious to see them standing together: the girl with her disengaged + fingers plaiting the bosom of her dress, half irresolutely, half + passionately; Miss Wade with her composed face attentively regarding her, + and suggesting to an observer, with extraordinary force, in her composure + itself (as a veil will suggest the form it covers), the unquenchable + passion of her own nature. + </p> + <p> + ‘See here,’ she said, in the same level way as before. ‘Here is your + patron, your master. He is willing to take you back, my dear, if you are + sensible of the favour and choose to go. You can be, again, a foil to his + pretty daughter, a slave to her pleasant wilfulness, and a toy in the + house showing the goodness of the family. You can have your droll name + again, playfully pointing you out and setting you apart, as it is right + that you should be pointed out and set apart. (Your birth, you know; you + must not forget your birth.) You can again be shown to this gentleman’s + daughter, Harriet, and kept before her, as a living reminder of her own + superiority and her gracious condescension. You can recover all these + advantages and many more of the same kind which I dare say start up in + your memory while I speak, and which you lose in taking refuge with me—you + can recover them all by telling these gentlemen how humbled and penitent + you are, and by going back to them to be forgiven. What do you say, + Harriet? Will you go?’ + </p> + <p> + The girl who, under the influence of these words, had gradually risen in + anger and heightened in colour, answered, raising her lustrous black eyes + for the moment, and clenching her hand upon the folds it had been + puckering up, ‘I’d die sooner!’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Wade, still standing at her side holding her hand, looked quietly + round and said with a smile, ‘Gentlemen! What do you do upon that?’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Mr Meagles’s inexpressible consternation in hearing his motives and + actions so perverted, had prevented him from interposing any word until + now; but now he regained the power of speech. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tattycoram,’ said he, ‘for I’ll call you by that name still, my good + girl, conscious that I meant nothing but kindness when I gave it to you, + and conscious that you know it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t!’ said she, looking up again, and almost rending herself with the + same busy hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not now, perhaps,’ said Mr Meagles; ‘not with that lady’s eyes so + intent upon you, Tattycoram,’ she glanced at them for a moment, ‘and that + power over you, which we see she exercises; not now, perhaps, but at + another time. Tattycoram, I’ll not ask that lady whether she believes what + she has said, even in the anger and ill blood in which I and my friend + here equally know she has spoken, though she subdues herself, with a + determination that any one who has once seen her is not likely to forget. + I’ll not ask you, with your remembrance of my house and all belonging to + it, whether you believe it. I’ll only say that you have no profession to + make to me or mine, and no forgiveness to entreat; and that all in the + world that I ask you to do, is, to count five-and-twenty, Tattycoram.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for an instant, and then said frowningly, ‘I won’t. Miss + Wade, take me away, please.’ + </p> + <p> + The contention that raged within her had no softening in it now; it was + wholly between passionate defiance and stubborn defiance. Her rich colour, + her quick blood, her rapid breath, were all setting themselves against the + opportunity of retracing their steps. ‘I won’t. I won’t. I won’t!’ she + repeated in a low, thick voice. ‘I’d be torn to pieces first. I’d tear + myself to pieces first!’ + </p> + <p> + Miss Wade, who had released her hold, laid her hand protectingly on the + girl’s neck for a moment, and then said, looking round with her former + smile and speaking exactly in her former tone, ‘Gentlemen! What do you do + upon that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Tattycoram, Tattycoram!’ cried Mr Meagles, adjuring her besides with + an earnest hand. ‘Hear that lady’s voice, look at that lady’s face, + consider what is in that lady’s heart, and think what a future lies before + you. My child, whatever you may think, that lady’s influence over you—astonishing + to us, and I should hardly go too far in saying terrible to us to see—is + founded in passion fiercer than yours, and temper more violent than yours. + What can you two be together? What can come of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am alone here, gentlemen,’ observed Miss Wade, with no change of voice + or manner. ‘Say anything you will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Politeness must yield to this misguided girl, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, + ‘at her present pass; though I hope not altogether to dismiss it, even + with the injury you do her so strongly before me. Excuse me for reminding + you in her hearing—I must say it—that you were a mystery to + all of us, and had nothing in common with any of us when she unfortunately + fell in your way. I don’t know what you are, but you don’t hide, can’t + hide, what a dark spirit you have within you. If it should happen that you + are a woman, who, from whatever cause, has a perverted delight in making a + sister-woman as wretched as she is (I am old enough to have heard of + such), I warn her against you, and I warn you against yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gentlemen!’ said Miss Wade, calmly. ‘When you have concluded—Mr + Clennam, perhaps you will induce your friend—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not without another effort,’ said Mr Meagles, stoutly. ‘Tattycoram, my + poor dear girl, count five-and-twenty.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0296m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0296m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0296.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Do not reject the hope, the certainty, this kind man offers you,’ said + Clennam in a low emphatic voice. ‘Turn to the friends you have not + forgotten. Think once more!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I won’t! Miss Wade,’ said the girl, with her bosom swelling high, and + speaking with her hand held to her throat, ‘take me away!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tattycoram,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Once more yet! The only thing I ask of you + in the world, my child! Count five-and-twenty!’ + </p> + <p> + She put her hands tightly over her ears, confusedly tumbling down her + bright black hair in the vehemence of the action, and turned her face + resolutely to the wall. Miss Wade, who had watched her under this final + appeal with that strange attentive smile, and that repressing hand upon + her own bosom with which she had watched her in her struggle at + Marseilles, then put her arm about her waist as if she took possession of + her for evermore. + </p> + <p> + And there was a visible triumph in her face when she turned it to dismiss + the visitors. + </p> + <p> + ‘As it is the last time I shall have the honour,’ she said, ‘and as you + have spoken of not knowing what I am, and also of the foundation of my + influence here, you may now know that it is founded in a common cause. + What your broken plaything is as to birth, I am. She has no name, I have + no name. Her wrong is my wrong. I have nothing more to say to you.’ + </p> + <p> + This was addressed to Mr Meagles, who sorrowfully went out. As Clennam + followed, she said to him, with the same external composure and in the + same level voice, but with a smile that is only seen on cruel faces: a + very faint smile, lifting the nostril, scarcely touching the lips, and not + breaking away gradually, but instantly dismissed when done with: + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope the wife of your dear friend Mr Gowan, may be happy in the + contrast of her extraction to this girl’s and mine, and in the high good + fortune that awaits her.’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0028"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 28. Nobody’s Disappearance + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ot resting satisfied with the endeavours he had made to recover his lost + charge, Mr Meagles addressed a letter of remonstrance, breathing nothing + but goodwill, not only to her, but to Miss Wade too. No answer coming to + these epistles, or to another written to the stubborn girl by the hand of + her late young mistress, which might have melted her if anything could + (all three letters were returned weeks afterwards as having been refused + at the house-door), he deputed Mrs Meagles to make the experiment of a + personal interview. That worthy lady being unable to obtain one, and being + steadfastly denied admission, Mr Meagles besought Arthur to essay once + more what he could do. All that came of his compliance was, his discovery + that the empty house was left in charge of the old woman, that Miss Wade + was gone, that the waifs and strays of furniture were gone, and that the + old woman would accept any number of half-crowns and thank the donor + kindly, but had no information whatever to exchange for those coins, + beyond constantly offering for perusal a memorandum relative to fixtures, + which the house-agent’s young man had left in the hall. + </p> + <p> + Unwilling, even under this discomfiture, to resign the ingrate and leave + her hopeless, in case of her better dispositions obtaining the mastery + over the darker side of her character, Mr Meagles, for six successive + days, published a discreetly covert advertisement in the morning papers, + to the effect that if a certain young person who had lately left home + without reflection, would at any time apply to his address at Twickenham, + everything would be as it had been before, and no reproaches need be + apprehended. The unexpected consequences of this notification suggested to + the dismayed Mr Meagles for the first time that some hundreds of young + persons must be leaving their homes without reflection every day; for + shoals of wrong young people came down to Twickenham, who, not finding + themselves received with enthusiasm, generally demanded compensation by + way of damages, in addition to coach-hire there and back. Nor were these + the only uninvited clients whom the advertisement produced. The swarm of + begging-letter writers, who would seem to be always watching eagerly for + any hook, however small, to hang a letter upon, wrote to say that having + seen the advertisement, they were induced to apply with confidence for + various sums, ranging from ten shillings to fifty pounds: not because they + knew anything about the young person, but because they felt that to part + with those donations would greatly relieve the advertiser’s mind. Several + projectors, likewise, availed themselves of the same opportunity to + correspond with Mr Meagles; as, for example, to apprise him that their + attention having been called to the advertisement by a friend, they begged + to state that if they should ever hear anything of the young person, they + would not fail to make it known to him immediately, and that in the + meantime if he would oblige them with the funds necessary for bringing to + perfection a certain entirely novel description of Pump, the happiest + results would ensue to mankind. + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles and his family, under these combined discouragements, had begun + reluctantly to give up Tattycoram as irrecoverable, when the new and + active firm of Doyce and Clennam, in their private capacities, went down + on a Saturday to stay at the cottage until Monday. The senior partner took + the coach, and the junior partner took his walking-stick. + </p> + <p> + A tranquil summer sunset shone upon him as he approached the end of his + walk, and passed through the meadows by the river side. He had that sense + of peace, and of being lightened of a weight of care, which country quiet + awakens in the breasts of dwellers in towns. Everything within his view + was lovely and placid. The rich foliage of the trees, the luxuriant grass + diversified with wild flowers, the little green islands in the river, the + beds of rushes, the water-lilies floating on the surface of the stream, + the distant voices in boats borne musically towards him on the ripple of + the water and the evening air, were all expressive of rest. In the + occasional leap of a fish, or dip of an oar, or twittering of a bird not + yet at roost, or distant barking of a dog, or lowing of a cow—in all + such sounds, there was the prevailing breath of rest, which seemed to + encompass him in every scent that sweetened the fragrant air. The long + lines of red and gold in the sky, and the glorious track of the descending + sun, were all divinely calm. Upon the purple tree-tops far away, and on + the green height near at hand up which the shades were slowly creeping, + there was an equal hush. Between the real landscape and its shadow in the + water, there was no division; both were so untroubled and clear, and, + while so fraught with solemn mystery of life and death, so hopefully + reassuring to the gazer’s soothed heart, because so tenderly and + mercifully beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Clennam had stopped, not for the first time by many times, to look about + him and suffer what he saw to sink into his soul, as the shadows, looked + at, seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the water. He was slowly + resuming his way, when he saw a figure in the path before him which he + had, perhaps, already associated with the evening and its impressions. + </p> + <p> + Minnie was there, alone. She had some roses in her hand, and seemed to + have stood still on seeing him, waiting for him. Her face was towards him, + and she appeared to have been coming from the opposite direction. There + was a flutter in her manner, which Clennam had never seen in it before; + and as he came near her, it entered his mind all at once that she was + there of a set purpose to speak to him. + </p> + <p> + She gave him her hand, and said, ‘You wonder to see me here by myself? But + the evening is so lovely, I have strolled further than I meant at first. I + thought it likely I might meet you, and that made me more confident. You + always come this way, do you not?’ + </p> + <p> + As Clennam said that it was his favourite way, he felt her hand falter on + his arm, and saw the roses shake. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you let me give you one, Mr Clennam? I gathered them as I came out + of the garden. Indeed, I almost gathered them for you, thinking it so + likely I might meet you. Mr Doyce arrived more than an hour ago, and told + us you were walking down.’ + </p> + <p> + His own hand shook, as he accepted a rose or two from hers and thanked + her. They were now by an avenue of trees. Whether they turned into it on + his movement or on hers matters little. He never knew how that was. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is very grave here,’ said Clennam, ‘but very pleasant at this hour. + Passing along this deep shade, and out at that arch of light at the other + end, we come upon the ferry and the cottage by the best approach, I + think.’ + </p> + <p> + In her simple garden-hat and her light summer dress, with her rich brown + hair naturally clustering about her, and her wonderful eyes raised to his + for a moment with a look in which regard for him and trustfulness in him + were strikingly blended with a kind of timid sorrow for him, she was so + beautiful that it was well for his peace—or ill for his peace, he + did not quite know which—that he had made that vigorous resolution + he had so often thought about. + </p> + <p> + She broke a momentary silence by inquiring if he knew that papa had been + thinking of another tour abroad? He said he had heard it mentioned. She + broke another momentary silence by adding, with some hesitation, that papa + had abandoned the idea. + </p> + <p> + At this, he thought directly, ‘they are to be married.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ she said, hesitating more timidly yet, and speaking so low + that he bent his head to hear her. ‘I should very much like to give you my + confidence, if you would not mind having the goodness to receive it. I + should have very much liked to have given it to you long ago, because—I + felt that you were becoming so much our friend.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can I be otherwise than proud of it at any time! Pray give it to me. + Pray trust me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I could never have been afraid of trusting you,’ she returned, raising + her eyes frankly to his face. ‘I think I would have done so some time ago, + if I had known how. But I scarcely know how, even now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Gowan,’ said Arthur Clennam, ‘has reason to be very happy. God bless + his wife and him!’ + </p> + <p> + She wept, as she tried to thank him. He reassured her, took her hand as it + lay with the trembling roses in it on his arm, took the remaining roses + from it, and put it to his lips. At that time, it seemed to him, he first + finally resigned the dying hope that had flickered in nobody’s heart so + much to its pain and trouble; and from that time he became in his own + eyes, as to any similar hope or prospect, a very much older man who had + done with that part of life. + </p> + <p> + He put the roses in his breast and they walked on for a little while, + slowly and silently, under the umbrageous trees. Then he asked her, in a + voice of cheerful kindness, was there anything else that she would say to + him as her friend and her father’s friend, many years older than herself; + was there any trust she would repose in him, any service she would ask of + him, any little aid to her happiness that she could give him the lasting + gratification of believing it was in his power to render? + </p> + <p> + She was going to answer, when she was so touched by some little hidden + sorrow or sympathy—what could it have been?—that she said, + bursting into tears again: ‘O Mr Clennam! Good, generous, Mr Clennam, pray + tell me you do not blame me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I blame you?’ said Clennam. ‘My dearest girl! I blame you? No!’ + </p> + <p> + After clasping both her hands upon his arm, and looking confidentially up + into his face, with some hurried words to the effect that she thanked him + from her heart (as she did, if it be the source of earnestness), she + gradually composed herself, with now and then a word of encouragement from + him, as they walked on slowly and almost silently under the darkening + trees. + </p> + <p> + ‘And, now, Minnie Gowan,’ at length said Clennam, smiling; ‘will you ask + me nothing?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I have very much to ask of you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s well! I hope so; I am not disappointed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know how I am loved at home, and how I love home. You can hardly + think it perhaps, dear Mr Clennam,’ she spoke with great agitation, + ‘seeing me going from it of my own free will and choice, but I do so + dearly love it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure of that,’ said Clennam. ‘Can you suppose I doubt it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no. But it is strange, even to me, that loving it so much and being + so much beloved in it, I can bear to cast it away. It seems so neglectful + of it, so unthankful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear girl,’ said Clennam, ‘it is in the natural progress and change of + time. All homes are left so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know; but all homes are not left with such a blank in them as + there will be in mine when I am gone. Not that there is any scarcity of + far better and more endearing and more accomplished girls than I am; not + that I am much, but that they have made so much of me!’ + </p> + <p> + Pet’s affectionate heart was overcharged, and she sobbed while she + pictured what would happen. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know what a change papa will feel at first, and I know that at first I + cannot be to him anything like what I have been these many years. And it + is then, Mr Clennam, then more than at any time, that I beg and entreat + you to remember him, and sometimes to keep him company when you can spare + a little while; and to tell him that you know I was fonder of him when I + left him, than I ever was in all my life. For there is nobody—he + told me so himself when he talked to me this very day—there is + nobody he likes so well as you, or trusts so much.’ + </p> + <p> + A clue to what had passed between the father and daughter dropped like a + heavy stone into the well of Clennam’s heart, and swelled the water to his + eyes. He said, cheerily, but not quite so cheerily as he tried to say, + that it should be done—that he gave her his faithful promise. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I do not speak of mama,’ said Pet, more moved by, and more pretty in, + her innocent grief, than Clennam could trust himself even to consider—for + which reason he counted the trees between them and the fading light as + they slowly diminished in number—‘it is because mama will understand + me better in this action, and will feel my loss in a different way, and + will look forward in a different manner. But you know what a dear, devoted + mother she is, and you will remember her too; will you not?’ + </p> + <p> + Let Minnie trust him, Clennam said, let Minnie trust him to do all she + wished. + </p> + <p> + ‘And, dear Mr Clennam,’ said Minnie, ‘because papa and one whom I need not + name, do not fully appreciate and understand one another yet, as they will + by-and-by; and because it will be the duty, and the pride, and pleasure of + my new life, to draw them to a better knowledge of one another, and to be + a happiness to one another, and to be proud of one another, and to love + one another, both loving me so dearly; oh, as you are a kind, true man! + when I am first separated from home (I am going a long distance away), try + to reconcile papa to him a little more, and use your great influence to + keep him before papa’s mind free from prejudice and in his real form. Will + you do this for me, as you are a noble-hearted friend?’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Pet! Self-deceived, mistaken child! When were such changes ever made + in men’s natural relations to one another: when was such reconcilement of + ingrain differences ever effected! It has been tried many times by other + daughters, Minnie; it has never succeeded; nothing has ever come of it but + failure. + </p> + <p> + So Clennam thought. So he did not say; it was too late. He bound himself + to do all she asked, and she knew full well that he would do it. + </p> + <p> + They were now at the last tree in the avenue. She stopped, and withdrew + her arm. Speaking to him with her eyes lifted up to his, and with the hand + that had lately rested on his sleeve trembling by touching one of the + roses in his breast as an additional appeal to him, she said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Mr Clennam, in my happiness—for I am happy, though you have + seen me crying—I cannot bear to leave any cloud between us. If you + have anything to forgive me (not anything that I have wilfully done, but + any trouble I may have caused you without meaning it, or having it in my + power to help it), forgive me to-night out of your noble heart!’ + </p> + <p> + He stooped to meet the guileless face that met his without shrinking. He + kissed it, and answered, Heaven knew that he had nothing to forgive. As he + stooped to meet the innocent face once again, she whispered, ‘Good-bye!’ + and he repeated it. It was taking leave of all his old hopes—all + nobody’s old restless doubts. They came out of the avenue next moment, + arm-in-arm as they had entered it: and the trees seemed to close up behind + them in the darkness, like their own perspective of the past. + </p> + <p> + The voices of Mr and Mrs Meagles and Doyce were audible directly, speaking + near the garden gate. Hearing Pet’s name among them, Clennam called out, + ‘She is here, with me.’ There was some little wondering and laughing until + they came up; but as soon as they had all come together, it ceased, and + Pet glided away. + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles, Doyce, and Clennam, without speaking, walked up and down on + the brink of the river, in the light of the rising moon, for a few + minutes; and then Doyce lingered behind, and went into the house. Mr + Meagles and Clennam walked up and down together for a few minutes more + without speaking, until at length the former broke silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Arthur,’ said he, using that familiar address for the first time in their + communication, ‘do you remember my telling you, as we walked up and down + one hot morning, looking over the harbour at Marseilles, that Pet’s baby + sister who was dead seemed to Mother and me to have grown as she had + grown, and changed as she had changed?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You remember my saying that our thoughts had never been able to separate + those twin sisters, and that, in our fancy, whatever Pet was, the other + was?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, very well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Arthur,’ said Mr Meagles, much subdued, ‘I carry that fancy further + to-night. I feel to-night, my dear fellow, as if you had loved my dead + child very tenderly, and had lost her when she was like what Pet is now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you!’ murmured Clennam, ‘thank you!’ And pressed his hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you come in?’ said Mr Meagles, presently. + </p> + <p> + ‘In a little while.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0305m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0305m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0305.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Mr Meagles fell away, and he was left alone. When he had walked on the + river’s brink in the peaceful moonlight for some half an hour, he put his + hand in his breast and tenderly took out the handful of roses. Perhaps he + put them to his heart, perhaps he put them to his lips, but certainly he + bent down on the shore and gently launched them on the flowing river. Pale + and unreal in the moonlight, the river floated them away. + </p> + <p> + The lights were bright within doors when he entered, and the faces on + which they shone, his own face not excepted, were soon quietly cheerful. + They talked of many subjects (his partner never had had such a ready store + to draw upon for the beguiling of the time), and so to bed, and to sleep. + While the flowers, pale and unreal in the moonlight, floated away upon the + river; and thus do greater things that once were in our breasts, and near + our hearts, flow from us to the eternal seas. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0029"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 29. Mrs Flintwinch goes on Dreaming + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he house in the city preserved its heavy dulness through all these + transactions, and the invalid within it turned the same unvarying round of + life. Morning, noon, and night, morning, noon, and night, each recurring + with its accompanying monotony, always the same reluctant return of the + same sequences of machinery, like a dragging piece of clockwork. + </p> + <p> + The wheeled chair had its associated remembrances and reveries, one may + suppose, as every place that is made the station of a human being has. + Pictures of demolished streets and altered houses, as they formerly were + when the occupant of the chair was familiar with them, images of people as + they too used to be, with little or no allowance made for the lapse of + time since they were seen; of these, there must have been many in the long + routine of gloomy days. To stop the clock of busy existence at the hour + when we were personally sequestered from it, to suppose mankind stricken + motionless when we were brought to a stand-still, to be unable to measure + the changes beyond our view by any larger standard than the shrunken one + of our own uniform and contracted existence, is the infirmity of many + invalids, and the mental unhealthiness of almost all recluses. + </p> + <p> + What scenes and actors the stern woman most reviewed, as she sat from + season to season in her one dark room, none knew but herself. Mr + Flintwinch, with his wry presence brought to bear upon her daily like some + eccentric mechanical force, would perhaps have screwed it out of her, if + there had been less resistance in her; but she was too strong for him. So + far as Mistress Affery was concerned, to regard her liege-lord and her + disabled mistress with a face of blank wonder, to go about the house after + dark with her apron over her head, always to listen for the strange noises + and sometimes to hear them, and never to emerge from her ghostly, dreamy, + sleep-waking state, was occupation enough for her. + </p> + <p> + There was a fair stroke of business doing, as Mistress Affery made out, + for her husband had abundant occupation in his little office, and saw more + people than had been used to come there for some years. This might easily + be, the house having been long deserted; but he did receive letters, and + comers, and keep books, and correspond. Moreover, he went about to other + counting-houses, and to wharves, and docks, and to the Custom House, and + to Garraway’s Coffee House, and the Jerusalem Coffee House, and on + ‘Change; so that he was much in and out. He began, too, sometimes of an + evening, when Mrs Clennam expressed no particular wish for his society, to + resort to a tavern in the neighbourhood to look at the shipping news and + closing prices in the evening paper, and even to exchange small + socialities with mercantile Sea Captains who frequented that + establishment. At some period of every day, he and Mrs Clennam held a + council on matters of business; and it appeared to Affery, who was always + groping about, listening and watching, that the two clever ones were + making money. + </p> + <p> + The state of mind into which Mr Flintwinch’s dazed lady had fallen, had + now begun to be so expressed in all her looks and actions that she was + held in very low account by the two clever ones, as a person, never of + strong intellect, who was becoming foolish. Perhaps because her appearance + was not of a commercial cast, or perhaps because it occurred to him that + his having taken her to wife might expose his judgment to doubt in the + minds of customers, Mr Flintwinch laid his commands upon her that she + should hold her peace on the subject of her conjugal relations, and should + no longer call him Jeremiah out of the domestic trio. Her frequent + forgetfulness of this admonition intensified her startled manner, since Mr + Flintwinch’s habit of avenging himself on her remissness by making springs + after her on the staircase, and shaking her, occasioned her to be always + nervously uncertain when she might be thus waylaid next. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit had finished a long day’s work in Mrs Clennam’s room, and + was neatly gathering up her shreds and odds and ends before going home. Mr + Pancks, whom Affery had just shown in, was addressing an inquiry to Mrs + Clennam on the subject of her health, coupled with the remark that, + ‘happening to find himself in that direction,’ he had looked in to + inquire, on behalf of his proprietor, how she found herself. Mrs Clennam, + with a deep contraction of her brows, was looking at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Casby knows,’ said she, ‘that I am not subject to changes. The change + that I await here is the great change.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, ma’am?’ returned Mr Pancks, with a wandering eye towards the + figure of the little seamstress on her knee picking threads and fraying of + her work from the carpet. ‘You look nicely, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I bear what I have to bear,’ she answered. ‘Do you what you have to do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘such is my endeavour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are often in this direction, are you not?’ asked Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, yes, ma’am,’ said Pancks, ‘rather so lately; I have lately been + round this way a good deal, owing to one thing and another.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Beg Mr Casby and his daughter not to trouble themselves, by deputy, about + me. When they wish to see me, they know I am here to see them. They have + no need to trouble themselves to send. You have no need to trouble + yourself to come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the least trouble, ma’am,’ said Mr Pancks. ‘You really are looking + uncommonly nicely, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you. Good evening.’ + </p> + <p> + The dismissal, and its accompanying finger pointed straight at the door, + was so curt and direct that Mr Pancks did not see his way to prolong his + visit. He stirred up his hair with his sprightliest expression, glanced at + the little figure again, said ‘Good evening, ma ‘am; don’t come down, Mrs + Affery, I know the road to the door,’ and steamed out. Mrs Clennam, her + chin resting on her hand, followed him with attentive and darkly + distrustful eyes; and Affery stood looking at her as if she were + spell-bound. + </p> + <p> + Slowly and thoughtfully, Mrs Clennam’s eyes turned from the door by which + Pancks had gone out, to Little Dorrit, rising from the carpet. With her + chin drooping more heavily on her hand, and her eyes vigilant and + lowering, the sick woman sat looking at her until she attracted her + attention. Little Dorrit coloured under such a gaze, and looked down. Mrs + Clennam still sat intent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Little Dorrit,’ she said, when she at last broke silence, ‘what do you + know of that man?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know anything of him, ma’am, except that I have seen him about, + and that he has spoken to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What has he said to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand what he has said, he is so strange. But nothing rough + or disagreeable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why does he come here to see you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, ma’am,’ said Little Dorrit, with perfect frankness. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know that he does come here to see you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have fancied so,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘But why he should come here or + anywhere for that, ma’am, I can’t think.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam cast her eyes towards the ground, and with her strong, set + face, as intent upon a subject in her mind as it had lately been upon the + form that seemed to pass out of her view, sat absorbed. Some minutes + elapsed before she came out of this thoughtfulness, and resumed her hard + composure. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit in the meanwhile had been waiting to go, but afraid to + disturb her by moving. She now ventured to leave the spot where she had + been standing since she had risen, and to pass gently round by the wheeled + chair. She stopped at its side to say ‘Good night, ma’am.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam put out her hand, and laid it on her arm. Little Dorrit, + confused under the touch, stood faltering. Perhaps some momentary + recollection of the story of the Princess may have been in her mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me, Little Dorrit,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘have you many friends now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very few, ma’am. Besides you, only Miss Flora and—one more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Meaning,’ said Mrs Clennam, with her unbent finger again pointing to the + door, ‘that man?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no, ma’am!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Some friend of his, perhaps?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No ma’am.’ Little Dorrit earnestly shook her head. ‘Oh no! No one at all + like him, or belonging to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Mrs Clennam, almost smiling. ‘It is no affair of mine. I ask, + because I take an interest in you; and because I believe I was your friend + when you had no other who could serve you. Is that so?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, ma’am; indeed it is. I have been here many a time when, but for you + and the work you gave me, we should have wanted everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We,’ repeated Mrs Clennam, looking towards the watch, once her dead + husband’s, which always lay upon her table. ‘Are there many of you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only father and I, now. I mean, only father and I to keep regularly out + of what we get.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you undergone many privations? You and your father and who else + there may be of you?’ asked Mrs Clennam, speaking deliberately, and + meditatively turning the watch over and over. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sometimes it has been rather hard to live,’ said Little Dorrit, in her + soft voice, and timid uncomplaining way; ‘but I think not harder—as + to that—than many people find it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s well said!’ Mrs Clennam quickly returned. ‘That’s the truth! You + are a good, thoughtful girl. You are a grateful girl too, or I much + mistake you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is only natural to be that. There is no merit in being that,’ said + Little Dorrit. ‘I am indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam, with a gentleness of which the dreaming Affery had never + dreamed her to be capable, drew down the face of her little seamstress, + and kissed her on the forehead. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now go, Little Dorrit,’ said she, ‘or you will be late, poor child!’ + </p> + <p> + In all the dreams Mistress Affery had been piling up since she first + became devoted to the pursuit, she had dreamed nothing more astonishing + than this. Her head ached with the idea that she would find the other + clever one kissing Little Dorrit next, and then the two clever ones + embracing each other and dissolving into tears of tenderness for all + mankind. The idea quite stunned her, as she attended the light footsteps + down the stairs, that the house door might be safely shut. + </p> + <p> + On opening it to let Little Dorrit out, she found Mr Pancks, instead of + having gone his way, as in any less wonderful place and among less + wonderful phenomena he might have been reasonably expected to do, + fluttering up and down the court outside the house. The moment he saw + Little Dorrit, he passed her briskly, said with his finger to his nose (as + Mrs Affery distinctly heard), ‘Pancks the gipsy, fortune-telling,’ and + went away. ‘Lord save us, here’s a gipsy and a fortune-teller in it now!’ + cried Mistress Affery. ‘What next!’ + </p> + <p> + She stood at the open door, staggering herself with this enigma, on a + rainy, thundery evening. The clouds were flying fast, and the wind was + coming up in gusts, banging some neighbouring shutters that had broken + loose, twirling the rusty chimney-cowls and weather-cocks, and rushing + round and round a confined adjacent churchyard as if it had a mind to blow + the dead citizens out of their graves. The low thunder, muttering in all + quarters of the sky at once, seemed to threaten vengeance for this + attempted desecration, and to mutter, ‘Let them rest! Let them rest!’ + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery, whose fear of thunder and lightning was only to be + equalled by her dread of the haunted house with a premature and + preternatural darkness in it, stood undecided whether to go in or not, + until the question was settled for her by the door blowing upon her in a + violent gust of wind and shutting her out. ‘What’s to be done now, what’s + to be done now!’ cried Mistress Affery, wringing her hands in this last + uneasy dream of all; ‘when she’s all alone by herself inside, and can no + more come down to open it than the churchyard dead themselves!’ + </p> + <p> + In this dilemma, Mistress Affery, with her apron as a hood to keep the + rain off, ran crying up and down the solitary paved enclosure several + times. Why she should then stoop down and look in at the keyhole of the + door as if an eye would open it, it would be difficult to say; but it is + none the less what most people would have done in the same situation, and + it is what she did. + </p> + <p> + From this posture she started up suddenly, with a half scream, feeling + something on her shoulder. It was the touch of a hand; of a man’s hand. + </p> + <p> + The man was dressed like a traveller, in a foraging cap with fur about it, + and a heap of cloak. He looked like a foreigner. He had a quantity of hair + and moustache—jet black, except at the shaggy ends, where it had a + tinge of red—and a high hook nose. He laughed at Mistress Affery’s + start and cry; and as he laughed, his moustache went up under his nose, + and his nose came down over his moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked in plain English. ‘What are you frightened + at?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At you,’ panted Affery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Me, madam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the dismal evening, and—and everything,’ said Affery. ‘And + here! The wind has been and blown the door to, and I can’t get in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ said the gentleman, who took that very coolly. ‘Indeed! Do you know + such a name as Clennam about here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord bless us, I should think I did, I should think I did!’ cried Affery, + exasperated into a new wringing of hands by the inquiry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where about here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where!’ cried Affery, goaded into another inspection of the keyhole. + ‘Where but here in this house? And she’s all alone in her room, and lost + the use of her limbs and can’t stir to help herself or me, and t’other + clever one’s out, and Lord forgive me!’ cried Affery, driven into a + frantic dance by these accumulated considerations, ‘if I ain’t a-going + headlong out of my mind!’ + </p> + <p> + Taking a warmer view of the matter now that it concerned himself, the + gentleman stepped back to glance at the house, and his eye soon rested on + the long narrow window of the little room near the hall-door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where may the lady be who has lost the use of her limbs, madam?’ he + inquired, with that peculiar smile which Mistress Affery could not choose + but keep her eyes upon. + </p> + <p> + ‘Up there!’ said Affery. ‘Them two windows.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah! I am of a fair size, but could not have the honour of presenting + myself in that room without a ladder. Now, madam, frankly—frankness + is a part of my character—shall I open the door for you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, bless you, sir, for a dear creetur, and do it at once,’ cried + Affery, ‘for she may be a-calling to me at this very present minute, or + may be setting herself a fire and burning herself to death, or there’s no + knowing what may be happening to her, and me a-going out of my mind at + thinking of it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay, my good madam!’ He restrained her impatience with a smooth white + hand. ‘Business-hours, I apprehend, are over for the day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, yes,’ cried Affery. ‘Long ago.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me make, then, a fair proposal. Fairness is a part of my character. I + am just landed from the packet-boat, as you may see.’ He showed her that + his cloak was very wet, and that his boots were saturated with water; she + had previously observed that he was dishevelled and sallow, as if from a + rough voyage, and so chilled that he could not keep his teeth from + chattering. ‘I am just landed from the packet-boat, madam, and have been + delayed by the weather: the infernal weather! In consequence of this, + madam, some necessary business that I should otherwise have transacted + here within the regular hours (necessary business because money-business), + still remains to be done. Now, if you will fetch any authorised + neighbouring somebody to do it in return for my opening the door, I’ll + open the door. If this arrangement should be objectionable, I’ll—’ + and with the same smile he made a significant feint of backing away. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery, heartily glad to effect the proposed compromise, gave in + her willing adhesion to it. The gentleman at once requested her to do him + the favour of holding his cloak, took a short run at the narrow window, + made a leap at the sill, clung his way up the bricks, and in a moment had + his hand at the sash, raising it. His eyes looked so very sinister, as he + put his leg into the room and glanced round at Mistress Affery, that she + thought with a sudden coldness, if he were to go straight up-stairs to + murder the invalid, what could she do to prevent him? + </p> + <p> + Happily he had no such purpose; for he reappeared, in a moment, at the + house door. ‘Now, my dear madam,’ he said, as he took back his cloak and + threw it on, ‘if you have the goodness to—what the Devil’s that!’ + </p> + <p> + The strangest of sounds. Evidently close at hand from the peculiar shock + it communicated to the air, yet subdued as if it were far off. A tremble, + a rumble, and a fall of some light dry matter. + </p> + <p> + ‘What the Devil is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know what it is, but I’ve heard the like of it over and over + again,’ said Affery, who had caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + He could hardly be a very brave man, even she thought in her dreamy start + and fright, for his trembling lips had turned colourless. After listening + a few moments, he made light of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bah! Nothing! Now, my dear madam, I think you spoke of some clever + personage. Will you be so good as to confront me with that genius?’ He + held the door in his hand, as though he were quite ready to shut her out + again if she failed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you say anything about the door and me, then,’ whispered Affery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a word.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And don’t you stir from here, or speak if she calls, while I run round + the corner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Madam, I am a statue.’ + </p> + <p> + Affery had so vivid a fear of his going stealthily up-stairs the moment + her back was turned, that after hurrying out of sight, she returned to the + gateway to peep at him. Seeing him still on the threshold, more out of the + house than in it, as if he had no love for darkness and no desire to probe + its mysteries, she flew into the next street, and sent a message into the + tavern to Mr Flintwinch, who came out directly. The two returning together—the + lady in advance, and Mr Flintwinch coming up briskly behind, animated with + the hope of shaking her before she could get housed—saw the + gentleman standing in the same place in the dark, and heard the strong + voice of Mrs Clennam calling from her room, ‘Who is it? What is it? Why + does no one answer? Who <i>is</i> that, down there?’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0030"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 30. The Word of a Gentleman + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Mr and Mrs Flintwinch panted up to the door of the old house in the + twilight, Jeremiah within a second of Affery, the stranger started back. + ‘Death of my soul!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why, how did you get here?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, to whom these words were spoken, repaid the stranger’s + wonder in full. He gazed at him with blank astonishment; he looked over + his own shoulder, as expecting to see some one he had not been aware of + standing behind him; he gazed at the stranger again, speechlessly, at a + loss to know what he meant; he looked to his wife for explanation; + receiving none, he pounced upon her, and shook her with such heartiness + that he shook her cap off her head, saying between his teeth, with grim + raillery, as he did it, ‘Affery, my woman, you must have a dose, my woman! + This is some of your tricks! You have been dreaming again, mistress. + What’s it about? Who is it? What does it mean! Speak out or be choked! + It’s the only choice I’ll give you.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0314m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0314m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0314.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Supposing Mistress Affery to have any power of election at the moment, her + choice was decidedly to be choked; for she answered not a syllable to this + adjuration, but, with her bare head wagging violently backwards and + forwards, resigned herself to her punishment. The stranger, however, + picking up her cap with an air of gallantry, interposed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Permit me,’ said he, laying his hand on the shoulder of Jeremiah, who + stopped and released his victim. ‘Thank you. Excuse me. Husband and wife I + know, from this playfulness. Haha! Always agreeable to see that relation + playfully maintained. Listen! May I suggest that somebody up-stairs, in + the dark, is becoming energetically curious to know what is going on + here?’ + </p> + <p> + This reference to Mrs Clennam’s voice reminded Mr Flintwinch to step into + the hall and call up the staircase. ‘It’s all right, I am here, Affery is + coming with your light.’ Then he said to the latter flustered woman, who + was putting her cap on, ‘Get out with you, and get up-stairs!’ and then + turned to the stranger and said to him, ‘Now, sir, what might you please + to want?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid,’ said the stranger, ‘I must be so troublesome as to propose + a candle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True,’ assented Jeremiah. ‘I was going to do so. Please to stand where + you are while I get one.’ + </p> + <p> + The visitor was standing in the doorway, but turned a little into the + gloom of the house as Mr Flintwinch turned, and pursued him with his eyes + into the little room, where he groped about for a phosphorus box. When he + found it, it was damp, or otherwise out of order; and match after match + that he struck into it lighted sufficiently to throw a dull glare about + his groping face, and to sprinkle his hands with pale little spots of + fire, but not sufficiently to light the candle. The stranger, taking + advantage of this fitful illumination of his visage, looked intently and + wonderingly at him. Jeremiah, when he at last lighted the candle, knew he + had been doing this, by seeing the last shade of a lowering watchfulness + clear away from his face, as it broke into the doubtful smile that was a + large ingredient in its expression. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be so good,’ said Jeremiah, closing the house door, and taking a pretty + sharp survey of the smiling visitor in his turn, ‘as to step into my + counting-house.—It’s all right, I tell you!’ petulantly breaking off + to answer the voice up-stairs, still unsatisfied, though Affery was there, + speaking in persuasive tones. ‘Don’t I tell you it’s all right? Preserve + the woman, has she no reason at all in her!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Timorous,’ remarked the stranger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Timorous?’ said Mr Flintwinch, turning his head to retort, as he went + before with the candle. ‘More courageous than ninety men in a hundred, + sir, let me tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Though an invalid?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Many years an invalid. Mrs Clennam. The only one of that name left in the + House now. My partner.’ + </p> + <p> + Saying something apologetically as he crossed the hall, to the effect that + at that time of night they were not in the habit of receiving any one, and + were always shut up, Mr Flintwinch led the way into his own office, which + presented a sufficiently business-like appearance. Here he put the light + on his desk, and said to the stranger, with his wryest twist upon him, + ‘Your commands.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My name is Blandois.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Blandois. I don’t know it,’ said Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought it possible,’ resumed the other, ‘that you might have been + advised from Paris—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We have had no advice from Paris respecting anybody of the name of + Blandois,’ said Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + ‘No?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeremiah stood in his favourite attitude. The smiling Mr Blandois, opening + his cloak to get his hand to a breast-pocket, paused to say, with a laugh + in his glittering eyes, which it occurred to Mr Flintwinch were too near + together: + </p> + <p> + ‘You are so like a friend of mine! Not so identically the same as I + supposed when I really did for the moment take you to be the same in the + dusk—for which I ought to apologise; permit me to do so; a readiness + to confess my errors is, I hope, a part of the frankness of my character—still, + however, uncommonly like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ said Jeremiah, perversely. ‘But I have not received any letter + of advice from anywhere respecting anybody of the name of Blandois.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so,’ said the stranger. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Just</i> so,’ said Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois, not at all put out by this omission on the part of the + correspondents of the house of Clennam and Co., took his pocket-book from + his breast-pocket, selected a letter from that receptacle, and handed it + to Mr Flintwinch. ‘No doubt you are well acquainted with the writing. + Perhaps the letter speaks for itself, and requires no advice. You are a + far more competent judge of such affairs than I am. It is my misfortune to + be, not so much a man of business, as what the world calls (arbitrarily) a + gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch took the letter, and read, under date of Paris, ‘We have to + present to you, on behalf of a highly esteemed correspondent of our Firm, + M. Blandois, of this city,’ &c. &c. ‘Such facilities as he may + require and such attentions as may lie in your power,’ &c. &c. + ‘Also have to add that if you will honour M. Blandois’ drafts at sight to + the extent of, say Fifty Pounds sterling (50<i>l</i>.),’ &c. &c. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very good, sir,’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Take a chair. To the extent of + anything that our House can do—we are in a retired, old-fashioned, + steady way of business, sir—we shall be happy to render you our best + assistance. I observe, from the date of this, that we could not yet be + advised of it. Probably you came over with the delayed mail that brings + the advice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That I came over with the delayed mail, sir,’ returned Mr Blandois, + passing his white hand down his high-hooked nose, ‘I know to the cost of + my head and stomach: the detestable and intolerable weather having racked + them both. You see me in the plight in which I came out of the packet + within this half-hour. I ought to have been here hours ago, and then I + should not have to apologise—permit me to apologise—for + presenting myself so unreasonably, and frightening—no, by-the-bye, + you said not frightening; permit me to apologise again—the esteemed + lady, Mrs Clennam, in her invalid chamber above stairs.’ + </p> + <p> + Swagger and an air of authorised condescension do so much, that Mr + Flintwinch had already begun to think this a highly gentlemanly personage. + Not the less unyielding with him on that account, he scraped his chin and + said, what could he have the honour of doing for Mr Blandois to-night, out + of business hours? + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith!’ returned that gentleman, shrugging his cloaked shoulders, ‘I must + change, and eat and drink, and be lodged somewhere. Have the kindness to + advise me, a total stranger, where, and money is a matter of perfect + indifference until to-morrow. The nearer the place, the better. Next door, + if that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch was slowly beginning, ‘For a gentleman of your habits, there + is not in this immediate neighbourhood any hotel—’ when Mr Blandois + took him up. + </p> + <p> + ‘So much for my habits! my dear sir,’ snapping his fingers. ‘A citizen of + the world has no habits. That I am, in my poor way, a gentleman, by + Heaven! I will not deny, but I have no unaccommodating prejudiced habits. + A clean room, a hot dish for dinner, and a bottle of not absolutely + poisonous wine, are all I want tonight. But I want that much without the + trouble of going one unnecessary inch to get it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is,’ said Mr Flintwinch, with more than his usual deliberation, as + he met, for a moment, Mr Blandois’ shining eyes, which were restless; + ‘there is a coffee-house and tavern close here, which, so far, I can + recommend; but there’s no style about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I dispense with style!’ said Mr Blandois, waving his hand. ‘Do me the + honour to show me the house, and introduce me there (if I am not too + troublesome), and I shall be infinitely obliged.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, upon this, looked up his hat, and lighted Mr Blandois + across the hall again. As he put the candle on a bracket, where the dark + old panelling almost served as an extinguisher for it, he bethought + himself of going up to tell the invalid that he would not be absent five + minutes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oblige me,’ said the visitor, on his saying so, ‘by presenting my card of + visit. Do me the favour to add that I shall be happy to wait on Mrs + Clennam, to offer my personal compliments, and to apologise for having + occasioned any agitation in this tranquil corner, if it should suit her + convenience to endure the presence of a stranger for a few minutes, after + he shall have changed his wet clothes and fortified himself with something + to eat and drink.’ + </p> + <p> + Jeremiah made all despatch, and said, on his return, ‘She’ll be glad to + see you, sir; but, being conscious that her sick room has no attractions, + wishes me to say that she won’t hold you to your offer, in case you should + think better of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To think better of it,’ returned the gallant Blandois, ‘would be to + slight a lady; to slight a lady would be to be deficient in chivalry + towards the sex; and chivalry towards the sex is a part of my character!’ + Thus expressing himself, he threw the draggled skirt of his cloak over his + shoulder, and accompanied Mr Flintwinch to the tavern; taking up on the + road a porter who was waiting with his portmanteau on the outer side of + the gateway. + </p> + <p> + The house was kept in a homely manner, and the condescension of Mr + Blandois was infinite. It seemed to fill to inconvenience the little bar + in which the widow landlady and her two daughters received him; it was + much too big for the narrow wainscoted room with a bagatelle-board in it, + that was first proposed for his reception; it perfectly swamped the little + private holiday sitting-room of the family, which was finally given up to + him. Here, in dry clothes and scented linen, with sleeked hair, a great + ring on each forefinger and a massive show of watch-chain, Mr Blandois + waiting for his dinner, lolling on a window-seat with his knees drawn up, + looked (for all the difference in the setting of the jewel) fearfully and + wonderfully like a certain Monsieur Rigaud who had once so waited for his + breakfast, lying on the stone ledge of the iron grating of a cell in a + villainous dungeon at Marseilles. + </p> + <p> + His greed at dinner, too, was closely in keeping with the greed of + Monsieur Rigaud at breakfast. His avaricious manner of collecting all the + eatables about him, and devouring some with his eyes while devouring + others with his jaws, was the same manner. His utter disregard of other + people, as shown in his way of tossing the little womanly toys of + furniture about, flinging favourite cushions under his boots for a softer + rest, and crushing delicate coverings with his big body and his great + black head, had the same brute selfishness at the bottom of it. The softly + moving hands that were so busy among the dishes had the old wicked + facility of the hands that had clung to the bars. And when he could eat no + more, and sat sucking his delicate fingers one by one and wiping them on a + cloth, there wanted nothing but the substitution of vine-leaves to finish + the picture. + </p> + <p> + On this man, with his moustache going up and his nose coming down in that + most evil of smiles, and with his surface eyes looking as if they belonged + to his dyed hair, and had had their natural power of reflecting light + stopped by some similar process, Nature, always true, and never working in + vain, had set the mark, Beware! It was not her fault, if the warning were + fruitless. She is never to blame in any such instance. + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois, having finished his repast and cleaned his fingers, took a + cigar from his pocket, and, lying on the window-seat again, smoked it out + at his leisure, occasionally apostrophising the smoke as it parted from + his thin lips in a thin stream: + </p> + <p> + ‘Blandois, you shall turn the tables on society, my little child. Haha! + Holy blue, you have begun well, Blandois! At a pinch, an excellent master + in English or French; a man for the bosom of families! You have a quick + perception, you have humour, you have ease, you have insinuating manners, + you have a good appearance; in effect, you are a gentleman! A gentleman + you shall live, my small boy, and a gentleman you shall die. You shall + win, however the game goes. They shall all confess your merit, Blandois. + You shall subdue the society which has grievously wronged you, to your own + high spirit. Death of my soul! You are high spirited by right and by + nature, my Blandois!’ + </p> + <p> + To such soothing murmurs did this gentleman smoke out his cigar and drink + out his bottle of wine. Both being finished, he shook himself into a + sitting attitude; and with the concluding serious apostrophe, ‘Hold, then! + Blandois, you ingenious one, have all your wits about you!’ arose and went + back to the house of Clennam and Co. + </p> + <p> + He was received at the door by Mistress Affery, who, under instructions + from her lord, had lighted up two candles in the hall and a third on the + staircase, and who conducted him to Mrs Clennam’s room. Tea was prepared + there, and such little company arrangements had been made as usually + attended the reception of expected visitors. They were slight on the + greatest occasion, never extending beyond the production of the China + tea-service, and the covering of the bed with a sober and sad drapery. For + the rest, there was the bier-like sofa with the block upon it, and the + figure in the widow’s dress, as if attired for execution; the fire topped + by the mound of damped ashes; the grate with its second little mound of + ashes; the kettle and the smell of black dye; all as they had been for + fifteen years. + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch presented the gentleman commended to the consideration of + Clennam and Co. Mrs Clennam, who had the letter lying before her, bent her + head and requested him to sit. They looked very closely at one another. + That was but natural curiosity. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thank you, sir, for thinking of a disabled woman like me. Few who come + here on business have any remembrance to bestow on one so removed from + observation. It would be idle to expect that they should have. Out of + sight, out of mind. While I am grateful for the exception, I don’t + complain of the rule.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois, in his most gentlemanly manner, was afraid he had disturbed + her by unhappily presenting himself at such an unconscionable time. For + which he had already offered his best apologies to Mr—he begged + pardon—but by name had not the distinguished honour— + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Flintwinch has been connected with the House many years.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois was Mr Flintwinch’s most obedient humble servant. He entreated + Mr Flintwinch to receive the assurance of his profoundest consideration. + </p> + <p> + ‘My husband being dead,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘and my son preferring another + pursuit, our old House has no other representative in these days than Mr + Flintwinch.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you call yourself?’ was the surly demand of that gentleman. ‘You + have the head of two men.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My sex disqualifies me,’ she proceeded with merely a slight turn of her + eyes in Jeremiah’s direction, ‘from taking a responsible part in the + business, even if I had the ability; and therefore Mr Flintwinch combines + my interest with his own, and conducts it. It is not what it used to be; + but some of our old friends (principally the writers of this letter) have + the kindness not to forget us, and we retain the power of doing what they + entrust to us as efficiently as we ever did. This however is not + interesting to you. You are English, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith, madam, no; I am neither born nor bred in England. In effect, I am + of no country,’ said Mr Blandois, stretching out his leg and smiting it: + ‘I descend from half-a-dozen countries.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been much about the world?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is true. By Heaven, madam, I have been here and there and everywhere!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have no ties, probably. Are not married?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Madam,’ said Mr Blandois, with an ugly fall of his eyebrows, ‘I adore + your sex, but I am not married—never was.’ + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery, who stood at the table near him, pouring out the tea, + happened in her dreamy state to look at him as he said these words, and to + fancy that she caught an expression in his eyes which attracted her own + eyes so that she could not get them away. The effect of this fancy was to + keep her staring at him with the tea-pot in her hand, not only to her own + great uneasiness, but manifestly to his, too; and, through them both, to + Mrs Clennam’s and Mr Flintwinch’s. Thus a few ghostly moments supervened, + when they were all confusedly staring without knowing why. + </p> + <p> + ‘Affery,’ her mistress was the first to say, ‘what is the matter with + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Mistress Affery, with her disengaged left hand + extended towards the visitor. ‘It ain’t me. It’s him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What does this good woman mean?’ cried Mr Blandois, turning white, hot, + and slowly rising with a look of such deadly wrath that it contrasted + surprisingly with the slight force of his words. ‘How is it possible to + understand this good creature?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s <i>not</i> possible,’ said Mr Flintwinch, screwing himself rapidly + in that direction. ‘She don’t know what she means. She’s an idiot, a + wanderer in her mind. She shall have a dose, she shall have such a dose! + Get along with you, my woman,’ he added in her ear, ‘get along with you, + while you know you’re Affery, and before you’re shaken to yeast.’ + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery, sensible of the danger in which her identity stood, + relinquished the tea-pot as her husband seized it, put her apron over her + head, and in a twinkling vanished. The visitor gradually broke into a + smile, and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll excuse her, Mr Blandois,’ said Jeremiah, pouring out the tea + himself, ‘she’s failing and breaking up; that’s what she’s about. Do you + take sugar, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, no tea for me.—Pardon my observing it, but that’s a very + remarkable watch!’ + </p> + <p> + The tea-table was drawn up near the sofa, with a small interval between it + and Mrs Clennam’s own particular table. Mr Blandois in his gallantry had + risen to hand that lady her tea (her dish of toast was already there), and + it was in placing the cup conveniently within her reach that the watch, + lying before her as it always did, attracted his attention. Mrs Clennam + looked suddenly up at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I be permitted? Thank you. A fine old-fashioned watch,’ he said, + taking it in his hand. ‘Heavy for use, but massive and genuine. I have a + partiality for everything genuine. Such as I am, I am genuine myself. Hah! + A gentleman’s watch with two cases in the old fashion. May I remove it + from the outer case? Thank you. Aye? An old silk watch-lining, worked with + beads! I have often seen these among old Dutch people and Belgians. Quaint + things!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are old-fashioned, too,’ said Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very. But this is not so old as the watch, I think?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Extraordinary how they used to complicate these cyphers!’ remarked Mr + Blandois, glancing up with his own smile again. ‘Now is this D. N. F.? It + might be almost anything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Those are the letters.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, who had been observantly pausing all this time with a cup + of tea in his hand, and his mouth open ready to swallow the contents, + began to do so: always entirely filling his mouth before he emptied it at + a gulp; and always deliberating again before he refilled it. + </p> + <p> + ‘D. N. F. was some tender, lovely, fascinating fair-creature, I make no + doubt,’ observed Mr Blandois, as he snapped on the case again. ‘I adore + her memory on the assumption. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, I adore + but too readily. It may be a vice, it may be a virtue, but adoration of + female beauty and merit constitutes three parts of my character, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch had by this time poured himself out another cup of tea, + which he was swallowing in gulps as before, with his eyes directed to the + invalid. + </p> + <p> + ‘You may be heart-free here, sir,’ she returned to Mr Blandois. ‘Those + letters are not intended, I believe, for the initials of any name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of a motto, perhaps,’ said Mr Blandois, casually. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of a sentence. They have always stood, I believe, for Do Not Forget!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And naturally,’ said Mr Blandois, replacing the watch and stepping + backward to his former chair, ‘you do <i>not</i> forget.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, finishing his tea, not only took a longer gulp than he had + taken yet, but made his succeeding pause under new circumstances: that is + to say, with his head thrown back and his cup held still at his lips, + while his eyes were still directed at the invalid. She had that force of + face, and that concentrated air of collecting her firmness or obstinacy, + which represented in her case what would have been gesture and action in + another, as she replied with her deliberate strength of speech: + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, I do not forget. To lead a life as monotonous as mine has been + during many years, is not the way to forget. To lead a life of + self-correction is not the way to forget. To be sensible of having (as we + all have, every one of us, all the children of Adam!) offences to expiate + and peace to make, does not justify the desire to forget. Therefore I have + long dismissed it, and I neither forget nor wish to forget.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, who had latterly been shaking the sediment at the bottom of + his tea-cup, round and round, here gulped it down, and putting the cup in + the tea-tray, as done with, turned his eyes upon Mr Blandois as if to ask + him what he thought of that? + </p> + <p> + ‘All expressed, madam,’ said Mr Blandois, with his smoothest bow and his + white hand on his breast, ‘by the word “naturally,” which I am proud to + have had sufficient apprehension and appreciation (but without + appreciation I could not be Blandois) to employ.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me, sir,’ she returned, ‘if I doubt the likelihood of a gentleman + of pleasure, and change, and politeness, accustomed to court and to be + courted—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh madam! By Heaven!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘—If I doubt the likelihood of such a character quite comprehending + what belongs to mine in my circumstances. Not to obtrude doctrine upon + you,’ she looked at the rigid pile of hard pale books before her, ‘(for + you go your own way, and the consequences are on your own head), I will + say this much: that I shape my course by pilots, strictly by proved and + tried pilots, under whom I cannot be shipwrecked—can not be—and + that if I were unmindful of the admonition conveyed in those three + letters, I should not be half as chastened as I am.’ + </p> + <p> + It was curious how she seized the occasion to argue with some invisible + opponent. Perhaps with her own better sense, always turning upon herself + and her own deception. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I forgot my ignorances in my life of health and freedom, I might + complain of the life to which I am now condemned. I never do; I never have + done. If I forgot that this scene, the Earth, is expressly meant to be a + scene of gloom, and hardship, and dark trial, for the creatures who are + made out of its dust, I might have some tenderness for its vanities. But I + have no such tenderness. If I did not know that we are, every one, the + subject (most justly the subject) of a wrath that must be satisfied, and + against which mere actions are nothing, I might repine at the difference + between me, imprisoned here, and the people who pass that gateway yonder. + But I take it as a grace and favour to be elected to make the satisfaction + I am making here, to know what I know for certain here, and to work out + what I have worked out here. My affliction might otherwise have had no + meaning to me. Hence I would forget, and I do forget, nothing. Hence I am + contented, and say it is better with me than with millions.’ + </p> + <p> + As she spoke these words, she put her hand upon the watch, and restored it + to the precise spot on her little table which it always occupied. With her + touch lingering upon it, she sat for some moments afterwards, looking at + it steadily and half-defiantly. + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois, during this exposition, had been strictly attentive, keeping + his eyes fastened on the lady, and thoughtfully stroking his moustache + with his two hands. Mr Flintwinch had been a little fidgety, and now + struck in. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, there, there!’ said he. ‘That is quite understood, Mrs Clennam, + and you have spoken piously and well. Mr Blandois, I suspect, is not of a + pious cast.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, sir!’ that gentleman protested, snapping his fingers. + ‘Your pardon! It’s a part of my character. I am sensitive, ardent, + conscientious, and imaginative. A sensitive, ardent, conscientious, and + imaginative man, Mr Flintwinch, must be that, or nothing!’ + </p> + <p> + There was an inkling of suspicion in Mr Flintwinch’s face that he might be + nothing, as he swaggered out of his chair (it was characteristic of this + man, as it is of all men similarly marked, that whatever he did, he + overdid, though it were sometimes by only a hairsbreadth), and approached + to take his leave of Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘With what will appear to you the egotism of a sick old woman, sir,’ she + then said, ‘though really through your accidental allusion, I have been + led away into the subject of myself and my infirmities. Being so + considerate as to visit me, I hope you will be likewise so considerate as + to overlook that. Don’t compliment me, if you please.’ For he was + evidently going to do it. ‘Mr Flintwinch will be happy to render you any + service, and I hope your stay in this city may prove agreeable.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois thanked her, and kissed his hand several times. ‘This is an + old room,’ he remarked, with a sudden sprightliness of manner, looking + round when he got near the door, ‘I have been so interested that I have + not observed it. But it’s a genuine old room.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a genuine old house,’ said Mrs Clennam, with her frozen smile. ‘A + place of no pretensions, but a piece of antiquity.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith!’ cried the visitor. ‘If Mr Flintwinch would do me the favour to + take me through the rooms on my way out, he could hardly oblige me more. + An old house is a weakness with me. I have many weaknesses, but none + greater. I love and study the picturesque in all its varieties. I have + been called picturesque myself. It is no merit to be picturesque—I + have greater merits, perhaps—but I may be, by an accident. Sympathy, + sympathy!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you beforehand, Mr Blandois, that you’ll find it very dingy and + very bare,’ said Jeremiah, taking up the candle. ‘It’s not worth your + looking at.‘But Mr Blandois, smiting him in a friendly manner on the back, + only laughed; so the said Blandois kissed his hand again to Mrs Clennam, + and they went out of the room together. + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t care to go up-stairs?’ said Jeremiah, on the landing. + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, Mr Flintwinch; if not tiresome to you, I shall be + ravished!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, therefore, wormed himself up the staircase, and Mr Blandois + followed close. They ascended to the great garret bed-room which Arthur + had occupied on the night of his return. ‘There, Mr Blandois!’ said + Jeremiah, showing it, ‘I hope you may think that worth coming so high to + see. I confess I don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois being enraptured, they walked through other garrets and + passages, and came down the staircase again. By this time Mr Flintwinch + had remarked that he never found the visitor looking at any room, after + throwing one quick glance around, but always found the visitor looking at + him, Mr Flintwinch. With this discovery in his thoughts, he turned about + on the staircase for another experiment. He met his eyes directly; and on + the instant of their fixing one another, the visitor, with that ugly play + of nose and moustache, laughed (as he had done at every similar moment + since they left Mrs Clennam’s chamber) a diabolically silent laugh. + </p> + <p> + As a much shorter man than the visitor, Mr Flintwinch was at the physical + disadvantage of being thus disagreeably leered at from a height; and as he + went first down the staircase, and was usually a step or two lower than + the other, this disadvantage was at the time increased. He postponed + looking at Mr Blandois again until this accidental inequality was removed + by their having entered the late Mr Clennam’s room. But, then twisting + himself suddenly round upon him, he found his look unchanged. + </p> + <p> + ‘A most admirable old house,’ smiled Mr Blandois. ‘So mysterious. Do you + never hear any haunted noises here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Noises,’ returned Mr Flintwinch. ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor see any devils?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not,’ said Mr Flintwinch, grimly screwing himself at his questioner, ‘not + any that introduce themselves under that name and in that capacity.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Haha! A portrait here, I see.’ + </p> + <p> + (Still looking at Mr Flintwinch, as if he were the portrait.) + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a portrait, sir, as you observe.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask the subject, Mr Flintwinch?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, deceased. Her husband.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Former owner of the remarkable watch, perhaps?’ said the visitor. + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, who had cast his eyes towards the portrait, twisted himself + about again, and again found himself the subject of the same look and + smile. ‘Yes, Mr Blandois,’ he replied tartly. ‘It was his, and his uncle’s + before him, and Lord knows who before him; and that’s all I can tell you + of its pedigree.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a strongly marked character, Mr Flintwinch, our friend up-stairs.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ said Jeremiah, twisting himself at the visitor again, as he + did during the whole of this dialogue, like some screw-machine that fell + short of its grip; for the other never changed, and he always felt obliged + to retreat a little. ‘She is a remarkable woman. Great fortitude—great + strength of mind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They must have been very happy,’ said Blandois. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who?’ demanded Mr Flintwinch, with another screw at him. + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois shook his right forefinger towards the sick room, and his left + forefinger towards the portrait, and then, putting his arms akimbo and + striding his legs wide apart, stood smiling down at Mr Flintwinch with the + advancing nose and the retreating moustache. + </p> + <p> + ‘As happy as most other married people, I suppose,’ returned Mr + Flintwinch. ‘I can’t say. I don’t know. There are secrets in all + families.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Secrets!’ cried Mr Blandois, quickly. ‘Say it again, my son.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ replied Mr Flintwinch, upon whom he had swelled himself so + suddenly that Mr Flintwinch found his face almost brushed by the dilated + chest. ‘I say there are secrets in all families.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So there are,’ cried the other, clapping him on both shoulders, and + rolling him backwards and forwards. ‘Haha! you are right. So there are! + Secrets! Holy Blue! There are the devil’s own secrets in some families, Mr + Flintwinch!’ With that, after clapping Mr Flintwinch on both shoulders + several times, as if in a friendly and humorous way he were rallying him + on a joke he had made, he threw up his arms, threw back his head, hooked + his hands together behind it, and burst into a roar of laughter. It was in + vain for Mr Flintwinch to try another screw at him. He had his laugh out. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, favour me with the candle a moment,’ he said, when he had done. ‘Let + us have a look at the husband of the remarkable lady. Hah!’ holding up the + light at arm’s length. ‘A decided expression of face here too, though not + of the same character. Looks as if he were saying, what is it—Do Not + Forget—does he not, Mr Flintwinch? By Heaven, sir, he does!’ + </p> + <p> + As he returned the candle, he looked at him once more; and then, leisurely + strolling out with him into the hall, declared it to be a charming old + house indeed, and one which had so greatly pleased him that he would not + have missed inspecting it for a hundred pounds. + </p> + <p> + Throughout these singular freedoms on the part of Mr Blandois, which + involved a general alteration in his demeanour, making it much coarser and + rougher, much more violent and audacious than before, Mr Flintwinch, whose + leathern face was not liable to many changes, preserved its immobility + intact. Beyond now appearing perhaps, to have been left hanging a trifle + too long before that friendly operation of cutting down, he outwardly + maintained an equable composure. They had brought their survey to a close + in the little room at the side of the hall, and he stood there, eyeing Mr + Blandois. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad you are so well satisfied, sir,’ was his calm remark. ‘I didn’t + expect it. You seem to be quite in good spirits.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In admirable spirits,’ returned Blandois. ‘Word of honour! never more + refreshed in spirits. Do you ever have presentiments, Mr Flintwinch?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not sure that I know what you mean by the term, sir,’ replied that + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Say, in this case, Mr Flintwinch, undefined anticipations of pleasure to + come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t say I’m sensible of such a sensation at present,’ returned Mr + Flintwinch with the utmost gravity. ‘If I should find it coming on, I’ll + mention it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I,’ said Blandois, ‘I, my son, have a presentiment to-night that we + shall be well acquainted. Do you find it coming on?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘N-no,’ returned Mr Flintwinch, deliberately inquiring of himself. ‘I + can’t say I do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have a strong presentiment that we shall become intimately acquainted.—You + have no feeling of that sort yet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not yet,’ said Mr Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + Mr Blandois, taking him by both shoulders again, rolled him about a little + in his former merry way, then drew his arm through his own, and invited + him to come off and drink a bottle of wine like a dear deep old dog as he + was. + </p> + <p> + Without a moment’s indecision, Mr Flintwinch accepted the invitation, and + they went out to the quarters where the traveller was lodged, through a + heavy rain which had rattled on the windows, roofs, and pavements, ever + since nightfall. The thunder and lightning had long ago passed over, but + the rain was furious. On their arrival at Mr Blandois’ room, a bottle of + port wine was ordered by that gallant gentleman; who (crushing every + pretty thing he could collect, in the soft disposition of his dainty + figure) coiled himself upon the window-seat, while Mr Flintwinch took a + chair opposite to him, with the table between them. Mr Blandois proposed + having the largest glasses in the house, to which Mr Flintwinch assented. + The bumpers filled, Mr Blandois, with a roystering gaiety, clinked the top + of his glass against the bottom of Mr Flintwinch’s, and the bottom of his + glass against the top of Mr Flintwinch’s, and drank to the intimate + acquaintance he foresaw. Mr Flintwinch gravely pledged him, and drank all + the wine he could get, and said nothing. As often as Mr Blandois clinked + glasses (which was at every replenishment), Mr Flintwinch stolidly did his + part of the clinking, and would have stolidly done his companion’s part of + the wine as well as his own: being, except in the article of palate, a + mere cask. + </p> + <p> + In short, Mr Blandois found that to pour port wine into the reticent + Flintwinch was, not to open him but to shut him up. Moreover, he had the + appearance of a perfect ability to go on all night; or, if occasion were, + all next day and all next night; whereas Mr Blandois soon grew + indistinctly conscious of swaggering too fiercely and boastfully. He + therefore terminated the entertainment at the end of the third bottle. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will draw upon us to-morrow, sir,’ said Mr Flintwinch, with a + business-like face at parting. + </p> + <p> + ‘My Cabbage,’ returned the other, taking him by the collar with both + hands, ‘I’ll draw upon you; have no fear. Adieu, my Flintwinch. Receive at + parting;’ here he gave him a southern embrace, and kissed him soundly on + both cheeks; ‘the word of a gentleman! By a thousand Thunders, you shall + see me again!’ + </p> + <p> + He did not present himself next day, though the letter of advice came duly + to hand. Inquiring after him at night, Mr Flintwinch found, with surprise, + that he had paid his bill and gone back to the Continent by way of Calais. + Nevertheless, Jeremiah scraped out of his cogitating face a lively + conviction that Mr Blandois would keep his word on this occasion, and + would be seen again. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0031"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 31. Spirit + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nybody may pass, any day, in the thronged thoroughfares of the + metropolis, some meagre, wrinkled, yellow old man (who might be supposed + to have dropped from the stars, if there were any star in the Heavens dull + enough to be suspected of casting off so feeble a spark), creeping along + with a scared air, as though bewildered and a little frightened by the + noise and bustle. This old man is always a little old man. If he were ever + a big old man, he has shrunk into a little old man; if he were always a + little old man, he has dwindled into a less old man. His coat is a colour, + and cut, that never was the mode anywhere, at any period. Clearly, it was + not made for him, or for any individual mortal. Some wholesale contractor + measured Fate for five thousand coats of such quality, and Fate has lent + this old coat to this old man, as one of a long unfinished line of many + old men. It has always large dull metal buttons, similar to no other + buttons. This old man wears a hat, a thumbed and napless and yet an + obdurate hat, which has never adapted itself to the shape of his poor + head. His coarse shirt and his coarse neckcloth have no more individuality + than his coat and hat; they have the same character of not being his—of + not being anybody’s. Yet this old man wears these clothes with a certain + unaccustomed air of being dressed and elaborated for the public ways; as + though he passed the greater part of his time in a nightcap and gown. And + so, like the country mouse in the second year of a famine, come to see the + town mouse, and timidly threading his way to the town-mouse’s lodging + through a city of cats, this old man passes in the streets. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, on holidays towards evening, he will be seen to walk with a + slightly increased infirmity, and his old eyes will glimmer with a moist + and marshy light. Then the little old man is drunk. A very small measure + will overset him; he may be bowled off his unsteady legs with a half-pint + pot. Some pitying acquaintance—chance acquaintance very often—has + warmed up his weakness with a treat of beer, and the consequence will be + the lapse of a longer time than usual before he shall pass again. For the + little old man is going home to the Workhouse; and on his good behaviour + they do not let him out often (though methinks they might, considering the + few years he has before him to go out in, under the sun); and on his bad + behaviour they shut him up closer than ever in a grove of two score and + nineteen more old men, every one of whom smells of all the others. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Plornish’s father,—a poor little reedy piping old gentleman, + like a worn-out bird; who had been in what he called the music-binding + business, and met with great misfortunes, and who had seldom been able to + make his way, or to see it or to pay it, or to do anything at all with it + but find it no thoroughfare,—had retired of his own accord to the + Workhouse which was appointed by law to be the Good Samaritan of his + district (without the twopence, which was bad political economy), on the + settlement of that execution which had carried Mr Plornish to the + Marshalsea College. Previous to his son-in-law’s difficulties coming to + that head, Old Nandy (he was always so called in his legal Retreat, but he + was Old Mr Nandy among the Bleeding Hearts) had sat in a corner of the + Plornish fireside, and taken his bite and sup out of the Plornish + cupboard. He still hoped to resume that domestic position when Fortune + should smile upon his son-in-law; in the meantime, while she preserved an + immovable countenance, he was, and resolved to remain, one of these little + old men in a grove of little old men with a community of flavour. + </p> + <p> + But no poverty in him, and no coat on him that never was the mode, and no + Old Men’s Ward for his dwelling-place, could quench his daughter’s + admiration. Mrs Plornish was as proud of her father’s talents as she could + possibly have been if they had made him Lord Chancellor. She had as firm a + belief in the sweetness and propriety of his manners as she could possibly + have had if he had been Lord Chamberlain. The poor little old man knew + some pale and vapid little songs, long out of date, about Chloe, and + Phyllis, and Strephon being wounded by the son of Venus; and for Mrs + Plornish there was no such music at the Opera as the small internal + flutterings and chirpings wherein he would discharge himself of these + ditties, like a weak, little, broken barrel-organ, ground by a baby. On + his ‘days out,’ those flecks of light in his flat vista of pollard old + men,’ it was at once Mrs Plornish’s delight and sorrow, when he was strong + with meat, and had taken his full halfpenny-worth of porter, to say, ‘Sing + us a song, Father.’ Then he would give them Chloe, and if he were in + pretty good spirits, Phyllis also—Strephon he had hardly been up to + since he went into retirement—and then would Mrs Plornish declare + she did believe there never was such a singer as Father, and wipe her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + If he had come from Court on these occasions, nay, if he had been the + noble Refrigerator come home triumphantly from a foreign court to be + presented and promoted on his last tremendous failure, Mrs Plornish could + not have handed him with greater elevation about Bleeding Heart Yard. + ‘Here’s Father,’ she would say, presenting him to a neighbour. ‘Father + will soon be home with us for good, now. Ain’t Father looking well? + Father’s a sweeter singer than ever; you’d never have forgotten it, if + you’d aheard him just now.’ As to Mr Plornish, he had married these + articles of belief in marrying Mr Nandy’s daughter, and only wondered how + it was that so gifted an old gentleman had not made a fortune. This he + attributed, after much reflection, to his musical genius not having been + scientifically developed in his youth. ‘For why,’ argued Mr Plornish, ‘why + go a-binding music when you’ve got it in yourself? That’s where it is, I + consider.’ + </p> + <p> + Old Nandy had a patron: one patron. He had a patron who in a certain + sumptuous way—an apologetic way, as if he constantly took an + admiring audience to witness that he really could not help being more free + with this old fellow than they might have expected, on account of his + simplicity and poverty—was mightily good to him. Old Nandy had been + several times to the Marshalsea College, communicating with his son-in-law + during his short durance there; and had happily acquired to himself, and + had by degrees and in course of time much improved, the patronage of the + Father of that national institution. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was in the habit of receiving this old man as if the old man + held of him in vassalage under some feudal tenure. He made little treats + and teas for him, as if he came in with his homage from some outlying + district where the tenantry were in a primitive state. It seemed as if + there were moments when he could by no means have sworn but that the old + man was an ancient retainer of his, who had been meritoriously faithful. + When he mentioned him, he spoke of him casually as his old pensioner. He + had a wonderful satisfaction in seeing him, and in commenting on his + decayed condition after he was gone. It appeared to him amazing that he + could hold up his head at all, poor creature. ‘In the Workhouse, sir, the + Union; no privacy, no visitors, no station, no respect, no speciality. + Most deplorable!’ + </p> + <p> + It was Old Nandy’s birthday, and they let him out. He said nothing about + its being his birthday, or they might have kept him in; for such old men + should not be born. He passed along the streets as usual to Bleeding Heart + Yard, and had his dinner with his daughter and son-in-law, and gave them + Phyllis. He had hardly concluded, when Little Dorrit looked in to see how + they all were. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Dorrit,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘here’s Father! Ain’t he looking nice? + And such voice he’s in!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit gave him her hand, and smilingly said she had not seen him + this long time. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, they’re rather hard on poor Father,’ said Mrs Plornish with a + lengthening face, ‘and don’t let him have half as much change and fresh + air as would benefit him. But he’ll soon be home for good, now. Won’t you, + Father?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, my dear, I hope so. In good time, please God.’ + </p> + <p> + Here Mr Plornish delivered himself of an oration which he invariably made, + word for word the same, on all such opportunities. It was couched in the + following terms: + </p> + <p> + ‘John Edward Nandy. Sir. While there’s a ounce of wittles or drink of any + sort in this present roof, you’re fully welcome to your share on it. While + there’s a handful of fire or a mouthful of bed in this present roof, + you’re fully welcome to your share on it. If so be as there should be + nothing in this present roof, you should be as welcome to your share on it + as if it was something, much or little. And this is what I mean and so I + don’t deceive you, and consequently which is to stand out is to entreat of + you, and therefore why not do it?’ + </p> + <p> + To this lucid address, which Mr Plornish always delivered as if he had + composed it (as no doubt he had) with enormous labour, Mrs Plornish’s + father pipingly replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘I thank you kindly, Thomas, and I know your intentions well, which is the + same I thank you kindly for. But no, Thomas. Until such times as it’s not + to take it out of your children’s mouths, which take it is, and call it by + what name you will it do remain and equally deprive, though may they come, + and too soon they can not come, no Thomas, no!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Plornish, who had been turning her face a little away with a corner of + her apron in her hand, brought herself back to the conversation again by + telling Miss Dorrit that Father was going over the water to pay his + respects, unless she knew of any reason why it might not be agreeable. + </p> + <p> + Her answer was, ‘I am going straight home, and if he will come with me I + shall be so glad to take care of him—so glad,’ said Little Dorrit, + always thoughtful of the feelings of the weak, ‘of his company.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There, Father!’ cried Mrs Plornish. ‘Ain’t you a gay young man to be + going for a walk along with Miss Dorrit! Let me tie your neck-handkerchief + into a regular good bow, for you’re a regular beau yourself, Father, if + ever there was one.’ + </p> + <p> + With this filial joke his daughter smartened him up, and gave him a loving + hug, and stood at the door with her weak child in her arms, and her strong + child tumbling down the steps, looking after her little old father as he + toddled away with his arm under Little Dorrit’s. + </p> + <p> + They walked at a slow pace, and Little Dorrit took him by the Iron Bridge + and sat him down there for a rest, and they looked over at the water and + talked about the shipping, and the old man mentioned what he would do if + he had a ship full of gold coming home to him (his plan was to take a + noble lodging for the Plornishes and himself at a Tea Gardens, and live + there all the rest of their lives, attended on by the waiter), and it was + a special birthday of the old man. They were within five minutes of their + destination, when, at the corner of her own street, they came upon Fanny + in her new bonnet bound for the same port. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, good gracious me, Amy!’ cried that young lady starting. ‘You never + mean it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mean what, Fanny dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! I could have believed a great deal of you,’ returned the young lady + with burning indignation, ‘but I don’t think even I could have believed + this, of even you!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny!’ cried Little Dorrit, wounded and astonished. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Don’t Fanny me, you mean little thing, don’t! The idea of coming + along the open streets, in the broad light of day, with a Pauper!’ (firing + off the last word as if it were a ball from an air-gun). + </p> + <p> + ‘O Fanny!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you not to Fanny me, for I’ll not submit to it! I never knew such + a thing. The way in which you are resolved and determined to disgrace us + on all occasions, is really infamous. You bad little thing!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does it disgrace anybody,’ said Little Dorrit, very gently, ‘to take care + of this poor old man?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, miss,’ returned her sister, ‘and you ought to know it does. And you + do know it does, and you do it because you know it does. The principal + pleasure of your life is to remind your family of their misfortunes. And + the next great pleasure of your existence is to keep low company. But, + however, if you have no sense of decency, I have. You’ll please to allow + me to go on the other side of the way, unmolested.’ + </p> + <p> + With this, she bounced across to the opposite pavement. The old disgrace, + who had been deferentially bowing a pace or two off (for Little Dorrit had + let his arm go in her wonder, when Fanny began), and who had been hustled + and cursed by impatient passengers for stopping the way, rejoined his + companion, rather giddy, and said, ‘I hope nothing’s wrong with your + honoured father, Miss? I hope there’s nothing the matter in the honoured + family?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ returned Little Dorrit. ‘No, thank you. Give me your arm again, + Mr Nandy. We shall soon be there now.’ + </p> + <p> + So she talked to him as she had talked before, and they came to the Lodge + and found Mr Chivery on the lock, and went in. Now, it happened that the + Father of the Marshalsea was sauntering towards the Lodge at the moment + when they were coming out of it, entering the prison arm in arm. As the + spectacle of their approach met his view, he displayed the utmost + agitation and despondency of mind; and—altogether regardless of Old + Nandy, who, making his reverence, stood with his hat in his hand, as he + always did in that gracious presence—turned about, and hurried in at + his own doorway and up the staircase. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the old unfortunate, whom in an evil hour she had taken under her + protection, with a hurried promise to return to him directly, Little + Dorrit hastened after her father, and, on the staircase, found Fanny + following her, and flouncing up with offended dignity. The three came into + the room almost together; and the Father sat down in his chair, buried his + face in his hands, and uttered a groan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ said Fanny. ‘Very proper. Poor, afflicted Pa! Now, I hope you + believe me, Miss?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it, father?’ cried Little Dorrit, bending over him. ‘Have I made + you unhappy, father? Not I, I hope!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You hope, indeed! I dare say! Oh, you’—Fanny paused for a + sufficiently strong expression—‘you Common-minded little Amy! You + complete prison-child!’ + </p> + <p> + He stopped these angry reproaches with a wave of his hand, and sobbed out, + raising his face and shaking his melancholy head at his younger daughter, + ‘Amy, I know that you are innocent in intention. But you have cut me to + the soul.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Innocent in intention!’ the implacable Fanny struck in. ‘Stuff in + intention! Low in intention! Lowering of the family in intention!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father!’ cried Little Dorrit, pale and trembling. ‘I am very sorry. Pray + forgive me. Tell me how it is, that I may not do it again!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How it is, you prevaricating little piece of goods!’ cried Fanny. ‘You + know how it is. I have told you already, so don’t fly in the face of + Providence by attempting to deny it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush! Amy,’ said the father, passing his pocket-handkerchief several + times across his face, and then grasping it convulsively in the hand that + dropped across his knee, ‘I have done what I could to keep you select + here; I have done what I could to retain you a position here. I may have + succeeded; I may not. You may know it; you may not. I give no opinion. I + have endured everything here but humiliation. That I have happily been + spared—until this day.’ + </p> + <p> + Here his convulsive grasp unclosed itself, and he put his + pocket-handkerchief to his eyes again. Little Dorrit, on the ground beside + him, with her imploring hand upon his arm, watched him remorsefully. + Coming out of his fit of grief, he clenched his pocket-handkerchief once + more. + </p> + <p> + ‘Humiliation I have happily been spared until this day. Through all my + troubles there has been that—Spirit in myself, and that—that + submission to it, if I may use the term, in those about me, which has + spared me—ha—humiliation. But this day, this minute, I have + keenly felt it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course! How could it be otherwise?’ exclaimed the irrepressible Fanny. + ‘Careering and prancing about with a Pauper!’ (air-gun again). + </p> + <p> + ‘But, dear father,’ cried Little Dorrit, ‘I don’t justify myself for + having wounded your dear heart—no! Heaven knows I don’t!’ She + clasped her hands in quite an agony of distress. ‘I do nothing but beg and + pray you to be comforted and overlook it. But if I had not known that you + were kind to the old man yourself, and took much notice of him, and were + always glad to see him, I would not have come here with him, father, I + would not, indeed. What I have been so unhappy as to do, I have done in + mistake. I would not wilfully bring a tear to your eyes, dear love!’ said + Little Dorrit, her heart well-nigh broken, ‘for anything the world could + give me, or anything it could take away.’ + </p> + <p> + Fanny, with a partly angry and partly repentant sob, began to cry herself, + and to say—as this young lady always said when she was half in + passion and half out of it, half spiteful with herself and half spiteful + with everybody else—that she wished she were dead. + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea in the meantime took his younger daughter to + his breast, and patted her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, there! Say no more, Amy, say no more, my child. I will forget it + as soon as I can. I,’ with hysterical cheerfulness, ‘I—shall soon be + able to dismiss it. It is perfectly true, my dear, that I am always glad + to see my old pensioner—as such, as such—and that I do—ha—extend + as much protection and kindness to the—hum—the bruised reed—I + trust I may so call him without impropriety—as in my circumstances, + I can. It is quite true that this is the case, my dear child. At the same + time, I preserve in doing this, if I may—ha—if I may use the + expression—Spirit. Becoming Spirit. And there are some things which + are,’ he stopped to sob, ‘irreconcilable with that, and wound that—wound + it deeply. It is not that I have seen my good Amy attentive, and—ha—condescending + to my old pensioner—it is not <i>that</i> that hurts me. It is, if I + am to close the painful subject by being explicit, that I have seen my + child, my own child, my own daughter, coming into this College out of the + public streets—smiling! smiling!—arm in arm with—O my + God, a livery!’ + </p> + <p> + This reference to the coat of no cut and no time, the unfortunate + gentleman gasped forth, in a scarcely audible voice, and with his clenched + pocket-handkerchief raised in the air. His excited feelings might have + found some further painful utterance, but for a knock at the door, which + had been already twice repeated, and to which Fanny (still wishing herself + dead, and indeed now going so far as to add, buried) cried ‘Come in!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, Young John!’ said the Father, in an altered and calmed voice. ‘What + is it, Young John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A letter for you, sir, being left in the Lodge just this minute, and a + message with it, I thought, happening to be there myself, sir, I would + bring it to your room.’ The speaker’s attention was much distracted by the + piteous spectacle of Little Dorrit at her father’s feet, with her head + turned away. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, John? Thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The letter is from Mr Clennam, sir—it’s the answer—and the + message was, sir, that Mr Clennam also sent his compliments, and word that + he would do himself the pleasure of calling this afternoon, hoping to see + you, and likewise,’ attention more distracted than before, ‘Miss Amy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ As the Father glanced into the letter (there was a bank-note in it), + he reddened a little, and patted Amy on the head afresh. ‘Thank you, Young + John. Quite right. Much obliged to you for your attention. No one + waiting?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, no one waiting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, John. How is your mother, Young John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir, she’s not quite as well as we could wish—in fact, + we none of us are, except father—but she’s pretty well, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say we sent our remembrances, will you? Say kind remembrances, if you + please, Young John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir, I will.’ And Mr Chivery junior went his way, having + spontaneously composed on the spot an entirely new epitaph for himself, to + the effect that Here lay the body of John Chivery, Who, Having at such a + date, Beheld the idol of his life, In grief and tears, And feeling unable + to bear the harrowing spectacle, Immediately repaired to the abode of his + inconsolable parents, And terminated his existence by his own rash act. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, there, Amy!’ said the Father, when Young John had closed the door, + ‘let us say no more about it.’ The last few minutes had improved his + spirits remarkably, and he was quite lightsome. ‘Where is my old pensioner + all this while? We must not leave him by himself any longer, or he will + begin to suppose he is not welcome, and that would pain me. Will you fetch + him, my child, or shall I?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you wouldn’t mind, father,’ said Little Dorrit, trying to bring her + sobbing to a close. + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly I will go, my dear. I forgot; your eyes are rather red. There! + Cheer up, Amy. Don’t be uneasy about me. I am quite myself again, my love, + quite myself. Go to your room, Amy, and make yourself look comfortable and + pleasant to receive Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would rather stay in my own room, Father,’ returned Little Dorrit, + finding it more difficult than before to regain her composure. ‘I would + far rather not see Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, fie, fie, my dear, that’s folly. Mr Clennam is a very gentlemanly man—very + gentlemanly. A little reserved at times; but I will say extremely + gentlemanly. I couldn’t think of your not being here to receive Mr + Clennam, my dear, especially this afternoon. So go and freshen yourself + up, Amy; go and freshen yourself up, like a good girl.’ + </p> + <p> + Thus directed, Little Dorrit dutifully rose and obeyed: only pausing for a + moment as she went out of the room, to give her sister a kiss of + reconciliation. Upon which, that young lady, feeling much harassed in her + mind, and having for the time worn out the wish with which she generally + relieved it, conceived and executed the brilliant idea of wishing Old + Nandy dead, rather than that he should come bothering there like a + disgusting, tiresome, wicked wretch, and making mischief between two + sisters. + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea, even humming a tune, and wearing his black + velvet cap a little on one side, so much improved were his spirits, went + down into the yard, and found his old pensioner standing there hat in hand + just within the gate, as he had stood all this time. ‘Come, Nandy!’ said + he, with great suavity. ‘Come up-stairs, Nandy; you know the way; why + don’t you come up-stairs?’ He went the length, on this occasion, of giving + him his hand and saying, ‘How are you, Nandy? Are you pretty well?’ To + which that vocalist returned, ‘I thank you, honoured sir, I am all the + better for seeing your honour.’ As they went along the yard, the Father of + the Marshalsea presented him to a Collegian of recent date. ‘An old + acquaintance of mine, sir, an old pensioner.’ And then said, ‘Be covered, + my good Nandy; put your hat on,’ with great consideration. + </p> + <p> + His patronage did not stop here; for he charged Maggy to get the tea + ready, and instructed her to buy certain tea-cakes, fresh butter, eggs, + cold ham, and shrimps: to purchase which collation he gave her a bank-note + for ten pounds, laying strict injunctions on her to be careful of the + change. These preparations were in an advanced stage of progress, and his + daughter Amy had come back with her work, when Clennam presented himself; + whom he most graciously received, and besought to join their meal. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my love, you know Mr Clennam even better than I have the happiness + of doing. Fanny, my dear, you are acquainted with Mr Clennam.’ Fanny + acknowledged him haughtily; the position she tacitly took up in all such + cases being that there was a vast conspiracy to insult the family by not + understanding it, or sufficiently deferring to it, and here was one of the + conspirators. ‘This, Mr Clennam, you must know, is an old pensioner of + mine, Old Nandy, a very faithful old man.’ (He always spoke of him as an + object of great antiquity, but he was two or three years younger than + himself.) ‘Let me see. You know Plornish, I think? I think my daughter Amy + has mentioned to me that you know poor Plornish?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O yes!’ said Arthur Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir, this is Mrs Plornish’s father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed? I am glad to see him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You would be more glad if you knew his many good qualities, Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope I shall come to know them through knowing him,’ said Arthur, + secretly pitying the bowed and submissive figure. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a holiday with him, and he comes to see his old friends, who are + always glad to see him,’ observed the Father of the Marshalsea. Then he + added behind his hand, (‘Union, poor old fellow. Out for the day.’) + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0336m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0336m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0336.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + By this time Maggy, quietly assisted by her Little Mother, had spread the + board, and the repast was ready. It being hot weather and the prison very + close, the window was as wide open as it could be pushed. ‘If Maggy will + spread that newspaper on the window-sill, my dear,’ remarked the Father + complacently and in a half whisper to Little Dorrit, ‘my old pensioner can + have his tea there, while we are having ours.’ + </p> + <p> + So, with a gulf between him and the good company of about a foot in width, + standard measure, Mrs Plornish’s father was handsomely regaled. Clennam + had never seen anything like his magnanimous protection by that other + Father, he of the Marshalsea; and was lost in the contemplation of its + many wonders. + </p> + <p> + The most striking of these was perhaps the relishing manner in which he + remarked on the pensioner’s infirmities and failings, as if he were a + gracious Keeper making a running commentary on the decline of the harmless + animal he exhibited. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not ready for more ham yet, Nandy? Why, how slow you are! (His last + teeth,’ he explained to the company, ‘are going, poor old boy.’) + </p> + <p> + At another time, he said, ‘No shrimps, Nandy?’ and on his not instantly + replying, observed, (‘His hearing is becoming very defective. He’ll be + deaf directly.’) + </p> + <p> + At another time he asked him, ‘Do you walk much, Nandy, about the yard + within the walls of that place of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir; no. I haven’t any great liking for that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, to be sure,’ he assented. ‘Very natural.’ Then he privately informed + the circle (‘Legs going.’) + </p> + <p> + Once he asked the pensioner, in that general clemency which asked him + anything to keep him afloat, how old his younger grandchild was? + </p> + <p> + ‘John Edward,’ said the pensioner, slowly laying down his knife and fork + to consider. ‘How old, sir? Let me think now.’ + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea tapped his forehead (‘Memory weak.’) + </p> + <p> + ‘John Edward, sir? Well, I really forget. I couldn’t say at this minute, + sir, whether it’s two and two months, or whether it’s two and five months. + It’s one or the other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t distress yourself by worrying your mind about it,’ he returned, + with infinite forbearance. (‘Faculties evidently decaying—old man + rusts in the life he leads!’) + </p> + <p> + The more of these discoveries that he persuaded himself he made in the + pensioner, the better he appeared to like him; and when he got out of his + chair after tea to bid the pensioner good-bye, on his intimating that he + feared, honoured sir, his time was running out, he made himself look as + erect and strong as possible. + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t call this a shilling, Nandy, you know,’ he said, putting one in + his hand. ‘We call it tobacco.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Honoured sir, I thank you. It shall buy tobacco. My thanks and duty to + Miss Amy and Miss Fanny. I wish you good night, Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And mind you don’t forget us, you know, Nandy,’ said the Father. ‘You + must come again, mind, whenever you have an afternoon. You must not come + out without seeing us, or we shall be jealous. Good night, Nandy. Be very + careful how you descend the stairs, Nandy; they are rather uneven and + worn.’ With that he stood on the landing, watching the old man down: and + when he came into the room again, said, with a solemn satisfaction on him, + ‘A melancholy sight that, Mr Clennam, though one has the consolation of + knowing that he doesn’t feel it himself. The poor old fellow is a dismal + wreck. Spirit broken and gone—pulverised—crushed out of him, + sir, completely!’ + </p> + <p> + As Clennam had a purpose in remaining, he said what he could responsive to + these sentiments, and stood at the window with their enunciator, while + Maggy and her Little Mother washed the tea-service and cleared it away. He + noticed that his companion stood at the window with the air of an affable + and accessible Sovereign, and that, when any of his people in the yard + below looked up, his recognition of their salutes just stopped short of a + blessing. + </p> + <p> + When Little Dorrit had her work on the table, and Maggy hers on the + bedstead, Fanny fell to tying her bonnet as a preliminary to her + departure. Arthur, still having his purpose, still remained. At this time + the door opened, without any notice, and Mr Tip came in. He kissed Amy as + she started up to meet him, nodded to Fanny, nodded to his father, gloomed + on the visitor without further recognition, and sat down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Tip, dear,’ said Little Dorrit, mildly, shocked by this, ‘don’t you see—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I see, Amy. If you refer to the presence of any visitor you have + here—I say, if you refer to that,’ answered Tip, jerking his head + with emphasis towards his shoulder nearest Clennam, ‘I see!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that all you say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s all I say. And I suppose,’ added the lofty young man, after a + moment’s pause, ‘that visitor will understand me, when I say that’s all I + say. In short, I suppose the visitor will understand that he hasn’t used + me like a gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not understand that,’ observed the obnoxious personage referred to + with tranquillity. + </p> + <p> + ‘No? Why, then, to make it clearer to you, sir, I beg to let you know that + when I address what I call a properly-worded appeal, and an urgent appeal, + and a delicate appeal, to an individual, for a small temporary + accommodation, easily within his power—easily within his power, + mind!—and when that individual writes back word to me that he begs + to be excused, I consider that he doesn’t treat me like a gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + The Father of the Marshalsea, who had surveyed his son in silence, no + sooner heard this sentiment, than he began in angry voice:— + </p> + <p> + ‘How dare you—’ But his son stopped him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, don’t ask me how I dare, father, because that’s bosh. As to the fact + of the line of conduct I choose to adopt towards the individual present, + you ought to be proud of my showing a proper spirit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should think so!’ cried Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘A proper spirit?’ said the Father. ‘Yes, a proper spirit; a becoming + spirit. Is it come to this that my son teaches me—<i>me</i>—spirit!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, don’t let us bother about it, father, or have any row on the + subject. I have fully made up my mind that the individual present has not + treated me like a gentleman. And there’s an end of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But there is not an end of it, sir,’ returned the Father. ‘But there + shall not be an end of it. You have made up your mind? You have made up + your mind?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, <i>I</i> have. What’s the good of keeping on like that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because,’ returned the Father, in a great heat, ‘you had no right to make + up your mind to what is monstrous, to what is—ha—immoral, to + what is—hum—parricidal. No, Mr Clennam, I beg, sir. Don’t ask + me to desist; there is a—hum—a general principle involved + here, which rises even above considerations of—ha—hospitality. + I object to the assertion made by my son. I—ha—I personally + repel it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, what is it to you, father?’ returned the son, over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it to me, sir? I have a—hum—a spirit, sir, that will + not endure it. I,’ he took out his pocket-handkerchief again and dabbed + his face. ‘I am outraged and insulted by it. Let me suppose the case that + I myself may at a certain time—ha—or times, have made a—hum—an + appeal, and a properly-worded appeal, and a delicate appeal, and an urgent + appeal to some individual for a small temporary accommodation. Let me + suppose that that accommodation could have been easily extended, and was + not extended, and that that individual informed me that he begged to be + excused. Am I to be told by my own son, that I therefore received + treatment not due to a gentleman, and that I—ha—I submitted to + it?’ + </p> + <p> + His daughter Amy gently tried to calm him, but he would not on any account + be calmed. He said his spirit was up, and wouldn’t endure this. + </p> + <p> + Was he to be told that, he wished to know again, by his own son on his own + hearth, to his own face? Was that humiliation to be put upon him by his + own blood? + </p> + <p> + ‘You are putting it on yourself, father, and getting into all this injury + of your own accord!’ said the young gentleman morosely. ‘What I have made + up my mind about has nothing to do with you. What I said had nothing to do + with you. Why need you go trying on other people’s hats?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I reply it has everything to do with me,’ returned the Father. ‘I point + out to you, sir, with indignation, that—hum—the—ha—delicacy + and peculiarity of your father’s position should strike you dumb, sir, if + nothing else should, in laying down such—ha—such unnatural + principles. Besides; if you are not filial, sir, if you discard that duty, + you are at least—hum—not a Christian? Are you—ha—an + Atheist? And is it Christian, let me ask you, to stigmatise and denounce + an individual for begging to be excused this time, when the same + individual may—ha—respond with the required accommodation next + time? Is it the part of a Christian not to—hum—not to try him + again?’ He had worked himself into quite a religious glow and fervour. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see precious well,’ said Mr Tip, rising, ‘that I shall get no sensible + or fair argument here to-night, and so the best thing I can do is to cut. + Good night, Amy. Don’t be vexed. I am very sorry it happens here, and you + here, upon my soul I am; but I can’t altogether part with my spirit, even + for your sake, old girl.’ + </p> + <p> + With those words he put on his hat and went out, accompanied by Miss + Fanny; who did not consider it spirited on her part to take leave of + Clennam with any less opposing demonstration than a stare, importing that + she had always known him for one of the large body of conspirators. + </p> + <p> + When they were gone, the Father of the Marshalsea was at first inclined to + sink into despondency again, and would have done so, but that a gentleman + opportunely came up within a minute or two to attend him to the Snuggery. + It was the gentleman Clennam had seen on the night of his own accidental + detention there, who had that impalpable grievance about the + misappropriated Fund on which the Marshal was supposed to batten. He + presented himself as deputation to escort the Father to the Chair, it + being an occasion on which he had promised to preside over the assembled + Collegians in the enjoyment of a little Harmony. + </p> + <p> + ‘Such, you see, Mr Clennam,’ said the Father, ‘are the incongruities of my + position here. But a public duty! No man, I am sure, would more readily + recognise a public duty than yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam besought him not to delay a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my dear, if you can persuade Mr Clennam to stay longer, I can leave + the honours of our poor apology for an establishment with confidence in + your hands, and perhaps you may do something towards erasing from Mr + Clennam’s mind the—ha—untoward and unpleasant circumstance + which has occurred since tea-time.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam assured him that it had made no impression on his mind, and + therefore required no erasure. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear sir,’ said the Father, with a removal of his black cap and a + grasp of Clennam’s hand, combining to express the safe receipt of his note + and enclosure that afternoon, ‘Heaven ever bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + So, at last, Clennam’s purpose in remaining was attained, and he could + speak to Little Dorrit with nobody by. Maggy counted as nobody, and she + was by. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0032"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 32. More Fortune-Telling + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>aggy sat at her work in her great white cap with its quantity of opaque + frilling hiding what profile she had (she had none to spare), and her + serviceable eye brought to bear upon her occupation, on the window side of + the room. What with her flapping cap, and what with her unserviceable eye, + she was quite partitioned off from her Little Mother, whose seat was + opposite the window. The tread and shuffle of feet on the pavement of the + yard had much diminished since the taking of the Chair, the tide of + Collegians having set strongly in the direction of Harmony. Some few who + had no music in their souls, or no money in their pockets, dawdled about; + and the old spectacle of the visitor-wife and the depressed unseasoned + prisoner still lingered in corners, as broken cobwebs and such unsightly + discomforts draggle in corners of other places. It was the quietest time + the College knew, saving the night hours when the Collegians took the + benefit of the act of sleep. The occasional rattle of applause upon the + tables of the Snuggery, denoted the successful termination of a morsel of + Harmony; or the responsive acceptance, by the united children, of some + toast or sentiment offered to them by their Father. Occasionally, a vocal + strain more sonorous than the generality informed the listener that some + boastful bass was in blue water, or in the hunting field, or with the + reindeer, or on the mountain, or among the heather; but the Marshal of the + Marshalsea knew better, and had got him hard and fast. + </p> + <p> + As Arthur Clennam moved to sit down by the side of Little Dorrit, she + trembled so that she had much ado to hold her needle. Clennam gently put + his hand upon her work, and said, ‘Dear Little Dorrit, let me lay it + down.’ + </p> + <p> + She yielded it to him, and he put it aside. Her hands were then nervously + clasping together, but he took one of them. + </p> + <p> + ‘How seldom I have seen you lately, Little Dorrit!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been busy, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I heard only to-day,’ said Clennam, ‘by mere accident, of your having + been with those good people close by me. Why not come to me, then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I—I don’t know. Or rather, I thought you might be busy too. You + generally are now, are you not?’ + </p> + <p> + He saw her trembling little form and her downcast face, and the eyes that + drooped the moment they were raised to his—he saw them almost with + as much concern as tenderness. + </p> + <p> + ‘My child, your manner is so changed!’ + </p> + <p> + The trembling was now quite beyond her control. Softly withdrawing her + hand, and laying it in her other hand, she sat before him with her head + bent and her whole form trembling. + </p> + <p> + ‘My own Little Dorrit,’ said Clennam, compassionately. + </p> + <p> + She burst into tears. Maggy looked round of a sudden, and stared for at + least a minute; but did not interpose. Clennam waited some little while + before he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot bear,’ he said then, ‘to see you weep; but I hope this is a + relief to an overcharged heart.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes it is, sir. Nothing but that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well! I feared you would think too much of what passed here just + now. It is of no moment; not the least. I am only unfortunate to have come + in the way. Let it go by with these tears. It is not worth one of them. + One of them? Such an idle thing should be repeated, with my glad consent, + fifty times a day, to save you a moment’s heart-ache, Little Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + She had taken courage now, and answered, far more in her usual manner, + ‘You are so good! But even if there was nothing else in it to be sorry for + and ashamed of, it is such a bad return to you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hush!’ said Clennam, smiling and touching her lips with his hand. + ‘Forgetfulness in you who remember so many and so much, would be new + indeed. Shall I remind you that I am not, and that I never was, anything + but the friend whom you agreed to trust? No. You remember it, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I try to do so, or I should have broken the promise just now, when my + mistaken brother was here. You will consider his bringing-up in this + place, and will not judge him hardly, poor fellow, I know!’ In raising her + eyes with these words, she observed his face more nearly than she had done + yet, and said, with a quick change of tone, ‘You have not been ill, Mr + Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor tried? Nor hurt?’ she asked him, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + It fell to Clennam now, to be not quite certain how to answer. He said in + reply: + </p> + <p> + ‘To speak the truth, I have been a little troubled, but it is over. Do I + show it so plainly? I ought to have more fortitude and self-command than + that. I thought I had. I must learn them of you. Who could teach me + better!’ + </p> + <p> + He never thought that she saw in him what no one else could see. He never + thought that in the whole world there were no other eyes that looked upon + him with the same light and strength as hers. + </p> + <p> + ‘But it brings me to something that I wish to say,’ he continued, ‘and + therefore I will not quarrel even with my own face for telling tales and + being unfaithful to me. Besides, it is a privilege and pleasure to confide + in my Little Dorrit. Let me confess then, that, forgetting how grave I + was, and how old I was, and how the time for such things had gone by me + with the many years of sameness and little happiness that made up my long + life far away, without marking it—that, forgetting all this, I + fancied I loved some one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I know her, sir?’ asked Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, my child.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not the lady who has been kind to me for your sake?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flora. No, no. Do you think—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never quite thought so,’ said Little Dorrit, more to herself than him. + ‘I did wonder at it a little.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Clennam, abiding by the feeling that had fallen on him in the + avenue on the night of the roses, the feeling that he was an older man, + who had done with that tender part of life, ‘I found out my mistake, and I + thought about it a little—in short, a good deal—and got wiser. + Being wiser, I counted up my years and considered what I am, and looked + back, and looked forward, and found that I should soon be grey. I found + that I had climbed the hill, and passed the level ground upon the top, and + was descending quickly.’ + </p> + <p> + If he had known the sharpness of the pain he caused the patient heart, in + speaking thus! While doing it, too, with the purpose of easing and serving + her. + </p> + <p> + ‘I found that the day when any such thing would have been graceful in me, + or good in me, or hopeful or happy for me or any one in connection with + me, was gone, and would never shine again.’ + </p> + <p> + O! If he had known, if he had known! If he could have seen the dagger in + his hand, and the cruel wounds it struck in the faithful bleeding breast + of his Little Dorrit! + </p> + <p> + ‘All that is over, and I have turned my face from it. Why do I speak of + this to Little Dorrit? Why do I show you, my child, the space of years + that there is between us, and recall to you that I have passed, by the + amount of your whole life, the time that is present to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because you trust me, I hope. Because you know that nothing can touch you + without touching me; that nothing can make you happy or unhappy, but it + must make me, who am so grateful to you, the same.’ + </p> + <p> + He heard the thrill in her voice, he saw her earnest face, he saw her + clear true eyes, he saw the quickened bosom that would have joyfully + thrown itself before him to receive a mortal wound directed at his breast, + with the dying cry, ‘I love him!’ and the remotest suspicion of the truth + never dawned upon his mind. No. He saw the devoted little creature with + her worn shoes, in her common dress, in her jail-home; a slender child in + body, a strong heroine in soul; and the light of her domestic story made + all else dark to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘For those reasons assuredly, Little Dorrit, but for another too. So far + removed, so different, and so much older, I am the better fitted for your + friend and adviser. I mean, I am the more easily to be trusted; and any + little constraint that you might feel with another, may vanish before me. + Why have you kept so retired from me? Tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am better here. My place and use are here. I am much better here,’ said + Little Dorrit, faintly. + </p> + <p> + ‘So you said that day upon the bridge. I thought of it much afterwards. + Have you no secret you could entrust to me, with hope and comfort, if you + would!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Secret? No, I have no secret,’ said Little Dorrit in some trouble. + </p> + <p> + They had been speaking in low voices; more because it was natural to what + they said to adopt that tone, than with any care to reserve it from Maggy + at her work. All of a sudden Maggy stared again, and this time spoke: + </p> + <p> + ‘I say! Little Mother!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Maggy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you an’t got no secret of your own to tell him, tell him that about + the Princess. <i>She</i> had a secret, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The Princess had a secret?’ said Clennam, in some surprise. ‘What + Princess was that, Maggy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lor! How you do go and bother a gal of ten,’ said Maggy, ‘catching the + poor thing up in that way. Whoever said the Princess had a secret? <i>I</i> + never said so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon. I thought you did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I didn’t. How could I, when it was her as wanted to find it out? It + was the little woman as had the secret, and she was always a spinning at + her wheel. And so she says to her, why do you keep it there? And so the + t’other one says to her, no I don’t; and so the t’other one says to her, + yes you do; and then they both goes to the cupboard, and there it is. And + she wouldn’t go into the Hospital, and so she died. <i>You</i> know, + Little Mother; tell him that. For it was a reg’lar good secret, that was!’ + cried Maggy, hugging herself. + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at Little Dorrit for help to comprehend this, and was struck + by seeing her so timid and red. But, when she told him that it was only a + Fairy Tale she had one day made up for Maggy, and that there was nothing + in it which she wouldn’t be ashamed to tell again to anybody else, even if + she could remember it, he left the subject where it was. + </p> + <p> + However, he returned to his own subject by first entreating her to see him + oftener, and to remember that it was impossible to have a stronger + interest in her welfare than he had, or to be more set upon promoting it + than he was. When she answered fervently, she well knew that, she never + forgot it, he touched upon his second and more delicate point—the + suspicion he had formed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Little Dorrit,’ he said, taking her hand again, and speaking lower than + he had spoken yet, so that even Maggy in the small room could not hear + him, ‘another word. I have wanted very much to say this to you; I have + tried for opportunities. Don’t mind me, who, for the matter of years, + might be your father or your uncle. Always think of me as quite an old + man. I know that all your devotion centres in this room, and that nothing + to the last will ever tempt you away from the duties you discharge here. + If I were not sure of it, I should, before now, have implored you, and + implored your father, to let me make some provision for you in a more + suitable place. But you may have an interest—I will not say, now, + though even that might be—may have, at another time, an interest in + some one else; an interest not incompatible with your affection here.’ + </p> + <p> + She was very, very pale, and silently shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be, dear Little Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. No. No.’ She shook her head, after each slow repetition of the word, + with an air of quiet desolation that he remembered long afterwards. The + time came when he remembered it well, long afterwards, within those prison + walls; within that very room. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, if it ever should be, tell me so, my dear child. Entrust the truth + to me, point out the object of such an interest to me, and I will try with + all the zeal, and honour, and friendship and respect that I feel for you, + good Little Dorrit of my heart, to do you a lasting service.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O thank you, thank you! But, O no, O no, O no!’ She said this, looking at + him with her work-worn hands folded together, and in the same resigned + accents as before. + </p> + <p> + ‘I press for no confidence now. I only ask you to repose unhesitating + trust in me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can I do less than that, when you are so good!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you will trust me fully? Will have no secret unhappiness, or + anxiety, concealed from me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Almost none.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you have none now?’ + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. But she was very pale. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I lie down to-night, and my thoughts come back—as they will, + for they do every night, even when I have not seen you—to this sad + place, I may believe that there is no grief beyond this room, now, and its + usual occupants, which preys on Little Dorrit’s mind?’ + </p> + <p> + She seemed to catch at these words—that he remembered, too, long + afterwards—and said, more brightly, ‘Yes, Mr Clennam; yes, you may!’ + </p> + <p> + The crazy staircase, usually not slow to give notice when any one was + coming up or down, here creaked under a quick tread, and a further sound + was heard upon it, as if a little steam-engine with more steam than it + knew what to do with, were working towards the room. As it approached, + which it did very rapidly, it laboured with increased energy; and, after + knocking at the door, it sounded as if it were stooping down and snorting + in at the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + Before Maggy could open the door, Mr Pancks, opening it from without, + stood without a hat and with his bare head in the wildest condition, + looking at Clennam and Little Dorrit, over her shoulder. He had a lighted + cigar in his hand, and brought with him airs of ale and tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pancks the gipsy,’ he observed out of breath, ‘fortune-telling.’ + </p> + <p> + He stood dingily smiling, and breathing hard at them, with a most curious + air; as if, instead of being his proprietor’s grubber, he were the + triumphant proprietor of the Marshalsea, the Marshal, all the turnkeys, + and all the Collegians. In his great self-satisfaction he put his cigar to + his lips (being evidently no smoker), and took such a pull at it, with his + right eye shut up tight for the purpose, that he underwent a convulsion of + shuddering and choking. But even in the midst of that paroxysm, he still + essayed to repeat his favourite introduction of himself, ‘Pa-ancks the + gi-ipsy, fortune-telling.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am spending the evening with the rest of ‘em,’ said Pancks. ‘I’ve been + singing. I’ve been taking a part in White sand and grey sand. <i>I</i> + don’t know anything about it. Never mind. I’ll take any part in anything. + It’s all the same, if you’re loud enough.’ + </p> + <p> + At first Clennam supposed him to be intoxicated. But he soon perceived + that though he might be a little the worse (or better) for ale, the staple + of his excitement was not brewed from malt, or distilled from any grain or + berry. + </p> + <p> + ‘How d’ye do, Miss Dorrit?’ said Pancks. ‘I thought you wouldn’t mind my + running round, and looking in for a moment. Mr Clennam I heard was here, + from Mr Dorrit. How are you, Sir?’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam thanked him, and said he was glad to see him so gay. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gay!’ said Pancks. ‘I’m in wonderful feather, sir. I can’t stop a minute, + or I shall be missed, and I don’t want ‘em to miss me.—Eh, Miss + Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + He seemed to have an insatiate delight in appealing to her and looking at + her; excitedly sticking his hair up at the same moment, like a dark + species of cockatoo. + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t been here half an hour. I knew Mr Dorrit was in the chair, and + I said, “I’ll go and support him!” I ought to be down in Bleeding Heart + Yard by rights; but I can worry them to-morrow.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + His little black eyes sparkled electrically. His very hair seemed to + sparkle as he roughened it. He was in that highly-charged state that one + might have expected to draw sparks and snaps from him by presenting a + knuckle to any part of his figure. + </p> + <p> + ‘Capital company here,’ said Pancks.—‘Eh, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + She was half afraid of him, and irresolute what to say. He laughed, with a + nod towards Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t mind him, Miss Dorrit. He’s one of us. We agreed that you shouldn’t + take on to mind me before people, but we didn’t mean Mr Clennam. He’s one + of us. He’s in it. An’t you, Mr Clennam?—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + The excitement of this strange creature was fast communicating itself to + Clennam. Little Dorrit with amazement, saw this, and observed that they + exchanged quick looks. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was making a remark,’ said Pancks, ‘but I declare I forget what it was. + Oh, I know! Capital company here. I’ve been treating ‘em all round.—Eh, + Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very generous of you,’ she returned, noticing another of the quick looks + between the two. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ said Pancks. ‘Don’t mention it. I’m coming into my property, + that’s the fact. I can afford to be liberal. I think I’ll give ‘em a treat + here. Tables laid in the yard. Bread in stacks. Pipes in faggots. Tobacco + in hayloads. Roast beef and plum-pudding for every one. Quart of double + stout a head. Pint of wine too, if they like it, and the authorities give + permission.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + She was thrown into such a confusion by his manner, or rather by Clennam’s + growing understanding of his manner (for she looked to him after every + fresh appeal and cockatoo demonstration on the part of Mr Pancks), that + she only moved her lips in answer, without forming any word. + </p> + <p> + ‘And oh, by-the-bye!’ said Pancks, ‘you were to live to know what was + behind us on that little hand of yours. And so you shall, you shall, my + darling.—Eh, Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + He had suddenly checked himself. Where he got all the additional black + prongs from, that now flew up all over his head like the myriads of points + that break out in the large change of a great firework, was a wonderful + mystery. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I shall be missed;’ he came back to that; ‘and I don’t want ‘em to + miss me. Mr Clennam, you and I made a bargain. I said you should find me + stick to it. You shall find me stick to it now, sir, if you’ll step out of + the room a moment. Miss Dorrit, I wish you good night. Miss Dorrit, I wish + you good fortune.’ + </p> + <p> + He rapidly shook her by both hands, and puffed down stairs. Arthur + followed him with such a hurried step, that he had very nearly tumbled + over him on the last landing, and rolled him down into the yard. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it, for Heaven’s sake!’ Arthur demanded, when they burst out + there both together. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop a moment, sir. Mr Rugg. Let me introduce him.’ + </p> + <p> + With those words he presented another man without a hat, and also with a + cigar, and also surrounded with a halo of ale and tobacco smoke, which + man, though not so excited as himself, was in a state which would have + been akin to lunacy but for its fading into sober method when compared + with the rampancy of Mr Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, Mr Rugg,’ said Pancks. ‘Stop a moment. Come to the pump.’ + </p> + <p> + They adjourned to the pump. Mr Pancks, instantly putting his head under + the spout, requested Mr Rugg to take a good strong turn at the handle. Mr + Rugg complying to the letter, Mr Pancks came forth snorting and blowing to + some purpose, and dried himself on his handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the clearer for that,’ he gasped to Clennam standing astonished. + ‘But upon my soul, to hear her father making speeches in that chair, + knowing what we know, and to see her up in that room in that dress, + knowing what we know, is enough to—give me a back, Mr Rugg—a + little higher, sir,—that’ll do!’ + </p> + <p> + Then and there, on that Marshalsea pavement, in the shades of evening, did + Mr Pancks, of all mankind, fly over the head and shoulders of Mr Rugg of + Pentonville, General Agent, Accountant, and Recoverer of Debts. Alighting + on his feet, he took Clennam by the button-hole, led him behind the pump, + and pantingly produced from his pocket a bundle of papers. + </p> + <p> + Mr Rugg, also, pantingly produced from his pocket a bundle of papers. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay!’ said Clennam in a whisper.‘You have made a discovery.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks answered, with an unction which there is no language to convey, + ‘We rather think so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does it implicate any one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How implicate, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In any suppression or wrong dealing of any kind?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a bit of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank God!’ said Clennam to himself. ‘Now show me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are to understand’—snorted Pancks, feverishly unfolding papers, + and speaking in short high-pressure blasts of sentences, ‘Where’s the + Pedigree? Where’s Schedule number four, Mr Rugg? Oh! all right! Here we + are.—You are to understand that we are this very day virtually + complete. We shan’t be legally for a day or two. Call it at the outside a + week. We’ve been at it night and day for I don’t know how long. Mr Rugg, + you know how long? Never mind. Don’t say. You’ll only confuse me. You + shall tell her, Mr Clennam. Not till we give you leave. Where’s that rough + total, Mr Rugg? Oh! Here we are! There sir! That’s what you’ll have to + break to her. That man’s your Father of the Marshalsea!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0033"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 33. Mrs Merdle’s Complaint + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>esigning herself to inevitable fate by making the best of those people, + the Miggleses, and submitting her philosophy to the draught upon it, of + which she had foreseen the likelihood in her interview with Arthur, Mrs + Gowan handsomely resolved not to oppose her son’s marriage. In her + progress to, and happy arrival at, this resolution, she was possibly + influenced, not only by her maternal affections but by three politic + considerations. + </p> + <p> + Of these, the first may have been that her son had never signified the + smallest intention to ask her consent, or any mistrust of his ability to + dispense with it; the second, that the pension bestowed upon her by a + grateful country (and a Barnacle) would be freed from any little filial + inroads, when her Henry should be married to the darling only child of a + man in very easy circumstances; the third, that Henry’s debts must clearly + be paid down upon the altar-railing by his father-in-law. When, to these + three-fold points of prudence there is added the fact that Mrs Gowan + yielded her consent the moment she knew of Mr Meagles having yielded his, + and that Mr Meagles’s objection to the marriage had been the sole obstacle + in its way all along, it becomes the height of probability that the relict + of the deceased Commissioner of nothing particular, turned these ideas in + her sagacious mind. + </p> + <p> + Among her connections and acquaintances, however, she maintained her + individual dignity and the dignity of the blood of the Barnacles, by + diligently nursing the pretence that it was a most unfortunate business; + that she was sadly cut up by it; that this was a perfect fascination under + which Henry laboured; that she had opposed it for a long time, but what + could a mother do; and the like. She had already called Arthur Clennam to + bear witness to this fable, as a friend of the Meagles family; and she + followed up the move by now impounding the family itself for the same + purpose. In the first interview she accorded to Mr Meagles, she slided + herself into the position of disconsolately but gracefully yielding to + irresistible pressure. With the utmost politeness and good-breeding, she + feigned that it was she—not he—who had made the difficulty, + and who at length gave way; and that the sacrifice was hers—not his. + The same feint, with the same polite dexterity, she foisted on Mrs + Meagles, as a conjuror might have forced a card on that innocent lady; + and, when her future daughter-in-law was presented to her by her son, she + said on embracing her, ‘My dear, what have you done to Henry that has + bewitched him so!’ at the same time allowing a few tears to carry before + them, in little pills, the cosmetic powder on her nose; as a delicate but + touching signal that she suffered much inwardly for the show of composure + with which she bore her misfortune. + </p> + <p> + Among the friends of Mrs Gowan (who piqued herself at once on being + Society, and on maintaining intimate and easy relations with that Power), + Mrs Merdle occupied a front row. True, the Hampton Court Bohemians, + without exception, turned up their noses at Merdle as an upstart; but they + turned them down again, by falling flat on their faces to worship his + wealth. In which compensating adjustment of their noses, they were pretty + much like Treasury, Bar, and Bishop, and all the rest of them. + </p> + <p> + To Mrs Merdle, Mrs Gowan repaired on a visit of self-condolence, after + having given the gracious consent aforesaid. She drove into town for the + purpose in a one-horse carriage irreverently called at that period of + English history, a pill-box. It belonged to a job-master in a small way, + who drove it himself, and who jobbed it by the day, or hour, to most of + the old ladies in Hampton Court Palace; but it was a point of ceremony, in + that encampment, that the whole equipage should be tacitly regarded as the + private property of the jobber for the time being, and that the job-master + should betray personal knowledge of nobody but the jobber in possession. + So the Circumlocution Barnacles, who were the largest job-masters in the + universe, always pretended to know of no other job but the job immediately + in hand. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle was at home, and was in her nest of crimson and gold, with the + parrot on a neighbouring stem watching her with his head on one side, as + if he took her for another splendid parrot of a larger species. To whom + entered Mrs Gowan, with her favourite green fan, which softened the light + on the spots of bloom. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear soul,’ said Mrs Gowan, tapping the back of her friend’s hand with + this fan after a little indifferent conversation, ‘you are my only + comfort. That affair of Henry’s that I told you of, is to take place. Now, + how does it strike you? I am dying to know, because you represent and + express Society so well.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle reviewed the bosom which Society was accustomed to review; and + having ascertained that show-window of Mr Merdle’s and the London + jewellers’ to be in good order, replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘As to marriage on the part of a man, my dear, Society requires that he + should retrieve his fortunes by marriage. Society requires that he should + gain by marriage. Society requires that he should found a handsome + establishment by marriage. Society does not see, otherwise, what he has to + do with marriage. Bird, be quiet!’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0351m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0351m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0351.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + For the parrot on his cage above them, presiding over the conference as if + he were a judge (and indeed he looked rather like one), had wound up the + exposition with a shriek. + </p> + <p> + ‘Cases there are,’ said Mrs Merdle, delicately crooking the little finger + of her favourite hand, and making her remarks neater by that neat action; + ‘cases there are where a man is not young or elegant, and is rich, and has + a handsome establishment already. Those are of a different kind. In such + cases—’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle shrugged her snowy shoulders and put her hand upon the + jewel-stand, checking a little cough, as though to add, ‘why, a man looks + out for this sort of thing, my dear.’ Then the parrot shrieked again, and + she put up her glass to look at him, and said, ‘Bird! Do be quiet!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, young men,’ resumed Mrs Merdle, ‘and by young men you know what I + mean, my love—I mean people’s sons who have the world before them—they + must place themselves in a better position towards Society by marriage, or + Society really will not have any patience with their making fools of + themselves. Dreadfully worldly all this sounds,’ said Mrs Merdle, leaning + back in her nest and putting up her glass again, ‘does it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is true,’ said Mrs Gowan, with a highly moral air. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear, it is not to be disputed for a moment,’ returned Mrs Merdle; + ‘because Society has made up its mind on the subject, and there is nothing + more to be said. If we were in a more primitive state, if we lived under + roofs of leaves, and kept cows and sheep and creatures instead of banker’s + accounts (which would be delicious; my dear, I am pastoral to a degree, by + nature), well and good. But we don’t live under leaves, and keep cows and + sheep and creatures. I perfectly exhaust myself sometimes, in pointing out + the distinction to Edmund Sparkler.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan, looking over her green fan when this young gentleman’s name was + mentioned, replied as follows: + </p> + <p> + ‘My love, you know the wretched state of the country—those + unfortunate concessions of John Barnacle’s!—and you therefore know + the reasons for my being as poor as Thingummy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A church mouse?’ Mrs Merdle suggested with a smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was thinking of the other proverbial church person—Job,’ said Mrs + Gowan. ‘Either will do. It would be idle to disguise, consequently, that + there is a wide difference between the position of your son and mine. I + may add, too, that Henry has talent—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which Edmund certainly has not,’ said Mrs Merdle, with the greatest + suavity. + </p> + <p> + ‘—and that his talent, combined with disappointment,’ Mrs Gowan went + on, ‘has led him into a pursuit which—ah dear me! You know, my dear. + Such being Henry’s different position, the question is what is the most + inferior class of marriage to which I can reconcile myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle was so much engaged with the contemplation of her arms + (beautiful-formed arms, and the very thing for bracelets), that she + omitted to reply for a while. Roused at length by the silence, she folded + the arms, and with admirable presence of mind looked her friend full in + the face, and said interrogatively, ‘Ye-es? And then?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And then, my dear,’ said Mrs Gowan not quite so sweetly as before, ‘I + should be glad to hear what you have to say to it.’ + </p> + <p> + Here the parrot, who had been standing on one leg since he screamed last, + burst into a fit of laughter, bobbed himself derisively up and down on + both legs, and finished by standing on one leg again, and pausing for a + reply, with his head as much awry as he could possibly twist it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sounds mercenary to ask what the gentleman is to get with the lady,’ said + Mrs Merdle; ‘but Society is perhaps a little mercenary, you know, my + dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘From what I can make out,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘I believe I may say that + Henry will be relieved from debt—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Much in debt?’ asked Mrs Merdle through her eyeglass. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why tolerably, I should think,’ said Mrs Gowan. + </p> + <p> + ‘Meaning the usual thing; I understand; just so,’ Mrs Merdle observed in a + comfortable sort of way. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that the father will make them an allowance of three hundred a-year, + or perhaps altogether something more, which, in Italy-’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Going to Italy?’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘For Henry to study. You need be at no loss to guess why, my dear. That + dreadful Art—’ + </p> + <p> + True. Mrs Merdle hastened to spare the feelings of her afflicted friend. + She understood. Say no more! + </p> + <p> + ‘And that,’ said Mrs Gowan, shaking her despondent head, ‘that’s all. + That,’ repeated Mrs Gowan, furling her green fan for the moment, and + tapping her chin with it (it was on the way to being a double chin; might + be called a chin and a half at present), ‘that’s all! On the death of the + old people, I suppose there will be more to come; but how it may be + restricted or locked up, I don’t know. And as to that, they may live for + ever. My dear, they are just the kind of people to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Now, Mrs Merdle, who really knew her friend Society pretty well, and who + knew what Society’s mothers were, and what Society’s daughters were, and + what Society’s matrimonial market was, and how prices ruled in it, and + what scheming and counter-scheming took place for the high buyers, and + what bargaining and huckstering went on, thought in the depths of her + capacious bosom that this was a sufficiently good catch. Knowing, however, + what was expected of her, and perceiving the exact nature of the fiction + to be nursed, she took it delicately in her arms, and put her required + contribution of gloss upon it. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that is all, my dear?’ said she, heaving a friendly sigh. ‘Well, + well! The fault is not yours. You have nothing to reproach yourself with. + You must exercise the strength of mind for which you are renowned, and + make the best of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The girl’s family have made,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘of course, the most + strenuous endeavours to—as the lawyers say—to have and to hold + Henry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course they have, my dear,’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have persisted in every possible objection, and have worried myself + morning, noon, and night, for means to detach Henry from the connection.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt you have, my dear,’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘And all of no use. All has broken down beneath me. Now tell me, my love. + Am I justified in at last yielding my most reluctant consent to Henry’s + marrying among people not in Society; or, have I acted with inexcusable + weakness?’ + </p> + <p> + In answer to this direct appeal, Mrs Merdle assured Mrs Gowan (speaking as + a Priestess of Society) that she was highly to be commended, that she was + much to be sympathised with, that she had taken the highest of parts, and + had come out of the furnace refined. And Mrs Gowan, who of course saw + through her own threadbare blind perfectly, and who knew that Mrs Merdle + saw through it perfectly, and who knew that Society would see through it + perfectly, came out of this form, notwithstanding, as she had gone into + it, with immense complacency and gravity. + </p> + <p> + The conference was held at four or five o’clock in the afternoon, when all + the region of Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was resonant of + carriage-wheels and double-knocks. It had reached this point when Mr + Merdle came home from his daily occupation of causing the British name to + be more and more respected in all parts of the civilised globe capable of + the appreciation of world-wide commercial enterprise and gigantic + combinations of skill and capital. For, though nobody knew with the least + precision what Mr Merdle’s business was, except that it was to coin money, + these were the terms in which everybody defined it on all ceremonious + occasions, and which it was the last new polite reading of the parable of + the camel and the needle’s eye to accept without inquiry. + </p> + <p> + For a gentleman who had this splendid work cut out for him, Mr Merdle + looked a little common, and rather as if, in the course of his vast + transactions, he had accidentally made an interchange of heads with some + inferior spirit. He presented himself before the two ladies in the course + of a dismal stroll through his mansion, which had no apparent object but + escape from the presence of the chief butler. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, stopping short in confusion; ‘I didn’t know + there was anybody here but the parrot.’ + </p> + <p> + However, as Mrs Merdle said, ‘You can come in!’ and as Mrs Gowan said she + was just going, and had already risen to take her leave, he came in, and + stood looking out at a distant window, with his hands crossed under his + uneasy coat-cuffs, clasping his wrists as if he were taking himself into + custody. In this attitude he fell directly into a reverie from which he + was only aroused by his wife’s calling to him from her ottoman, when they + had been for some quarter of an hour alone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh? Yes?’ said Mr Merdle, turning towards her. ‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it?’ repeated Mrs Merdle. ‘It is, I suppose, that you have not + heard a word of my complaint.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your complaint, Mrs Merdle?’ said Mr Merdle. ‘I didn’t know that you were + suffering from a complaint. What complaint?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A complaint of you,’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! A complaint of me,’ said Mr Merdle. ‘What is the—what have I—what + may you have to complain of in me, Mrs Merdle?’ + </p> + <p> + In his withdrawing, abstracted, pondering way, it took him some time to + shape this question. As a kind of faint attempt to convince himself that + he was the master of the house, he concluded by presenting his forefinger + to the parrot, who expressed his opinion on that subject by instantly + driving his bill into it. + </p> + <p> + ‘You were saying, Mrs Merdle,’ said Mr Merdle, with his wounded finger in + his mouth, ‘that you had a complaint against me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A complaint which I could scarcely show the justice of more emphatically, + than by having to repeat it,’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘I might as well have + stated it to the wall. I had far better have stated it to the bird. He + would at least have screamed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t want me to scream, Mrs Merdle, I suppose,’ said Mr Merdle, + taking a chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed I don’t know,’ retorted Mrs Merdle, ‘but that you had better do + that, than be so moody and distraught. One would at least know that you + were sensible of what was going on around you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A man might scream, and yet not be that, Mrs Merdle,’ said Mr Merdle, + heavily. + </p> + <p> + ‘And might be dogged, as you are at present, without screaming,’ returned + Mrs Merdle. ‘That’s very true. If you wish to know the complaint I make + against you, it is, in so many plain words, that you really ought not to + go into Society unless you can accommodate yourself to Society.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle, so twisting his hands into what hair he had upon his head that + he seemed to lift himself up by it as he started out of his chair, cried: + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, in the name of all the infernal powers, Mrs Merdle, who does more + for Society than I do? Do you see these premises, Mrs Merdle? Do you see + this furniture, Mrs Merdle? Do you look in the glass and see yourself, Mrs + Merdle? Do you know the cost of all this, and who it’s all provided for? + And yet will you tell me that I oughtn’t to go into Society? I, who shower + money upon it in this way? I, who might always be said—to—to—to + harness myself to a watering-cart full of money, and go about saturating + Society every day of my life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, don’t be violent, Mr Merdle,’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Violent?’ said Mr Merdle. ‘You are enough to make me desperate. You don’t + know half of what I do to accommodate Society. You don’t know anything of + the sacrifices I make for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know,’ returned Mrs Merdle, ‘that you receive the best in the land. I + know that you move in the whole Society of the country. And I believe I + know (indeed, not to make any ridiculous pretence about it, I know I know) + who sustains you in it, Mr Merdle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle,’ retorted that gentleman, wiping his dull red and yellow + face, ‘I know that as well as you do. If you were not an ornament to + Society, and if I was not a benefactor to Society, you and I would never + have come together. When I say a benefactor to it, I mean a person who + provides it with all sorts of expensive things to eat and drink and look + at. But, to tell me that I am not fit for it after all I have done for it—after + all I have done for it,’ repeated Mr Merdle, with a wild emphasis that + made his wife lift up her eyelids, ‘after all—all!—to tell me + I have no right to mix with it after all, is a pretty reward.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I say,’ answered Mrs Merdle composedly, ‘that you ought to make yourself + fit for it by being more degage, and less preoccupied. There is a positive + vulgarity in carrying your business affairs about with you as you do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do I carry them about, Mrs Merdle?’ asked Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you carry them about?’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘Look at yourself in the + glass.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle involuntarily turned his eyes in the direction of the nearest + mirror, and asked, with a slow determination of his turbid blood to his + temples, whether a man was to be called to account for his digestion? + </p> + <p> + ‘You have a physician,’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘He does me no good,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle changed her ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘Besides,’ said she, ‘your digestion is nonsense. I don’t speak of your + digestion. I speak of your manner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle,’ returned her husband, ‘I look to you for that. You supply + manner, and I supply money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t expect you,’ said Mrs Merdle, reposing easily among her cushions, + ‘to captivate people. I don’t want you to take any trouble upon yourself, + or to try to be fascinating. I simply request you to care about nothing—or + seem to care about nothing—as everybody else does.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I ever say I care about anything?’ asked Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Say? No! Nobody would attend to you if you did. But you show it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Show what? What do I show?’ demanded Mr Merdle hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have already told you. You show that you carry your business cares an + projects about, instead of leaving them in the City, or wherever else they + belong to,’ said Mrs Merdle. ‘Or seeming to. Seeming would be quite + enough: I ask no more. Whereas you couldn’t be more occupied with your + day’s calculations and combinations than you habitually show yourself to + be, if you were a carpenter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A carpenter!’ repeated Mr Merdle, checking something like a groan. ‘I + shouldn’t so much mind being a carpenter, Mrs Merdle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And my complaint is,’ pursued the lady, disregarding the low remark, + ‘that it is not the tone of Society, and that you ought to correct it, Mr + Merdle. If you have any doubt of my judgment, ask even Edmund Sparkler.’ + The door of the room had opened, and Mrs Merdle now surveyed the head of + her son through her glass. ‘Edmund; we want you here.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler, who had merely put in his head and looked round the room + without entering (as if he were searching the house for that young lady + with no nonsense about her), upon this followed up his head with his body, + and stood before them. To whom, in a few easy words adapted to his + capacity, Mrs Merdle stated the question at issue. + </p> + <p> + The young gentleman, after anxiously feeling his shirt-collar as if it + were his pulse and he were hypochondriacal, observed, ‘That he had heard + it noticed by fellers.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund Sparkler has heard it noticed,’ said Mrs Merdle, with languid + triumph. ‘Why, no doubt everybody has heard it noticed!’ Which in truth + was no unreasonable inference; seeing that Mr Sparkler would probably be + the last person, in any assemblage of the human species, to receive an + impression from anything that passed in his presence. + </p> + <p> + ‘And Edmund Sparkler will tell you, I dare say,’ said Mrs Merdle, waving + her favourite hand towards her husband, ‘how he has heard it noticed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I couldn’t,’ said Mr Sparkler, after feeling his pulse as before, + ‘couldn’t undertake to say what led to it—‘cause memory desperate + loose. But being in company with the brother of a doosed fine gal—well + educated too—with no biggodd nonsense about her—at the period + alluded to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There! Never mind the sister,’ remarked Mrs Merdle, a little impatiently. + ‘What did the brother say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Didn’t say a word, ma’am,’ answered Mr Sparkler. ‘As silent a feller as + myself. Equally hard up for a remark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Somebody said something,’ returned Mrs Merdle. ‘Never mind who it was.’ + </p> + <p> + (‘Assure you I don’t in the least,’ said Mr Sparkler.) + </p> + <p> + ‘But tell us what it was.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler referred to his pulse again, and put himself through some + severe mental discipline before he replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘Fellers referring to my Governor—expression not my own—occasionally + compliment my Governor in a very handsome way on being immensely rich and + knowing—perfect phenomenon of Buyer and Banker and that—but + say the Shop sits heavily on him. Say he carried the Shop about, on his + back rather—like Jew clothesmen with too much business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Which,’ said Mrs Merdle, rising, with her floating drapery about her, ‘is + exactly my complaint. Edmund, give me your arm up-stairs.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle, left alone to meditate on a better conformation of himself to + Society, looked out of nine windows in succession, and appeared to see + nine wastes of space. When he had thus entertained himself he went + down-stairs, and looked intently at all the carpets on the ground-floor; + and then came up-stairs again, and looked intently at all the carpets on + the first-floor; as if they were gloomy depths, in unison with his + oppressed soul. Through all the rooms he wandered, as he always did, like + the last person on earth who had any business to approach them. Let Mrs + Merdle announce, with all her might, that she was at Home ever so many + nights in a season, she could not announce more widely and unmistakably + than Mr Merdle did that he was never at home. + </p> + <p> + At last he met the chief butler, the sight of which splendid retainer + always finished him. Extinguished by this great creature, he sneaked to + his dressing-room, and there remained shut up until he rode out to dinner, + with Mrs Merdle, in her own handsome chariot. At dinner, he was envied and + flattered as a being of might, was Treasuried, Barred, and Bishoped, as + much as he would; and an hour after midnight came home alone, and being + instantly put out again in his own hall, like a rushlight, by the chief + butler, went sighing to bed. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0034"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 34. A Shoal of Barnacles + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>r Henry Gowan and the dog were established frequenters of the cottage, + and the day was fixed for the wedding. There was to be a convocation of + Barnacles on the occasion, in order that that very high and very large + family might shed as much lustre on the marriage as so dim an event was + capable of receiving. + </p> + <p> + To have got the whole Barnacle family together would have been impossible + for two reasons. Firstly, because no building could have held all the + members and connections of that illustrious house. Secondly, because + wherever there was a square yard of ground in British occupation under the + sun or moon, with a public post upon it, sticking to that post was a + Barnacle. No intrepid navigator could plant a flag-staff upon any spot of + earth, and take possession of it in the British name, but to that spot of + earth, so soon as the discovery was known, the Circumlocution Office sent + out a Barnacle and a despatch-box. Thus the Barnacles were all over the + world, in every direction—despatch-boxing the compass. + </p> + <p> + But, while the so-potent art of Prospero himself would have failed in + summoning the Barnacles from every speck of ocean and dry land on which + there was nothing (except mischief) to be done and anything to be + pocketed, it was perfectly feasible to assemble a good many Barnacles. + This Mrs Gowan applied herself to do; calling on Mr Meagles frequently + with new additions to the list, and holding conferences with that + gentleman when he was not engaged (as he generally was at this period) in + examining and paying the debts of his future son-in-law, in the apartment + of scales and scoop. + </p> + <p> + One marriage guest there was, in reference to whose presence Mr Meagles + felt a nearer interest and concern than in the attendance of the most + elevated Barnacle expected; though he was far from insensible of the + honour of having such company. This guest was Clennam. But Clennam had + made a promise he held sacred, among the trees that summer night, and, in + the chivalry of his heart, regarded it as binding him to many implied + obligations. In forgetfulness of himself, and delicate service to her on + all occasions, he was never to fail; to begin it, he answered Mr Meagles + cheerfully, ‘I shall come, of course.’ + </p> + <p> + His partner, Daniel Doyce, was something of a stumbling-block in Mr + Meagles’s way, the worthy gentleman being not at all clear in his own + anxious mind but that the mingling of Daniel with official Barnacleism + might produce some explosive combination, even at a marriage breakfast. + The national offender, however, lightened him of his uneasiness by coming + down to Twickenham to represent that he begged, with the freedom of an old + friend, and as a favour to one, that he might not be invited. ‘For,’ said + he, ‘as my business with this set of gentlemen was to do a public duty and + a public service, and as their business with me was to prevent it by + wearing my soul out, I think we had better not eat and drink together with + a show of being of one mind.’ Mr Meagles was much amused by his friend’s + oddity; and patronised him with a more protecting air of allowance than + usual, when he rejoined: ‘Well, well, Dan, you shall have your own + crotchety way.’ + </p> + <p> + To Mr Henry Gowan, as the time approached, Clennam tried to convey by all + quiet and unpretending means, that he was frankly and disinterestedly + desirous of tendering him any friendship he would accept. Mr Gowan treated + him in return with his usual ease, and with his usual show of confidence, + which was no confidence at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see, Clennam,’ he happened to remark in the course of conversation + one day, when they were walking near the Cottage within a week of the + marriage, ‘I am a disappointed man. That you know already.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word,’ said Clennam, a little embarrassed, ‘I scarcely know how.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why,’ returned Gowan, ‘I belong to a clan, or a clique, or a family, or a + connection, or whatever you like to call it, that might have provided for + me in any one of fifty ways, and that took it into its head not to do it + at all. So here I am, a poor devil of an artist.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam was beginning, ‘But on the other hand—’ when Gowan took him + up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, I know. I have the good fortune of being beloved by a beautiful + and charming girl whom I love with all my heart.’ + </p> + <p> + (‘Is there much of it?’ Clennam thought. And as he thought it, felt + ashamed of himself.) + </p> + <p> + ‘And of finding a father-in-law who is a capital fellow and a liberal good + old boy. Still, I had other prospects washed and combed into my childish + head when it was washed and combed for me, and I took them to a public + school when I washed and combed it for myself, and I am here without them, + and thus I am a disappointed man.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam thought (and as he thought it, again felt ashamed of himself), was + this notion of being disappointed in life, an assertion of station which + the bridegroom brought into the family as his property, having already + carried it detrimentally into his pursuit? And was it a hopeful or a + promising thing anywhere? + </p> + <p> + ‘Not bitterly disappointed, I think,’ he said aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hang it, no; not bitterly,’ laughed Gowan. ‘My people are not worth that—though + they are charming fellows, and I have the greatest affection for them. + Besides, it’s pleasant to show them that I can do without them, and that + they may all go to the Devil. And besides, again, most men are + disappointed in life, somehow or other, and influenced by their + disappointment. But it’s a dear good world, and I love it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It lies fair before you now,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fair as this summer river,’ cried the other, with enthusiasm, ‘and by + Jove I glow with admiration of it, and with ardour to run a race in it. + It’s the best of old worlds! And my calling! The best of old callings, + isn’t it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Full of interest and ambition, I conceive,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘And imposition,’ added Gowan, laughing; ‘we won’t leave out the + imposition. I hope I may not break down in that; but there, my being a + disappointed man may show itself. I may not be able to face it out gravely + enough. Between you and me, I think there is some danger of my being just + enough soured not to be able to do that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To do what?’ asked Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘To keep it up. To help myself in my turn, as the man before me helps + himself in his, and pass the bottle of smoke. To keep up the pretence as + to labour, and study, and patience, and being devoted to my art, and + giving up many solitary days to it, and abandoning many pleasures for it, + and living in it, and all the rest of it—in short, to pass the + bottle of smoke according to rule.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But it is well for a man to respect his own vocation, whatever it is; and + to think himself bound to uphold it, and to claim for it the respect it + deserves; is it not?’ Arthur reasoned. ‘And your vocation, Gowan, may + really demand this suit and service. I confess I should have thought that + all Art did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a good fellow you are, Clennam!’ exclaimed the other, stopping to + look at him, as if with irrepressible admiration. ‘What a capital fellow! + <i>You</i> have never been disappointed. That’s easy to see.’ + </p> + <p> + It would have been so cruel if he had meant it, that Clennam firmly + resolved to believe he did not mean it. Gowan, without pausing, laid his + hand upon his shoulder, and laughingly and lightly went on: + </p> + <p> + ‘Clennam, I don’t like to dispel your generous visions, and I would give + any money (if I had any), to live in such a rose-coloured mist. But what I + do in my trade, I do to sell. What all we fellows do, we do to sell. If we + didn’t want to sell it for the most we can get for it, we shouldn’t do it. + Being work, it has to be done; but it’s easily enough done. All the rest + is hocus-pocus. Now here’s one of the advantages, or disadvantages, of + knowing a disappointed man. You hear the truth.’ + </p> + <p> + Whatever he had heard, and whether it deserved that name or another, it + sank into Clennam’s mind. It so took root there, that he began to fear + Henry Gowan would always be a trouble to him, and that so far he had + gained little or nothing from the dismissal of Nobody, with all his + inconsistencies, anxieties, and contradictions. He found a contest still + always going on in his breast between his promise to keep Gowan in none + but good aspects before the mind of Mr Meagles, and his enforced + observation of Gowan in aspects that had no good in them. Nor could he + quite support his own conscientious nature against misgivings that he + distorted and discoloured himself, by reminding himself that he never + sought those discoveries, and that he would have avoided them with + willingness and great relief. For he never could forget what he had been; + and he knew that he had once disliked Gowan for no better reason than that + he had come in his way. + </p> + <p> + Harassed by these thoughts, he now began to wish the marriage over, Gowan + and his young wife gone, and himself left to fulfil his promise, and + discharge the generous function he had accepted. This last week was, in + truth, an uneasy interval for the whole house. Before Pet, or before + Gowan, Mr Meagles was radiant; but Clennam had more than once found him + alone, with his view of the scales and scoop much blurred, and had often + seen him look after the lovers, in the garden or elsewhere when he was not + seen by them, with the old clouded face on which Gowan had fallen like a + shadow. In the arrangement of the house for the great occasion, many + little reminders of the old travels of the father and mother and daughter + had to be disturbed and passed from hand to hand; and sometimes, in the + midst of these mute witnesses, to the life they had had together, even Pet + herself would yield to lamenting and weeping. Mrs Meagles, the blithest + and busiest of mothers, went about singing and cheering everybody; but + she, honest soul, had her flights into store rooms, where she would cry + until her eyes were red, and would then come out, attributing that + appearance to pickled onions and pepper, and singing clearer than ever. + Mrs Tickit, finding no balsam for a wounded mind in Buchan’s Domestic + Medicine, suffered greatly from low spirits, and from moving recollections + of Minnie’s infancy. When the latter was powerful with her, she usually + sent up secret messages importing that she was not in parlour condition as + to her attire, and that she solicited a sight of ‘her child’ in the + kitchen; there, she would bless her child’s face, and bless her child’s + heart, and hug her child, in a medley of tears and congratulations, + chopping-boards, rolling-pins, and pie-crust, with the tenderness of an + old attached servant, which is a very pretty tenderness indeed. + </p> + <p> + But all days come that are to be; and the marriage-day was to be, and it + came; and with it came all the Barnacles who were bidden to the feast. + </p> + <p> + There was Mr Tite Barnacle, from the Circumlocution Office, and Mews + Street, Grosvenor Square, with the expensive Mrs Tite Barnacle <i>nee</i> + Stiltstalking, who made the Quarter Days so long in coming, and the three + expensive Miss Tite Barnacles, double-loaded with accomplishments and + ready to go off, and yet not going off with the sharpness of flash and + bang that might have been expected, but rather hanging fire. There was + Barnacle junior, also from the Circumlocution Office, leaving the Tonnage + of the country, which he was somehow supposed to take under his + protection, to look after itself, and, sooth to say, not at all impairing + the efficiency of its protection by leaving it alone. There was the + engaging Young Barnacle, deriving from the sprightly side of the family, + also from the Circumlocution Office, gaily and agreeably helping the + occasion along, and treating it, in his sparkling way, as one of the + official forms and fees of the Church Department of How not to do it. + There were three other Young Barnacles from three other offices, insipid + to all the senses, and terribly in want of seasoning, doing the marriage + as they would have ‘done’ the Nile, Old Rome, the new singer, or + Jerusalem. + </p> + <p> + But there was greater game than this. There was Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle + himself, in the odour of Circumlocution—with the very smell of + Despatch-Boxes upon him. Yes, there was Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle, who + had risen to official heights on the wings of one indignant idea, and that + was, My Lords, that I am yet to be told that it behoves a Minister of this + free country to set bounds to the philanthropy, to cramp the charity, to + fetter the public spirit, to contract the enterprise, to damp the + independent self-reliance, of its people. That was, in other words, that + this great statesman was always yet to be told that it behoved the Pilot + of the ship to do anything but prosper in the private loaf and fish trade + ashore, the crew being able, by dint of hard pumping, to keep the ship + above water without him. On this sublime discovery in the great art How + not to do it, Lord Decimus had long sustained the highest glory of the + Barnacle family; and let any ill-advised member of either House but try + How to do it by bringing in a Bill to do it, that Bill was as good as dead + and buried when Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle rose up in his place and + solemnly said, soaring into indignant majesty as the Circumlocution + cheering soared around him, that he was yet to be told, My Lords, that it + behoved him as the Minister of this free country, to set bounds to the + philanthropy, to cramp the charity, to fetter the public spirit, to + contract the enterprise, to damp the independent self-reliance, of its + people. The discovery of this Behoving Machine was the discovery of the + political perpetual motion. It never wore out, though it was always going + round and round in all the State Departments. + </p> + <p> + And there, with his noble friend and relative Lord Decimus, was William + Barnacle, who had made the ever-famous coalition with Tudor Stiltstalking, + and who always kept ready his own particular recipe for How not to do it; + sometimes tapping the Speaker, and drawing it fresh out of him, with a + ‘First, I will beg you, sir, to inform the House what Precedent we have + for the course into which the honourable gentleman would precipitate us;’ + sometimes asking the honourable gentleman to favour him with his own + version of the Precedent; sometimes telling the honourable gentleman that + he (William Barnacle) would search for a Precedent; and oftentimes + crushing the honourable gentleman flat on the spot by telling him there + was no Precedent. But Precedent and Precipitate were, under all + circumstances, the well-matched pair of battle-horses of this able + Circumlocutionist. No matter that the unhappy honourable gentleman had + been trying in vain, for twenty-five years, to precipitate William + Barnacle into this—William Barnacle still put it to the House, and + (at second-hand or so) to the country, whether he was to be precipitated + into this. No matter that it was utterly irreconcilable with the nature of + things and course of events that the wretched honourable gentleman could + possibly produce a Precedent for this—William Barnacle would + nevertheless thank the honourable gentleman for that ironical cheer, and + would close with him upon that issue, and would tell him to his teeth that + there Was NO Precedent for this. It might perhaps have been objected that + the William Barnacle wisdom was not high wisdom or the earth it bamboozled + would never have been made, or, if made in a rash mistake, would have + remained blank mud. But Precedent and Precipitate together frightened all + objection out of most people. + </p> + <p> + And there, too, was another Barnacle, a lively one, who had leaped through + twenty places in quick succession, and was always in two or three at once, + and who was the much-respected inventor of an art which he practised with + great success and admiration in all Barnacle Governments. This was, when + he was asked a Parliamentary question on any one topic, to return an + answer on any other. It had done immense service, and brought him into + high esteem with the Circumlocution Office. + </p> + <p> + And there, too, was a sprinkling of less distinguished Parliamentary + Barnacles, who had not as yet got anything snug, and were going through + their probation to prove their worthiness. These Barnacles perched upon + staircases and hid in passages, waiting their orders to make houses or not + to make houses; and they did all their hearing, and ohing, and cheering, + and barking, under directions from the heads of the family; and they put + dummy motions on the paper in the way of other men’s motions; and they + stalled disagreeable subjects off until late in the night and late in the + session, and then with virtuous patriotism cried out that it was too late; + and they went down into the country, whenever they were sent, and swore + that Lord Decimus had revived trade from a swoon, and commerce from a fit, + and had doubled the harvest of corn, quadrupled the harvest of hay, and + prevented no end of gold from flying out of the Bank. Also these Barnacles + were dealt, by the heads of the family, like so many cards below the + court-cards, to public meetings and dinners; where they bore testimony to + all sorts of services on the part of their noble and honourable relatives, + and buttered the Barnacles on all sorts of toasts. And they stood, under + similar orders, at all sorts of elections; and they turned out of their + own seats, on the shortest notice and the most unreasonable terms, to let + in other men; and they fetched and carried, and toadied and jobbed, and + corrupted, and ate heaps of dirt, and were indefatigable in the public + service. And there was not a list, in all the Circumlocution Office, of + places that might fall vacant anywhere within half a century, from a lord + of the Treasury to a Chinese consul, and up again to a governor-general of + India, but as applicants for such places, the names of some or of every + one of these hungry and adhesive Barnacles were down. + </p> + <p> + It was necessarily but a sprinkling of any class of Barnacles that + attended the marriage, for there were not two score in all, and what is + that subtracted from Legion! But the sprinkling was a swarm in the + Twickenham cottage, and filled it. A Barnacle (assisted by a Barnacle) + married the happy pair, and it behoved Lord Decimus Tite Barnacle himself + to conduct Mrs Meagles to breakfast. + </p> + <p> + The entertainment was not as agreeable and natural as it might have been. + Mr Meagles, hove down by his good company while he highly appreciated it, + was not himself. Mrs Gowan was herself, and that did not improve him. The + fiction that it was not Mr Meagles who had stood in the way, but that it + was the Family greatness, and that the Family greatness had made a + concession, and there was now a soothing unanimity, pervaded the affair, + though it was never openly expressed. Then the Barnacles felt that they + for their parts would have done with the Meagleses when the present + patronising occasion was over; and the Meagleses felt the same for their + parts. Then Gowan asserting his rights as a disappointed man who had his + grudge against the family, and who, perhaps, had allowed his mother to + have them there, as much in the hope it might give them some annoyance as + with any other benevolent object, aired his pencil and his poverty + ostentatiously before them, and told them he hoped in time to settle a + crust of bread and cheese on his wife, and that he begged such of them as + (more fortunate than himself) came in for any good thing, and could buy a + picture, to please to remember the poor painter. Then Lord Decimus, who + was a wonder on his own Parliamentary pedestal, turned out to be the + windiest creature here: proposing happiness to the bride and bridegroom in + a series of platitudes that would have made the hair of any sincere + disciple and believer stand on end; and trotting, with the complacency of + an idiotic elephant, among howling labyrinths of sentences which he seemed + to take for high roads, and never so much as wanted to get out of. Then Mr + Tite Barnacle could not but feel that there was a person in company, who + would have disturbed his life-long sitting to Sir Thomas Lawrence in full + official character, if such disturbance had been possible: while Barnacle + junior did, with indignation, communicate to two vapid gentlemen, his + relatives, that there was a feller here, look here, who had come to our + Department without an appointment and said he wanted to know, you know; + and that, look here, if he was to break out now, as he might you know (for + you never could tell what an ungentlemanly Radical of that sort would be + up to next), and was to say, look here, that he wanted to know this + moment, you know, that would be jolly; wouldn’t it? + </p> + <p> + The pleasantest part of the occasion by far, to Clennam, was the + painfullest. When Mr and Mrs Meagles at last hung about Pet in the room + with the two pictures (where the company were not), before going with her + to the threshold which she could never recross to be the old Pet and the + old delight, nothing could be more natural and simple than the three were. + Gowan himself was touched, and answered Mr Meagles’s ‘O Gowan, take care + of her, take care of her!’ with an earnest ‘Don’t be so broken-hearted, + sir. By Heaven I will!’ + </p> + <p> + And so, with the last sobs and last loving words, and a last look to + Clennam of confidence in his promise, Pet fell back in the carriage, and + her husband waved his hand, and they were away for Dover; though not until + the faithful Mrs Tickit, in her silk gown and jet black curls, had rushed + out from some hiding-place, and thrown both her shoes after the carriage: + an apparition which occasioned great surprise to the distinguished company + at the windows. + </p> + <p> + The said company being now relieved from further attendance, and the chief + Barnacles being rather hurried (for they had it in hand just then to send + a mail or two which was in danger of going straight to its destination, + beating about the seas like the Flying Dutchman, and to arrange with + complexity for the stoppage of a good deal of important business otherwise + in peril of being done), went their several ways; with all affability + conveying to Mr and Mrs Meagles that general assurance that what they had + been doing there, they had been doing at a sacrifice for Mr and Mrs + Meagles’s good, which they always conveyed to Mr John Bull in their + official condescension to that most unfortunate creature. + </p> + <p> + A miserable blank remained in the house and in the hearts of the father + and mother and Clennam. Mr Meagles called only one remembrance to his aid, + that really did him good. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s very gratifying, Arthur,’ he said, ‘after all, to look back upon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The past?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes—but I mean the company.’ + </p> + <p> + It had made him much more low and unhappy at the time, but now it really + did him good. ‘It’s very gratifying,’ he said, often repeating the remark + in the course of the evening. ‘Such high company!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0035"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 35. What was behind Mr Pancks on Little Dorrit’s Hand + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was at this time that Mr Pancks, in discharge of his compact with + Clennam, revealed to him the whole of his gipsy story, and told him Little + Dorrit’s fortune. Her father was heir-at-law to a great estate that had + long lain unknown of, unclaimed, and accumulating. His right was now + clear, nothing interposed in his way, the Marshalsea gates stood open, the + Marshalsea walls were down, a few flourishes of his pen, and he was + extremely rich. + </p> + <p> + In his tracking out of the claim to its complete establishment, Mr Pancks + had shown a sagacity that nothing could baffle, and a patience and secrecy + that nothing could tire. ‘I little thought, sir,’ said Pancks, ‘when you + and I crossed Smithfield that night, and I told you what sort of a + Collector I was, that this would come of it. I little thought, sir, when I + told you you were not of the Clennams of Cornwall, that I was ever going + to tell you who were of the Dorrits of Dorsetshire.’ He then went on to + detail. How, having that name recorded in his note-book, he was first + attracted by the name alone. How, having often found two exactly similar + names, even belonging to the same place, to involve no traceable + consanguinity, near or distant, he did not at first give much heed to + this, except in the way of speculation as to what a surprising change + would be made in the condition of a little seamstress, if she could be + shown to have any interest in so large a property. How he rather supposed + himself to have pursued the idea into its next degree, because there was + something uncommon in the quiet little seamstress, which pleased him and + provoked his curiosity. How he had felt his way inch by inch, and ‘Moled + it out, sir’ (that was Mr Pancks’s expression), grain by grain. How, in + the beginning of the labour described by this new verb, and to render + which the more expressive Mr Pancks shut his eyes in pronouncing it and + shook his hair over them, he had alternated from sudden lights and hopes + to sudden darkness and no hopes, and back again, and back again. How he + had made acquaintances in the Prison, expressly that he might come and go + there as all other comers and goers did; and how his first ray of light + was unconsciously given him by Mr Dorrit himself and by his son; to both + of whom he easily became known; with both of whom he talked much, casually + (‘but always Moleing you’ll observe,’ said Mr Pancks): and from whom he + derived, without being at all suspected, two or three little points of + family history which, as he began to hold clues of his own, suggested + others. How it had at length become plain to Mr Pancks that he had made a + real discovery of the heir-at-law to a great fortune, and that his + discovery had but to be ripened to legal fulness and perfection. How he + had, thereupon, sworn his landlord, Mr Rugg, to secrecy in a solemn + manner, and taken him into Moleing partnership. How they had employed John + Chivery as their sole clerk and agent, seeing to whom he was devoted. And + how, until the present hour, when authorities mighty in the Bank and + learned in the law declared their successful labours ended, they had + confided in no other human being. + </p> + <p> + ‘So if the whole thing had broken down, sir,’ concluded Pancks, ‘at the + very last, say the day before the other day when I showed you our papers + in the Prison yard, or say that very day, nobody but ourselves would have + been cruelly disappointed, or a penny the worse.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam, who had been almost incessantly shaking hands with him throughout + the narrative, was reminded by this to say, in an amazement which even the + preparation he had had for the main disclosure smoothed down, ‘My dear Mr + Pancks, this must have cost you a great sum of money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pretty well, sir,’ said the triumphant Pancks. ‘No trifle, though we did + it as cheap as it could be done. And the outlay was a difficulty, let me + tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A difficulty!’ repeated Clennam. ‘But the difficulties you have so + wonderfully conquered in the whole business!’ shaking his hand again. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you how I did it,’ said the delighted Pancks, putting his hair + into a condition as elevated as himself. ‘First, I spent all I had of my + own. That wasn’t much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry for it,’ said Clennam: ‘not that it matters now, though. Then, + what did you do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then,’ answered Pancks, ‘I borrowed a sum of my proprietor.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of Mr Casby?’ said Clennam. ‘He’s a fine old fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Noble old boy; an’t he?’ said Mr Pancks, entering on a series of the + dryest snorts. ‘Generous old buck. Confiding old boy. Philanthropic old + buck. Benevolent old boy! Twenty per cent. I engaged to pay him, sir. But + we never do business for less at our shop.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur felt an awkward consciousness of having, in his exultant condition, + been a little premature. + </p> + <p> + ‘I said to that boiling-over old Christian,’ Mr Pancks pursued, appearing + greatly to relish this descriptive epithet, ‘that I had got a little + project on hand; a hopeful one; I told him a hopeful one; which wanted a + certain small capital. I proposed to him to lend me the money on my note. + Which he did, at twenty; sticking the twenty on in a business-like way, + and putting it into the note, to look like a part of the principal. If I + had broken down after that, I should have been his grubber for the next + seven years at half wages and double grind. But he’s a perfect Patriarch; + and it would do a man good to serve him on such terms—on any terms.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur for his life could not have said with confidence whether Pancks + really thought so or not. + </p> + <p> + ‘When that was gone, sir,’ resumed Pancks, ‘and it did go, though I + dribbled it out like so much blood, I had taken Mr Rugg into the secret. I + proposed to borrow of Mr Rugg (or of Miss Rugg; it’s the same thing; she + made a little money by a speculation in the Common Pleas once). He lent it + at ten, and thought that pretty high. But Mr Rugg’s a red-haired man, sir, + and gets his hair cut. And as to the crown of his hat, it’s high. And as + to the brim of his hat, it’s narrow. And there’s no more benevolence + bubbling out of him, than out of a ninepin.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your own recompense for all this, Mr Pancks,’ said Clennam, ‘ought to be + a large one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t mistrust getting it, sir,’ said Pancks. ‘I have made no bargain. + I owed you one on that score; now I have paid it. Money out of pocket made + good, time fairly allowed for, and Mr Rugg’s bill settled, a thousand + pounds would be a fortune to me. That matter I place in your hands. I + authorize you now to break all this to the family in any way you think + best. Miss Amy Dorrit will be with Mrs Finching this morning. The sooner + done the better. Can’t be done too soon.’ + </p> + <p> + This conversation took place in Clennam’s bed-room, while he was yet in + bed. For Mr Pancks had knocked up the house and made his way in, very + early in the morning; and, without once sitting down or standing still, + had delivered himself of the whole of his details (illustrated with a + variety of documents) at the bedside. He now said he would ‘go and look up + Mr Rugg’, from whom his excited state of mind appeared to require another + back; and bundling up his papers, and exchanging one more hearty shake of + the hand with Clennam, he went at full speed down-stairs, and steamed off. + </p> + <p> + Clennam, of course, resolved to go direct to Mr Casby’s. He dressed and + got out so quickly that he found himself at the corner of the patriarchal + street nearly an hour before her time; but he was not sorry to have the + opportunity of calming himself with a leisurely walk. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to the street, and had knocked at the bright brass + knocker, he was informed that she had come, and was shown up-stairs to + Flora’s breakfast-room. Little Dorrit was not there herself, but Flora + was, and testified the greatest amazement at seeing him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious, Arthur—Doyce and Clennam!’ cried that lady, ‘who + would have ever thought of seeing such a sight as this and pray excuse a + wrapper for upon my word I really never and a faded check too which is + worse but our little friend is making me, not that I need mind mentioning + it to you for you must know that there are such things a skirt, and having + arranged that a trying on should take place after breakfast is the reason + though I wish not so badly starched.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ought to make an apology,’ said Arthur, ‘for so early and abrupt a + visit; but you will excuse it when I tell you the cause.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In times for ever fled Arthur,’ returned Mrs Finching, ‘pray excuse me + Doyce and Clennam infinitely more correct and though unquestionably + distant still ‘tis distance lends enchantment to the view, at least I + don’t mean that and if I did I suppose it would depend considerably on the + nature of the view, but I’m running on again and you put it all out of my + head.’ + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him tenderly, and resumed: + </p> + <p> + ‘In times for ever fled I was going to say it would have sounded strange + indeed for Arthur Clennam—Doyce and Clennam naturally quite + different—to make apologies for coming here at any time, but that is + past and what is past can never be recalled except in his own case as poor + Mr F. said when he was in spirits Cucumber and therefore never ate it.’ + </p> + <p> + She was making the tea when Arthur came in, and now hastily finished that + operation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa,’ she said, all mystery and whisper, as she shut down the tea-pot + lid, ‘is sitting prosingly breaking his new laid egg in the back parlour + over the City article exactly like the Woodpecker Tapping and need never + know that you are here, and our little friend you are well aware may be + fully trusted when she comes down from cutting out on the large table + overhead.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur then told her, in the fewest words, that it was their little friend + he came to see; and what he had to announce to their little friend. At + which astounding intelligence, Flora clasped her hands, fell into a + tremble, and shed tears of sympathy and pleasure, like the good-natured + creature she really was. + </p> + <p> + ‘For gracious sake let me get out of the way first,’ said Flora, putting + her hands to her ears and moving towards the door, ‘or I know I shall go + off dead and screaming and make everybody worse, and the dear little thing + only this morning looking so nice and neat and good and yet so poor and + now a fortune is she really and deserves it too! and might I mention it to + Mr F.‘s Aunt Arthur not Doyce and Clennam for this once or if + objectionable not on any account.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur nodded his free permission, since Flora shut out all verbal + communication. Flora nodded in return to thank him, and hurried out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s step was already on the stairs, and in another moment she + was at the door. Do what he could to compose his face, he could not convey + so much of an ordinary expression into it, but that the moment she saw it + she dropped her work, and cried, ‘Mr Clennam! What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing, nothing. That is, no misfortune has happened. I have come to + tell you something, but it is a piece of great good-fortune.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good-fortune?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wonderful fortune!’ + </p> + <p> + They stood in a window, and her eyes, full of light, were fixed upon his + face. He put an arm about her, seeing her likely to sink down. She put a + hand upon that arm, partly to rest upon it, and partly so to preserve + their relative positions as that her intent look at him should be shaken + by no change of attitude in either of them. Her lips seemed to repeat + ‘Wonderful fortune?’ He repeated it again, aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Little Dorrit! Your father.’ + </p> + <p> + The ice of the pale face broke at the word, and little lights and shoots + of expression passed all over it. They were all expressions of pain. Her + breath was faint and hurried. Her heart beat fast. He would have clasped + the little figure closer, but he saw that the eyes appealed to him not to + be moved. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your father can be free within this week. He does not know it; we must go + to him from here, to tell him of it. Your father will be free within a few + days. Your father will be free within a few hours. Remember we must go to + him from here, to tell him of it!’ + </p> + <p> + That brought her back. Her eyes were closing, but they opened again. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is not all the good-fortune. This is not all the wonderful + good-fortune, my dear Little Dorrit. Shall I tell you more?’ + </p> + <p> + Her lips shaped ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your father will be no beggar when he is free. He will want for nothing. + Shall I tell you more? Remember! He knows nothing of it; we must go to + him, from here, to tell him of it!’ + </p> + <p> + She seemed to entreat him for a little time. He held her in his arm, and, + after a pause, bent down his ear to listen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ask me to go on?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He will be a rich man. He is a rich man. A great sum of money is waiting + to be paid over to him as his inheritance; you are all henceforth very + wealthy. Bravest and best of children, I thank Heaven that you are + rewarded!’ + </p> + <p> + As he kissed her, she turned her head towards his shoulder, and raised her + arm towards his neck; cried out ‘Father! Father! Father!’ and swooned + away. + </p> + <p> + Upon which Flora returned to take care of her, and hovered about her on a + sofa, intermingling kind offices and incoherent scraps of conversation in + a manner so confounding, that whether she pressed the Marshalsea to take a + spoonful of unclaimed dividends, for it would do her good; or whether she + congratulated Little Dorrit’s father on coming into possession of a + hundred thousand smelling-bottles; or whether she explained that she put + seventy-five thousand drops of spirits of lavender on fifty thousand + pounds of lump sugar, and that she entreated Little Dorrit to take that + gentle restorative; or whether she bathed the foreheads of Doyce and + Clennam in vinegar, and gave the late Mr F. more air; no one with any + sense of responsibility could have undertaken to decide. A tributary + stream of confusion, moreover, poured in from an adjoining bedroom, where + Mr F.‘s Aunt appeared, from the sound of her voice, to be in a horizontal + posture, awaiting her breakfast; and from which bower that inexorable lady + snapped off short taunts, whenever she could get a hearing, as, ‘Don’t + believe it’s his doing!’ and ‘He needn’t take no credit to himself for + it!’ and ‘It’ll be long enough, I expect, afore he’ll give up any of his + own money!’ all designed to disparage Clennam’s share in the discovery, + and to relieve those inveterate feelings with which Mr F.‘s Aunt regarded + him. + </p> + <p> + But Little Dorrit’s solicitude to get to her father, and to carry the + joyful tidings to him, and not to leave him in his jail a moment with this + happiness in store for him and still unknown to him, did more for her + speedy restoration than all the skill and attention on earth could have + done. ‘Come with me to my dear father. Pray come and tell my dear father!’ + were the first words she said. Her father, her father. She spoke of + nothing but him, thought of nothing but him. Kneeling down and pouring out + her thankfulness with uplifted hands, her thanks were for her father. + </p> + <p> + Flora’s tenderness was quite overcome by this, and she launched out among + the cups and saucers into a wonderful flow of tears and speech. + </p> + <p> + ‘I declare,’ she sobbed, ‘I never was so cut up since your mama and my + papa not Doyce and Clennam for this once but give the precious little + thing a cup of tea and make her put it to her lips at least pray Arthur + do, not even Mr F.‘s last illness for that was of another kind and gout is + not a child’s affection though very painful for all parties and Mr F. a + martyr with his leg upon a rest and the wine trade in itself inflammatory + for they will do it more or less among themselves and who can wonder, it + seems like a dream I am sure to think of nothing at all this morning and + now Mines of money is it really, but you must know my darling love because + you never will be strong enough to tell him all about it upon teaspoons, + mightn’t it be even best to try the directions of my own medical man for + though the flavour is anything but agreeable still I force myself to do it + as a prescription and find the benefit, you’d rather not why no my dear + I’d rather not but still I do it as a duty, everybody will congratulate + you some in earnest and some not and many will congratulate you with all + their hearts but none more so I do assure you from the bottom of my own I + do myself though sensible of blundering and being stupid, and will be + judged by Arthur not Doyce and Clennam for this once so good-bye darling + and God bless you and may you be very happy and excuse the liberty, vowing + that the dress shall never be finished by anybody else but shall be laid + by for a keepsake just as it is and called Little Dorrit though why that + strangest of denominations at any time I never did myself and now I never + shall!’ + </p> + <p> + Thus Flora, in taking leave of her favourite. Little Dorrit thanked her, + and embraced her, over and over again; and finally came out of the house + with Clennam, and took coach for the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + It was a strangely unreal ride through the old squalid streets, with a + sensation of being raised out of them into an airy world of wealth and + grandeur. When Arthur told her that she would soon ride in her own + carriage through very different scenes, when all the familiar experiences + would have vanished away, she looked frightened. But when he substituted + her father for herself, and told her how he would ride in his carriage, + and how great and grand he would be, her tears of joy and innocent pride + fell fast. Seeing that the happiness her mind could realise was all + shining upon him, Arthur kept that single figure before her; and so they + rode brightly through the poor streets in the prison neighbourhood to + carry him the great news. + </p> + <p> + When Mr Chivery, who was on duty, admitted them into the Lodge, he saw + something in their faces which filled him with astonishment. He stood + looking after them, when they hurried into the prison, as though he + perceived that they had come back accompanied by a ghost a-piece. Two or + three Collegians whom they passed, looked after them too, and presently + joining Mr Chivery, formed a little group on the Lodge steps, in the midst + of which there spontaneously originated a whisper that the Father was + going to get his discharge. Within a few minutes, it was heard in the + remotest room in the College. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit opened the door from without, and they both entered. He was + sitting in his old grey gown and his old black cap, in the sunlight by the + window, reading his newspaper. His glasses were in his hand, and he had + just looked round; surprised at first, no doubt, by her step upon the + stairs, not expecting her until night; surprised again, by seeing Arthur + Clennam in her company. As they came in, the same unwonted look in both of + them which had already caught attention in the yard below, struck him. He + did not rise or speak, but laid down his glasses and his newspaper on the + table beside him, and looked at them with his mouth a little open and his + lips trembling. When Arthur put out his hand, he touched it, but not with + his usual state; and then he turned to his daughter, who had sat down + close beside him with her hands upon his shoulder, and looked attentively + in her face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Father! I have been made so happy this morning!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been made so happy, my dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Mr Clennam, father. He brought me such joyful and wonderful + intelligence about you! If he had not with his great kindness and + gentleness, prepared me for it, father—prepared me for it, father—I + think I could not have borne it.’ + </p> + <p> + Her agitation was exceedingly great, and the tears rolled down her face. + He put his hand suddenly to his heart, and looked at Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Compose yourself, sir,’ said Clennam, ‘and take a little time to think. + To think of the brightest and most fortunate accidents of life. We have + all heard of great surprises of joy. They are not at an end, sir. They are + rare, but not at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam? Not at an end? Not at an end for—’ He touched himself + upon the breast, instead of saying ‘me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ returned Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘What surprise,’ he asked, keeping his left hand over his heart, and there + stopping in his speech, while with his right hand he put his glasses + exactly level on the table: ‘what such surprise can be in store for me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let me answer with another question. Tell me, Mr Dorrit, what surprise + would be the most unlooked for and the most acceptable to you. Do not be + afraid to imagine it, or to say what it would be.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked steadfastly at Clennam, and, so looking at him, seemed to change + into a very old haggard man. The sun was bright upon the wall beyond the + window, and on the spikes at top. He slowly stretched out the hand that + had been upon his heart, and pointed at the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is down,’ said Clennam. ‘Gone!’ + </p> + <p> + He remained in the same attitude, looking steadfastly at him. + </p> + <p> + ‘And in its place,’ said Clennam, slowly and distinctly, ‘are the means to + possess and enjoy the utmost that they have so long shut out. Mr Dorrit, + there is not the smallest doubt that within a few days you will be free, + and highly prosperous. I congratulate you with all my soul on this change + of fortune, and on the happy future into which you are soon to carry the + treasure you have been blest with here—the best of all the riches + you can have elsewhere—the treasure at your side.’ + </p> + <p> + With those words, he pressed his hand and released it; and his daughter, + laying her face against his, encircled him in the hour of his prosperity + with her arms, as she had in the long years of his adversity encircled him + with her love and toil and truth; and poured out her full heart in + gratitude, hope, joy, blissful ecstasy, and all for him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall see him as I never saw him yet. I shall see my dear love, with + the dark cloud cleared away. I shall see him, as my poor mother saw him + long ago. O my dear, my dear! O father, father! O thank God, thank God!’ + </p> + <p> + He yielded himself to her kisses and caresses, but did not return them, + except that he put an arm about her. Neither did he say one word. His + steadfast look was now divided between her and Clennam, and he began to + shake as if he were very cold. Explaining to Little Dorrit that he would + run to the coffee-house for a bottle of wine, Arthur fetched it with all + the haste he could use. While it was being brought from the cellar to the + bar, a number of excited people asked him what had happened; when he + hurriedly informed them that Mr Dorrit had succeeded to a fortune. + </p> + <p> + On coming back with the wine in his hand, he found that she had placed her + father in his easy chair, and had loosened his shirt and neckcloth. They + filled a tumbler with wine, and held it to his lips. When he had swallowed + a little, he took the glass himself and emptied it. Soon after that, he + leaned back in his chair and cried, with his handkerchief before his face. + </p> + <p> + After this had lasted a while Clennam thought it a good season for + diverting his attention from the main surprise, by relating its details. + Slowly, therefore, and in a quiet tone of voice, he explained them as best + he could, and enlarged on the nature of Pancks’s service. + </p> + <p> + ‘He shall be—ha—he shall be handsomely recompensed, sir,’ said + the Father, starting up and moving hurriedly about the room. ‘Assure + yourself, Mr Clennam, that everybody concerned shall be—ha—shall + be nobly rewarded. No one, my dear sir, shall say that he has an + unsatisfied claim against me. I shall repay the—hum—the + advances I have had from you, sir, with peculiar pleasure. I beg to be + informed at your earliest convenience, what advances you have made my + son.’ + </p> + <p> + He had no purpose in going about the room, but he was not still a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘Everybody,’ he said, ‘shall be remembered. I will not go away from here + in anybody’s debt. All the people who have been—ha—well + behaved towards myself and my family, shall be rewarded. Chivery shall be + rewarded. Young John shall be rewarded. I particularly wish, and intend, + to act munificently, Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you allow me,’ said Arthur, laying his purse on the table, ‘to + supply any present contingencies, Mr Dorrit? I thought it best to bring a + sum of money for the purpose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir, thank you. I accept with readiness, at the present + moment, what I could not an hour ago have conscientiously taken. I am + obliged to you for the temporary accommodation. Exceedingly temporary, but + well timed—well timed.’ His hand had closed upon the money, and he + carried it about with him. ‘Be so kind, sir, as to add the amount to those + former advances to which I have already referred; being careful, if you + please, not to omit advances made to my son. A mere verbal statement of + the gross amount is all I shall—ha—all I shall require.’ + </p> + <p> + His eye fell upon his daughter at this point, and he stopped for a moment + to kiss her, and to pat her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘It will be necessary to find a milliner, my love, and to make a speedy + and complete change in your very plain dress. Something must be done with + Maggy too, who at present is—ha—barely respectable, barely + respectable. And your sister, Amy, and your brother. And <i>my</i> + brother, your uncle—poor soul, I trust this will rouse him—messengers + must be despatched to fetch them. They must be informed of this. We must + break it to them cautiously, but they must be informed directly. We owe it + as a duty to them and to ourselves, from this moment, not to let them—hum—not + to let them do anything.’ + </p> + <p> + This was the first intimation he had ever given, that he was privy to the + fact that they did something for a livelihood. + </p> + <p> + He was still jogging about the room, with the purse clutched in his hand, + when a great cheering arose in the yard. ‘The news has spread already,’ + said Clennam, looking down from the window. ‘Will you show yourself to + them, Mr Dorrit? They are very earnest, and they evidently wish it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I—hum—ha—I confess I could have desired, Amy my dear,’ + he said, jogging about in a more feverish flutter than before, ‘to have + made some change in my dress first, and to have bought a—hum—a + watch and chain. But if it must be done as it is, it—ha—it + must be done. Fasten the collar of my shirt, my dear. Mr Clennam, would + you oblige me—hum—with a blue neckcloth you will find in that + drawer at your elbow. Button my coat across at the chest, my love. It + looks—ha—it looks broader, buttoned.’ + </p> + <p> + With his trembling hand he pushed his grey hair up, and then, taking + Clennam and his daughter for supporters, appeared at the window leaning on + an arm of each. The Collegians cheered him very heartily, and he kissed + his hand to them with great urbanity and protection. When he withdrew into + the room again, he said ‘Poor creatures!’ in a tone of much pity for their + miserable condition. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was deeply anxious that he should lie down to compose + himself. On Arthur’s speaking to her of his going to inform Pancks that he + might now appear as soon as he would, and pursue the joyful business to + its close, she entreated him in a whisper to stay with her until her + father should be quite calm and at rest. He needed no second entreaty; and + she prepared her father’s bed, and begged him to lie down. For another + half-hour or more he would be persuaded to do nothing but go about the + room, discussing with himself the probabilities for and against the + Marshal’s allowing the whole of the prisoners to go to the windows of the + official residence which commanded the street, to see himself and family + depart for ever in a carriage—which, he said, he thought would be a + Sight for them. But gradually he began to droop and tire, and at last + stretched himself upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + She took her faithful place beside him, fanning him and cooling his + forehead; and he seemed to be falling asleep (always with the money in his + hand), when he unexpectedly sat up and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, I beg your pardon. Am I to understand, my dear sir, that I + could—ha—could pass through the Lodge at this moment, and—hum—take + a walk?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not, Mr Dorrit,’ was the unwilling reply. ‘There are certain + forms to be completed; and although your detention here is now in itself a + form, I fear it is one that for a little longer has to be observed too.’ + </p> + <p> + At this he shed tears again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is but a few hours, sir,’ Clennam cheerfully urged upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘A few hours, sir,’ he returned in a sudden passion. ‘You talk very easily + of hours, sir! How long do you suppose, sir, that an hour is to a man who + is choking for want of air?’ + </p> + <p> + It was his last demonstration for that time; as, after shedding some more + tears and querulously complaining that he couldn’t breathe, he slowly fell + into a slumber. Clennam had abundant occupation for his thoughts, as he + sat in the quiet room watching the father on his bed, and the daughter + fanning his face. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit had been thinking too. After softly putting his grey hair + aside, and touching his forehead with her lips, she looked towards Arthur, + who came nearer to her, and pursued in a low whisper the subject of her + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, will he pay all his debts before he leaves here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt. All.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All the debts for which he had been imprisoned here, all my life and + longer?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt.’ + </p> + <p> + There was something of uncertainty and remonstrance in her look; something + that was not all satisfaction. He wondered to detect it, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘You are glad that he should do so?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you?’ asked Little Dorrit, wistfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I? Most heartily glad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I know I ought to be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And are you not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems to me hard,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘that he should have lost so + many years and suffered so much, and at last pay all the debts as well. It + seems to me hard that he should pay in life and money both.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear child—’ Clennam was beginning. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I know I am wrong,’ she pleaded timidly, ‘don’t think any worse of + me; it has grown up with me here.’ + </p> + <p> + The prison, which could spoil so many things, had tainted Little Dorrit’s + mind no more than this. Engendered as the confusion was, in compassion for + the poor prisoner, her father, it was the first speck Clennam had ever + seen, it was the last speck Clennam ever saw, of the prison atmosphere + upon her. + </p> + <p> + He thought this, and forbore to say another word. With the thought, her + purity and goodness came before him in their brightest light. The little + spot made them the more beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Worn out with her own emotions, and yielding to the silence of the room, + her hand slowly slackened and failed in its fanning movement, and her head + dropped down on the pillow at her father’s side. Clennam rose softly, + opened and closed the door without a sound, and passed from the prison, + carrying the quiet with him into the turbulent streets. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0036"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 36. The Marshalsea becomes an Orphan + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd now the day arrived when Mr Dorrit and his family were to leave the + prison for ever, and the stones of its much-trodden pavement were to know + them no more. + </p> + <p> + The interval had been short, but he had greatly complained of its length, + and had been imperious with Mr Rugg touching the delay. He had been high + with Mr Rugg, and had threatened to employ some one else. He had requested + Mr Rugg not to presume upon the place in which he found him, but to do his + duty, sir, and to do it with promptitude. He had told Mr Rugg that he knew + what lawyers and agents were, and that he would not submit to imposition. + On that gentleman’s humbly representing that he exerted himself to the + utmost, Miss Fanny was very short with him; desiring to know what less he + could do, when he had been told a dozen times that money was no object, + and expressing her suspicion that he forgot whom he talked to. + </p> + <p> + Towards the Marshal, who was a Marshal of many years’ standing, and with + whom he had never had any previous difference, Mr Dorrit comported himself + with severity. That officer, on personally tendering his congratulations, + offered the free use of two rooms in his house for Mr Dorrit’s occupation + until his departure. Mr Dorrit thanked him at the moment, and replied that + he would think of it; but the Marshal was no sooner gone than he sat down + and wrote him a cutting note, in which he remarked that he had never on + any former occasion had the honour of receiving his congratulations (which + was true, though indeed there had not been anything particular to + congratulate him upon), and that he begged, on behalf of himself and + family, to repudiate the Marshal’s offer, with all those thanks which its + disinterested character and its perfect independence of all worldly + considerations demanded. + </p> + <p> + Although his brother showed so dim a glimmering of interest in their + altered fortunes that it was very doubtful whether he understood them, Mr + Dorrit caused him to be measured for new raiment by the hosiers, tailors, + hatters, and bootmakers whom he called in for himself; and ordered that + his old clothes should be taken from him and burned. Miss Fanny and Mr Tip + required no direction in making an appearance of great fashion and + elegance; and the three passed this interval together at the best hotel in + the neighbourhood—though truly, as Miss Fanny said, the best was + very indifferent. In connection with that establishment, Mr Tip hired a + cabriolet, horse, and groom, a very neat turn out, which was usually to be + observed for two or three hours at a time gracing the Borough High Street, + outside the Marshalsea court-yard. A modest little hired chariot and pair + was also frequently to be seen there; in alighting from and entering which + vehicle, Miss Fanny fluttered the Marshal’s daughters by the display of + inaccessible bonnets. + </p> + <p> + A great deal of business was transacted in this short period. Among other + items, Messrs Peddle and Pool, solicitors, of Monument Yard, were + instructed by their client Edward Dorrit, Esquire, to address a letter to + Mr Arthur Clennam, enclosing the sum of twenty-four pounds nine shillings + and eightpence, being the amount of principal and interest computed at the + rate of five per cent. per annum, in which their client believed himself + to be indebted to Mr Clennam. In making this communication and remittance, + Messrs Peddle and Pool were further instructed by their client to remind + Mr Clennam that the favour of the advance now repaid (including gate-fees) + had not been asked of him, and to inform him that it would not have been + accepted if it had been openly proffered in his name. With which they + requested a stamped receipt, and remained his obedient servants. A great + deal of business had likewise to be done, within the + so-soon-to-be-orphaned Marshalsea, by Mr Dorrit so long its Father, + chiefly arising out of applications made to him by Collegians for small + sums of money. To these he responded with the greatest liberality, and + with no lack of formality; always first writing to appoint a time at which + the applicant might wait upon him in his room, and then receiving him in + the midst of a vast accumulation of documents, and accompanying his + donation (for he said in every such case, ‘it is a donation, not a loan’) + with a great deal of good counsel: to the effect that he, the expiring + Father of the Marshalsea, hoped to be long remembered, as an example that + a man might preserve his own and the general respect even there. + </p> + <p> + The Collegians were not envious. Besides that they had a personal and + traditional regard for a Collegian of so many years’ standing, the event + was creditable to the College, and made it famous in the newspapers. + Perhaps more of them thought, too, than were quite aware of it, that the + thing might in the lottery of chances have happened to themselves, or that + something of the sort might yet happen to themselves some day or other. + They took it very well. A few were low at the thought of being left + behind, and being left poor; but even these did not grudge the family + their brilliant reverse. There might have been much more envy in politer + places. It seems probable that mediocrity of fortune would have been + disposed to be less magnanimous than the Collegians, who lived from hand + to mouth—from the pawnbroker’s hand to the day’s dinner. + </p> + <p> + They got up an address to him, which they presented in a neat frame and + glass (though it was not afterwards displayed in the family mansion or + preserved among the family papers); and to which he returned a gracious + answer. In that document he assured them, in a Royal manner, that he + received the profession of their attachment with a full conviction of its + sincerity; and again generally exhorted them to follow his example—which, + at least in so far as coming into a great property was concerned, there is + no doubt they would have gladly imitated. He took the same occasion of + inviting them to a comprehensive entertainment, to be given to the whole + College in the yard, and at which he signified he would have the honour of + taking a parting glass to the health and happiness of all those whom he + was about to leave behind. + </p> + <p> + He did not in person dine at this public repast (it took place at two in + the afternoon, and his dinners now came in from the hotel at six), but his + son was so good as to take the head of the principal table, and to be very + free and engaging. He himself went about among the company, and took + notice of individuals, and saw that the viands were of the quality he had + ordered, and that all were served. On the whole, he was like a baron of + the olden time in a rare good humour. At the conclusion of the repast, he + pledged his guests in a bumper of old Madeira; and told them that he hoped + they had enjoyed themselves, and what was more, that they would enjoy + themselves for the rest of the evening; that he wished them well; and that + he bade them welcome. His health being drunk with acclamations, he was not + so baronial after all but that in trying to return thanks he broke down, + in the manner of a mere serf with a heart in his breast, and wept before + them all. After this great success, which he supposed to be a failure, he + gave them ‘Mr Chivery and his brother officers;’ whom he had beforehand + presented with ten pounds each, and who were all in attendance. Mr Chivery + spoke to the toast, saying, What you undertake to lock up, lock up; but + remember that you are, in the words of the fettered African, a man and a + brother ever. The list of toasts disposed of, Mr Dorrit urbanely went + through the motions of playing a game of skittles with the Collegian who + was the next oldest inhabitant to himself; and left the tenantry to their + diversions. + </p> + <p> + But all these occurrences preceded the final day. And now the day arrived + when he and his family were to leave the prison for ever, and when the + stones of its much-trodden pavement were to know them no more. + </p> + <p> + Noon was the hour appointed for the departure. As it approached, there was + not a Collegian within doors, nor a turnkey absent. The latter class of + gentlemen appeared in their Sunday clothes, and the greater part of the + Collegians were brightened up as much as circumstances allowed. Two or + three flags were even displayed, and the children put on odds and ends of + ribbon. Mr Dorrit himself, at this trying time, preserved a serious but + graceful dignity. Much of his great attention was given to his brother, as + to whose bearing on the great occasion he felt anxious. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Frederick,’ said he, ‘if you will give me your arm we will pass + among our friends together. I think it is right that we should go out arm + in arm, my dear Frederick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ said Frederick. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And if, my dear Frederick—if you could, without putting any great + constraint upon yourself, throw a little (pray excuse me, Frederick), a + little polish into your usual demeanour—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘William, William,’ said the other, shaking his head, ‘it’s for you to do + all that. I don’t know how. All forgotten, forgotten!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, my dear fellow,’ returned William, ‘for that very reason, if for no + other, you must positively try to rouse yourself. What you have forgotten + you must now begin to recall, my dear Frederick. Your position—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh?’ said Frederick. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your position, my dear Frederick.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mine?’ He looked first at his own figure, and then at his brother’s, and + then, drawing a long breath, cried, ‘Hah, to be sure! Yes, yes, yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your position, my dear Frederick, is now a fine one. Your position, as my + brother, is a very fine one. And I know that it belongs to your + conscientious nature to try to become worthy of it, my dear Frederick, and + to try to adorn it. To be no discredit to it, but to adorn it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘William,’ said the other weakly, and with a sigh, ‘I will do anything you + wish, my brother, provided it lies in my power. Pray be so kind as to + recollect what a limited power mine is. What would you wish me to do + to-day, brother? Say what it is, only say what it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dearest Frederick, nothing. It is not worth troubling so good a heart + as yours with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray trouble it,’ returned the other. ‘It finds it no trouble, William, + to do anything it can for you.’ + </p> + <p> + William passed his hand across his eyes, and murmured with august + satisfaction, ‘Blessings on your attachment, my poor dear fellow!’ Then he + said aloud, ‘Well, my dear Frederick, if you will only try, as we walk + out, to show that you are alive to the occasion—that you think about + it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What would you advise me to think about it?’ returned his submissive + brother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! my dear Frederick, how can I answer you? I can only say what, in + leaving these good people, I think myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it!’ cried his brother. ‘That will help me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I find that I think, my dear Frederick, and with mixed emotions in which + a softened compassion predominates, What will they do without me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True,’ returned his brother. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes. I’ll think that as we + go, What will they do without my brother! Poor things! What will they do + without him!’ + </p> + <p> + Twelve o’clock having just struck, and the carriage being reported ready + in the outer court-yard, the brothers proceeded down-stairs arm-in-arm. + Edward Dorrit, Esquire (once Tip), and his sister Fanny followed, also + arm-in-arm; Mr Plornish and Maggy, to whom had been entrusted the removal + of such of the family effects as were considered worth removing, followed, + bearing bundles and burdens to be packed in a cart. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0381m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0381m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0381.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + In the yard, were the Collegians and turnkeys. In the yard, were Mr Pancks + and Mr Rugg, come to see the last touch given to their work. In the yard, + was Young John making a new epitaph for himself, on the occasion of his + dying of a broken heart. In the yard, was the Patriarchal Casby, looking + so tremendously benevolent that many enthusiastic Collegians grasped him + fervently by the hand, and the wives and female relatives of many more + Collegians kissed his hand, nothing doubting that he had done it all. In + the yard, was the man with the shadowy grievance respecting the Fund which + the Marshal embezzled, who had got up at five in the morning to complete + the copying of a perfectly unintelligible history of that transaction, + which he had committed to Mr Dorrit’s care, as a document of the last + importance, calculated to stun the Government and effect the Marshal’s + downfall. In the yard, was the insolvent whose utmost energies were always + set on getting into debt, who broke into prison with as much pains as + other men have broken out of it, and who was always being cleared and + complimented; while the insolvent at his elbow—a mere little, + snivelling, striving tradesman, half dead of anxious efforts to keep out + of debt—found it a hard matter, indeed, to get a Commissioner to + release him with much reproof and reproach. In the yard, was the man of + many children and many burdens, whose failure astonished everybody; in the + yard, was the man of no children and large resources, whose failure + astonished nobody. There, were the people who were always going out + to-morrow, and always putting it off; there, were the people who had come + in yesterday, and who were much more jealous and resentful of this freak + of fortune than the seasoned birds. There, were some who, in pure meanness + of spirit, cringed and bowed before the enriched Collegian and his family; + there, were others who did so really because their eyes, accustomed to the + gloom of their imprisonment and poverty, could not support the light of + such bright sunshine. There, were many whose shillings had gone into his + pocket to buy him meat and drink; but none who were now obtrusively Hail + fellow well met! with him, on the strength of that assistance. It was + rather to be remarked of the caged birds, that they were a little shy of + the bird about to be so grandly free, and that they had a tendency to + withdraw themselves towards the bars, and seem a little fluttered as he + passed. + </p> + <p> + Through these spectators the little procession, headed by the two + brothers, moved slowly to the gate. Mr Dorrit, yielding to the vast + speculation how the poor creatures were to get on without him, was great, + and sad, but not absorbed. He patted children on the head like Sir Roger + de Coverley going to church, he spoke to people in the background by their + Christian names, he condescended to all present, and seemed for their + consolation to walk encircled by the legend in golden characters, ‘Be + comforted, my people! Bear it!’ + </p> + <p> + At last three honest cheers announced that he had passed the gate, and + that the Marshalsea was an orphan. Before they had ceased to ring in the + echoes of the prison walls, the family had got into their carriage, and + the attendant had the steps in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Then, and not before, ‘Good Gracious!’ cried Miss Fanny all at once, + ‘Where’s Amy!’ + </p> + <p> + Her father had thought she was with her sister. Her sister had thought she + was ‘somewhere or other.’ They had all trusted to finding her, as they had + always done, quietly in the right place at the right moment. This going + away was perhaps the very first action of their joint lives that they had + got through without her. + </p> + <p> + A minute might have been consumed in the ascertaining of these points, + when Miss Fanny, who, from her seat in the carriage, commanded the long + narrow passage leading to the Lodge, flushed indignantly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I do say, Pa,’ cried she, ‘that this is disgraceful!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is disgraceful, Fanny?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do say,’ she repeated, ‘this is perfectly infamous! Really almost + enough, even at such a time as this, to make one wish one was dead! Here + is that child Amy, in her ugly old shabby dress, which she was so + obstinate about, Pa, which I over and over again begged and prayed her to + change, and which she over and over again objected to, and promised to + change to-day, saying she wished to wear it as long as ever she remained + in there with you—which was absolutely romantic nonsense of the + lowest kind—here is that child Amy disgracing us to the last moment + and at the last moment, by being carried out in that dress after all. And + by that Mr Clennam too!’ + </p> + <p> + The offence was proved, as she delivered the indictment. Clennam appeared + at the carriage-door, bearing the little insensible figure in his arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘She has been forgotten,’ he said, in a tone of pity not free from + reproach. ‘I ran up to her room (which Mr Chivery showed me) and found the + door open, and that she had fainted on the floor, dear child. She appeared + to have gone to change her dress, and to have sunk down overpowered. It + may have been the cheering, or it may have happened sooner. Take care of + this poor cold hand, Miss Dorrit. Don’t let it fall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir,’ returned Miss Dorrit, bursting into tears. ‘I believe I + know what to do, if you will give me leave. Dear Amy, open your eyes, + that’s a love! Oh, Amy, Amy, I really am so vexed and ashamed! Do rouse + yourself, darling! Oh, why are they not driving on! Pray, Pa, do drive + on!’ + </p> + <p> + The attendant, getting between Clennam and the carriage-door, with a sharp + ‘By your leave, sir!’ bundled up the steps, and they drove away. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES + </h2> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0037"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 1. Fellow Travellers + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the autumn of the year, Darkness and Night were creeping up to the + highest ridges of the Alps. + </p> + <p> + It was vintage time in the valleys on the Swiss side of the Pass of the + Great Saint Bernard, and along the banks of the Lake of Geneva. The air + there was charged with the scent of gathered grapes. Baskets, troughs, and + tubs of grapes stood in the dim village doorways, stopped the steep and + narrow village streets, and had been carrying all day along the roads and + lanes. Grapes, split and crushed under foot, lay about everywhere. The + child carried in a sling by the laden peasant woman toiling home, was + quieted with picked-up grapes; the idiot sunning his big goitre under the + leaves of the wooden chalet by the way to the Waterfall, sat munching + grapes; the breath of the cows and goats was redolent of leaves and stalks + of grapes; the company in every little cabaret were eating, drinking, + talking grapes. A pity that no ripe touch of this generous abundance could + be given to the thin, hard, stony wine, which after all was made from the + grapes! + </p> + <p> + The air had been warm and transparent through the whole of the bright day. + Shining metal spires and church-roofs, distant and rarely seen, had + sparkled in the view; and the snowy mountain-tops had been so clear that + unaccustomed eyes, cancelling the intervening country, and slighting their + rugged heights for something fabulous, would have measured them as within + a few hours easy reach. Mountain-peaks of great celebrity in the valleys, + whence no trace of their existence was visible sometimes for months + together, had been since morning plain and near in the blue sky. And now, + when it was dark below, though they seemed solemnly to recede, like + spectres who were going to vanish, as the red dye of the sunset faded out + of them and left them coldly white, they were yet distinctly defined in + their loneliness above the mists and shadows. + </p> + <p> + Seen from these solitudes, and from the Pass of the Great Saint Bernard, + which was one of them, the ascending Night came up the mountain like a + rising water. When it at last rose to the walls of the convent of the + Great Saint Bernard, it was as if that weather-beaten structure were + another Ark, and floated on the shadowy waves. + </p> + <p> + Darkness, outstripping some visitors on mules, had risen thus to the rough + convent walls, when those travellers were yet climbing the mountain. As + the heat of the glowing day when they had stopped to drink at the streams + of melted ice and snow, was changed to the searching cold of the frosty + rarefied night air at a great height, so the fresh beauty of the lower + journey had yielded to barrenness and desolation. A craggy track, up which + the mules in single file scrambled and turned from block to block, as + though they were ascending the broken staircase of a gigantic ruin, was + their way now. No trees were to be seen, nor any vegetable growth save a + poor brown scrubby moss, freezing in the chinks of rock. Blackened + skeleton arms of wood by the wayside pointed upward to the convent as if + the ghosts of former travellers overwhelmed by the snow haunted the scene + of their distress. Icicle-hung caves and cellars built for refuges from + sudden storms, were like so many whispers of the perils of the place; + never-resting wreaths and mazes of mist wandered about, hunted by a + moaning wind; and snow, the besetting danger of the mountain, against + which all its defences were taken, drifted sharply down. + </p> + <p> + The file of mules, jaded by their day’s work, turned and wound slowly up + the deep ascent; the foremost led by a guide on foot, in his broad-brimmed + hat and round jacket, carrying a mountain staff or two upon his shoulder, + with whom another guide conversed. There was no speaking among the string + of riders. The sharp cold, the fatigue of the journey, and a new sensation + of a catching in the breath, partly as if they had just emerged from very + clear crisp water, and partly as if they had been sobbing, kept them + silent. + </p> + <p> + At length, a light on the summit of the rocky staircase gleamed through + the snow and mist. The guides called to the mules, the mules pricked up + their drooping heads, the travellers’ tongues were loosened, and in a + sudden burst of slipping, climbing, jingling, clinking, and talking, they + arrived at the convent door. + </p> + <p> + Other mules had arrived not long before, some with peasant riders and some + with goods, and had trodden the snow about the door into a pool of mud. + Riding-saddles and bridles, pack-saddles and strings of bells, mules and + men, lanterns, torches, sacks, provender, barrels, cheeses, kegs of honey + and butter, straw bundles and packages of many shapes, were crowded + confusedly together in this thawed quagmire and about the steps. Up here + in the clouds, everything was seen through cloud, and seemed dissolving + into cloud. The breath of the men was cloud, the breath of the mules was + cloud, the lights were encircled by cloud, speakers close at hand were not + seen for cloud, though their voices and all other sounds were surprisingly + clear. Of the cloudy line of mules hastily tied to rings in the wall, one + would bite another, or kick another, and then the whole mist would be + disturbed: with men diving into it, and cries of men and beasts coming out + of it, and no bystander discerning what was wrong. In the midst of this, + the great stable of the convent, occupying the basement story and entered + by the basement door, outside which all the disorder was, poured forth its + contribution of cloud, as if the whole rugged edifice were filled with + nothing else, and would collapse as soon as it had emptied itself, leaving + the snow to fall upon the bare mountain summit. + </p> + <p> + While all this noise and hurry were rife among the living travellers, + there, too, silently assembled in a grated house half-a-dozen paces + removed, with the same cloud enfolding them and the same snow flakes + drifting in upon them, were the dead travellers found upon the mountain. + The mother, storm-belated many winters ago, still standing in the corner + with her baby at her breast; the man who had frozen with his arm raised to + his mouth in fear or hunger, still pressing it with his dry lips after + years and years. An awful company, mysteriously come together! A wild + destiny for that mother to have foreseen! ‘Surrounded by so many and such + companions upon whom I never looked, and never shall look, I and my child + will dwell together inseparable, on the Great Saint Bernard, outlasting + generations who will come to see us, and will never know our name, or one + word of our story but the end.’ + </p> + <p> + The living travellers thought little or nothing of the dead just then. + They thought much more of alighting at the convent door, and warming + themselves at the convent fire. Disengaged from the turmoil, which was + already calming down as the crowd of mules began to be bestowed in the + stable, they hurried shivering up the steps and into the building. There + was a smell within, coming up from the floor, of tethered beasts, like the + smell of a menagerie of wild animals. There were strong arched galleries + within, huge stone piers, great staircases, and thick walls pierced with + small sunken windows—fortifications against the mountain storms, as + if they had been human enemies. There were gloomy vaulted sleeping-rooms + within, intensely cold, but clean and hospitably prepared for guests. + Finally, there was a parlour for guests to sit in and sup in, where a + table was already laid, and where a blazing fire shone red and high. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0390m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0390m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0390.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + In this room, after having had their quarters for the night allotted to + them by two young Fathers, the travellers presently drew round the hearth. + They were in three parties; of whom the first, as the most numerous and + important, was the slowest, and had been overtaken by one of the others on + the way up. It consisted of an elderly lady, two grey-haired gentlemen, + two young ladies, and their brother. These were attended (not to mention + four guides), by a courier, two footmen, and two waiting-maids: which + strong body of inconvenience was accommodated elsewhere under the same + roof. The party that had overtaken them, and followed in their train, + consisted of only three members: one lady and two gentlemen. The third + party, which had ascended from the valley on the Italian side of the Pass, + and had arrived first, were four in number: a plethoric, hungry, and + silent German tutor in spectacles, on a tour with three young men, his + pupils, all plethoric, hungry, and silent, and all in spectacles. + </p> + <p> + These three groups sat round the fire eyeing each other drily, and waiting + for supper. Only one among them, one of the gentlemen belonging to the + party of three, made advances towards conversation. Throwing out his lines + for the Chief of the important tribe, while addressing himself to his own + companions, he remarked, in a tone of voice which included all the company + if they chose to be included, that it had been a long day, and that he + felt for the ladies. That he feared one of the young ladies was not a + strong or accustomed traveller, and had been over-fatigued two or three + hours ago. That he had observed, from his station in the rear, that she + sat her mule as if she were exhausted. That he had, twice or thrice + afterwards, done himself the honour of inquiring of one of the guides, + when he fell behind, how the lady did. That he had been enchanted to learn + that she had recovered her spirits, and that it had been but a passing + discomfort. That he trusted (by this time he had secured the eyes of the + Chief, and addressed him) he might be permitted to express his hope that + she was now none the worse, and that she would not regret having made the + journey. + </p> + <p> + ‘My daughter, I am obliged to you, sir,’ returned the Chief, ‘is quite + restored, and has been greatly interested.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘New to mountains, perhaps?’ said the insinuating traveller. + </p> + <p> + ‘New to—ha—to mountains,’ said the Chief. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are familiar with them, sir?’ the insinuating traveller assumed. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am—hum—tolerably familiar. Not of late years. Not of late + years,’ replied the Chief, with a flourish of his hand. + </p> + <p> + The insinuating traveller, acknowledging the flourish with an inclination + of his head, passed from the Chief to the second young lady, who had not + yet been referred to otherwise than as one of the ladies in whose behalf + he felt so sensitive an interest. + </p> + <p> + He hoped she was not incommoded by the fatigues of the day. + </p> + <p> + ‘Incommoded, certainly,’ returned the young lady, ‘but not tired.’ + </p> + <p> + The insinuating traveller complimented her on the justice of the + distinction. It was what he had meant to say. Every lady must doubtless be + incommoded by having to do with that proverbially unaccommodating animal, + the mule. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have had, of course,’ said the young lady, who was rather reserved and + haughty, ‘to leave the carriages and fourgon at Martigny. And the + impossibility of bringing anything that one wants to this inaccessible + place, and the necessity of leaving every comfort behind, is not + convenient.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A savage place indeed,’ said the insinuating traveller. + </p> + <p> + The elderly lady, who was a model of accurate dressing, and whose manner + was perfect, considered as a piece of machinery, here interposed a remark + in a low soft voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, like other inconvenient places,’ she observed, ‘it must be seen. As + a place much spoken of, it is necessary to see it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O! I have not the least objection to seeing it, I assure you, Mrs + General,’ returned the other, carelessly. + </p> + <p> + ‘You, madam,’ said the insinuating traveller, ‘have visited this spot + before?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ returned Mrs General. ‘I have been here before. Let me commend you, + my dear,’ to the former young lady, ‘to shade your face from the hot wood, + after exposure to the mountain air and snow. You, too, my dear,’ to the + other and younger lady, who immediately did so; while the former merely + said, ‘Thank you, Mrs General, I am Perfectly comfortable, and prefer + remaining as I am.’ + </p> + <p> + The brother, who had left his chair to open a piano that stood in the + room, and who had whistled into it and shut it up again, now came + strolling back to the fire with his glass in his eye. He was dressed in + the very fullest and completest travelling trim. The world seemed hardly + large enough to yield him an amount of travel proportionate to his + equipment. + </p> + <p> + ‘These fellows are an immense time with supper,’ he drawled. ‘I wonder + what they’ll give us! Has anybody any idea?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not roast man, I believe,’ replied the voice of the second gentleman of + the party of three. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose not. What d’ye mean?’ he inquired. + </p> + <p> + ‘That, as you are not to be served for the general supper, perhaps you + will do us the favour of not cooking yourself at the general fire,’ + returned the other. + </p> + <p> + The young gentleman who was standing in an easy attitude on the hearth, + cocking his glass at the company, with his back to the blaze and his coat + tucked under his arms, something as if he were Of the Poultry species and + were trussed for roasting, lost countenance at this reply; he seemed about + to demand further explanation, when it was discovered—through all + eyes turning on the speaker—that the lady with him, who was young + and beautiful, had not heard what had passed through having fainted with + her head upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ said the gentleman in a subdued tone, ‘I had best carry her + straight to her room. Will you call to some one to bring a light?’ + addressing his companion, ‘and to show the way? In this strange rambling + place I don’t know that I could find it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, let me call my maid,’ cried the taller of the young ladies. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, let me put this water to her lips,’ said the shorter, who had not + spoken yet. + </p> + <p> + Each doing what she suggested, there was no want of assistance. Indeed, + when the two maids came in (escorted by the courier, lest any one should + strike them dumb by addressing a foreign language to them on the road), + there was a prospect of too much assistance. Seeing this, and saying as + much in a few words to the slighter and younger of the two ladies, the + gentleman put his wife’s arm over his shoulder, lifted her up, and carried + her away. + </p> + <p> + His friend, being left alone with the other visitors, walked slowly up and + down the room without coming to the fire again, pulling his black + moustache in a contemplative manner, as if he felt himself committed to + the late retort. While the subject of it was breathing injury in a corner, + the Chief loftily addressed this gentleman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your friend, sir,’ said he, ‘is—ha—is a little impatient; + and, in his impatience, is not perhaps fully sensible of what he owes to—hum—to—but + we will waive that, we will waive that. Your friend is a little impatient, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be so, sir,’ returned the other. ‘But having had the honour of + making that gentleman’s acquaintance at the hotel at Geneva, where we and + much good company met some time ago, and having had the honour of + exchanging company and conversation with that gentleman on several + subsequent excursions, I can hear nothing—no, not even from one of + your appearance and station, sir—detrimental to that gentleman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are in no danger, sir, of hearing any such thing from me. In + remarking that your friend has shown impatience, I say no such thing. I + make that remark, because it is not to be doubted that my son, being by + birth and by—ha—by education a—hum—a gentleman, + would have readily adapted himself to any obligingly expressed wish on the + subject of the fire being equally accessible to the whole of the present + circle. Which, in principle, I—ha—for all are—hum—equal + on these occasions—I consider right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good,’ was the reply. ‘And there it ends! I am your son’s obedient + servant. I beg your son to receive the assurance of my profound + consideration. And now, sir, I may admit, freely admit, that my friend is + sometimes of a sarcastic temper.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The lady is your friend’s wife, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The lady is my friend’s wife, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is very handsome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, she is peerless. They are still in the first year of their marriage. + They are still partly on a marriage, and partly on an artistic, tour.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your friend is an artist, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + The gentleman replied by kissing the fingers of his right hand, and + wafting the kiss the length of his arm towards Heaven. As who should say, + I devote him to the celestial Powers as an immortal artist! + </p> + <p> + ‘But he is a man of family,’ he added. ‘His connections are of the best. + He is more than an artist: he is highly connected. He may, in effect, have + repudiated his connections, proudly, impatiently, sarcastically (I make + the concession of both words); but he has them. Sparks that have been + struck out during our intercourse have shown me this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! I hope,’ said the lofty gentleman, with the air of finally + disposing of the subject, ‘that the lady’s indisposition may be only + temporary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, I hope so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mere fatigue, I dare say.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not altogether mere fatigue, sir, for her mule stumbled to-day, and she + fell from the saddle. She fell lightly, and was up again without + assistance, and rode from us laughing; but she complained towards evening + of a slight bruise in the side. She spoke of it more than once, as we + followed your party up the mountain.’ + </p> + <p> + The head of the large retinue, who was gracious but not familiar, appeared + by this time to think that he had condescended more than enough. He said + no more, and there was silence for some quarter of an hour until supper + appeared. + </p> + <p> + With the supper came one of the young Fathers (there seemed to be no old + Fathers) to take the head of the table. It was like the supper of an + ordinary Swiss hotel, and good red wine grown by the convent in more + genial air was not wanting. The artist traveller calmly came and took his + place at table when the rest sat down, with no apparent sense upon him of + his late skirmish with the completely dressed traveller. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray,’ he inquired of the host, over his soup, ‘has your convent many of + its famous dogs now?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur, it has three.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I saw three in the gallery below. Doubtless the three in question.’ + </p> + <p> + The host, a slender, bright-eyed, dark young man of polite manners, whose + garment was a black gown with strips of white crossed over it like braces, + and who no more resembled the conventional breed of Saint Bernard monks + than he resembled the conventional breed of Saint Bernard dogs, replied, + doubtless those were the three in question. + </p> + <p> + ‘And I think,’ said the artist traveller, ‘I have seen one of them + before.’ + </p> + <p> + It was possible. He was a dog sufficiently well known. Monsieur might have + easily seen him in the valley or somewhere on the lake, when he (the dog) + had gone down with one of the order to solicit aid for the convent. + </p> + <p> + ‘Which is done in its regular season of the year, I think?’ + </p> + <p> + Monsieur was right. + </p> + <p> + ‘And never without a dog. The dog is very important.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Monsieur was right. The dog was very important. People were justly + interested in the dog. As one of the dogs celebrated everywhere, + Ma’amselle would observe. + </p> + <p> + Ma’amselle was a little slow to observe it, as though she were not yet + well accustomed to the French tongue. Mrs General, however, observed it + for her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask him if he has saved many lives?’ said, in his native English, the + young man who had been put out of countenance. + </p> + <p> + The host needed no translation of the question. He promptly replied in + French, ‘No. Not this one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ the same gentleman asked. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon,’ returned the host composedly, ‘give him the opportunity and he + will do it without doubt. For example, I am well convinced,’ smiling + sedately, as he cut up the dish of veal to be handed round, on the young + man who had been put out of countenance, ‘that if you, Monsieur, would + give him the opportunity, he would hasten with great ardour to fulfil his + duty.’ + </p> + <p> + The artist traveller laughed. The insinuating traveller (who evinced a + provident anxiety to get his full share of the supper), wiping some drops + of wine from his moustache with a piece of bread, joined the conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is becoming late in the year, my Father,’ said he, ‘for + tourist-travellers, is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, it is late. Yet two or three weeks, at most, and we shall be left to + the winter snows.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And then,’ said the insinuating traveller, ‘for the scratching dogs and + the buried children, according to the pictures!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon,’ said the host, not quite understanding the allusion. ‘How, then + the scratching dogs and the buried children according to the pictures?’ + </p> + <p> + The artist traveller struck in again before an answer could be given. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t you know,’ he coldly inquired across the table of his companion, + ‘that none but smugglers come this way in the winter or can have any + possible business this way?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Holy blue! No; never heard of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So it is, I believe. And as they know the signs of the weather tolerably + well, they don’t give much employment to the dogs—who have + consequently died out rather—though this house of entertainment is + conveniently situated for themselves. Their young families, I am told, + they usually leave at home. But it’s a grand idea!’ cried the artist + traveller, unexpectedly rising into a tone of enthusiasm. ‘It’s a sublime + idea. It’s the finest idea in the world, and brings tears into a man’s + eyes, by Jupiter!’ He then went on eating his veal with great composure. + </p> + <p> + There was enough of mocking inconsistency at the bottom of this speech to + make it rather discordant, though the manner was refined and the person + well-favoured, and though the depreciatory part of it was so skilfully + thrown off as to be very difficult for one not perfectly acquainted with + the English language to understand, or, even understanding, to take + offence at: so simple and dispassionate was its tone. After finishing his + veal in the midst of silence, the speaker again addressed his friend. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look,’ said he, in his former tone, ‘at this gentleman our host, not yet + in the prime of life, who in so graceful a way and with such courtly + urbanity and modesty presides over us! Manners fit for a crown! Dine with + the Lord Mayor of London (if you can get an invitation) and observe the + contrast. This dear fellow, with the finest cut face I ever saw, a face in + perfect drawing, leaves some laborious life and comes up here I don’t know + how many feet above the level of the sea, for no other purpose on earth + (except enjoying himself, I hope, in a capital refectory) than to keep an + hotel for idle poor devils like you and me, and leave the bill to our + consciences! Why, isn’t it a beautiful sacrifice? What do we want more to + touch us? Because rescued people of interesting appearance are not, for + eight or nine months out of every twelve, holding on here round the necks + of the most sagacious of dogs carrying wooden bottles, shall we disparage + the place? No! Bless the place. It’s a great place, a glorious place!’ + </p> + <p> + The chest of the grey-haired gentleman who was the Chief of the important + party, had swelled as if with a protest against his being numbered among + poor devils. No sooner had the artist traveller ceased speaking than he + himself spoke with great dignity, as having it incumbent on him to take + the lead in most places, and having deserted that duty for a little while. + </p> + <p> + He weightily communicated his opinion to their host, that his life must be + a very dreary life here in the winter. + </p> + <p> + The host allowed to Monsieur that it was a little monotonous. The air was + difficult to breathe for a length of time consecutively. The cold was very + severe. One needed youth and strength to bear it. However, having them and + the blessing of Heaven— + </p> + <p> + Yes, that was very good. ‘But the confinement,’ said the grey-haired + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + There were many days, even in bad weather, when it was possible to walk + about outside. It was the custom to beat a little track, and take exercise + there. + </p> + <p> + ‘But the space,’ urged the grey-haired gentleman. ‘So small. So—ha—very + limited.’ + </p> + <p> + Monsieur would recall to himself that there were the refuges to visit, and + that tracks had to be made to them also. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur still urged, on the other hand, that the space was so—ha—hum—so + very contracted. More than that, it was always the same, always the same. + </p> + <p> + With a deprecating smile, the host gently raised and gently lowered his + shoulders. That was true, he remarked, but permit him to say that almost + all objects had their various points of view. Monsieur and he did not see + this poor life of his from the same point of view. Monsieur was not used + to confinement. + </p> + <p> + ‘I—ha—yes, very true,’ said the grey-haired gentleman. He + seemed to receive quite a shock from the force of the argument. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur, as an English traveller, surrounded by all means of travelling + pleasantly; doubtless possessing fortune, carriages, and servants— + </p> + <p> + ‘Perfectly, perfectly. Without doubt,’ said the gentleman. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur could not easily place himself in the position of a person who + had not the power to choose, I will go here to-morrow, or there next day; + I will pass these barriers, I will enlarge those bounds. Monsieur could + not realise, perhaps, how the mind accommodated itself in such things to + the force of necessity. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is true,’ said Monsieur. ‘We will—ha—not pursue the + subject. You are—hum—quite accurate, I have no doubt. We will + say no more.’ + </p> + <p> + The supper having come to a close, he drew his chair away as he spoke, and + moved back to his former place by the fire. As it was very cold at the + greater part of the table, the other guests also resumed their former + seats by the fire, designing to toast themselves well before going to bed. + The host, when they rose from the table, bowed to all present, wished them + good night, and withdrew. But first the insinuating traveller had asked + him if they could have some wine made hot; and as he had answered Yes, and + had presently afterwards sent it in, that traveller, seated in the centre + of the group, and in the full heat of the fire, was soon engaged in + serving it out to the rest. + </p> + <p> + At this time, the younger of the two young ladies, who had been silently + attentive in her dark corner (the fire-light was the chief light in the + sombre room, the lamp being smoky and dull) to what had been said of the + absent lady, glided out. She was at a loss which way to turn when she had + softly closed the door; but, after a little hesitation among the sounding + passages and the many ways, came to a room in a corner of the main + gallery, where the servants were at their supper. From these she obtained + a lamp, and a direction to the lady’s room. + </p> + <p> + It was up the great staircase on the story above. Here and there, the bare + white walls were broken by an iron grate, and she thought as she went + along that the place was something like a prison. The arched door of the + lady’s room, or cell, was not quite shut. After knocking at it two or + three times without receiving an answer, she pushed it gently open, and + looked in. + </p> + <p> + The lady lay with closed eyes on the outside of the bed, protected from + the cold by the blankets and wrappers with which she had been covered when + she revived from her fainting fit. A dull light placed in the deep recess + of the window, made little impression on the arched room. The visitor + timidly stepped to the bed, and said, in a soft whisper, ‘Are you better?’ + </p> + <p> + The lady had fallen into a slumber, and the whisper was too low to awake + her. Her visitor, standing quite still, looked at her attentively. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is very pretty,’ she said to herself. ‘I never saw so beautiful a + face. O how unlike me!’ + </p> + <p> + It was a curious thing to say, but it had some hidden meaning, for it + filled her eyes with tears. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know I must be right. I know he spoke of her that evening. I could very + easily be wrong on any other subject, but not on this, not on this!’ + </p> + <p> + With a quiet and tender hand she put aside a straying fold of the + sleeper’s hair, and then touched the hand that lay outside the covering. + </p> + <p> + ‘I like to look at her,’ she breathed to herself. ‘I like to see what has + affected him so much.’ + </p> + <p> + She had not withdrawn her hand, when the sleeper opened her eyes and + started. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray don’t be alarmed. I am only one of the travellers from down-stairs. + I came to ask if you were better, and if I could do anything for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think you have already been so kind as to send your servants to my + assistance?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, not I; that was my sister. Are you better?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Much better. It is only a slight bruise, and has been well looked to, and + is almost easy now. It made me giddy and faint in a moment. It had hurt me + before; but at last it overpowered me all at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I stay with you until some one comes? Would you like it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should like it, for it is lonely here; but I am afraid you will feel + the cold too much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t mind cold. I am not delicate, if I look so.’ She quickly moved + one of the two rough chairs to the bedside, and sat down. The other as + quickly moved a part of some travelling wrapper from herself, and drew it + over her, so that her arm, in keeping it about her, rested on her + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have so much the air of a kind nurse,’ said the lady, smiling on her, + ‘that you seem as if you had come to me from home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very glad of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was dreaming of home when I woke just now. Of my old home, I mean, + before I was married.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And before you were so far away from it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been much farther away from it than this; but then I took the best + part of it with me, and missed nothing. I felt solitary as I dropped + asleep here, and, missing it a little, wandered back to it.’ + </p> + <p> + There was a sorrowfully affectionate and regretful sound in her voice, + which made her visitor refrain from looking at her for the moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a curious chance which at last brings us together, under this + covering in which you have wrapped me,’ said the visitor after a pause; + ‘for do you know, I think I have been looking for you some time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Looking for me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe I have a little note here, which I was to give to you whenever + I found you. This is it. Unless I greatly mistake, it is addressed to you? + Is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + The lady took it, and said yes, and read it. Her visitor watched her as + she did so. It was very short. She flushed a little as she put her lips to + her visitor’s cheek, and pressed her hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘The dear young friend to whom he presents me, may be a comfort to me at + some time, he says. She is truly a comfort to me the first time I see + her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you don’t,’ said the visitor, hesitating—‘perhaps you don’t + know my story? Perhaps he never told you my story?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no, why should he! I have scarcely the right to tell it myself at + present, because I have been entreated not to do so. There is not much in + it, but it might account to you for my asking you not to say anything + about the letter here. You saw my family with me, perhaps? Some of them—I + only say this to you—are a little proud, a little prejudiced.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall take it back again,’ said the other; ‘and then my husband is + sure not to see it. He might see it and speak of it, otherwise, by some + accident. Will you put it in your bosom again, to be certain?’ + </p> + <p> + She did so with great care. Her small, slight hand was still upon the + letter, when they heard some one in the gallery outside. + </p> + <p> + ‘I promised,’ said the visitor, rising, ‘that I would write to him after + seeing you (I could hardly fail to see you sooner or later), and tell him + if you were well and happy. I had better say you were well and happy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, yes! Say I was very well and very happy. And that I thanked him + affectionately, and would never forget him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall see you in the morning. After that we are sure to meet again + before very long. Good night!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night. Thank you, thank you. Good night, my dear!’ + </p> + <p> + Both of them were hurried and fluttered as they exchanged this parting, + and as the visitor came out of the door. She had expected to meet the + lady’s husband approaching it; but the person in the gallery was not he: + it was the traveller who had wiped the wine-drops from his moustache with + the piece of bread. When he heard the step behind him, he turned round—for + he was walking away in the dark. + </p> + <p> + His politeness, which was extreme, would not allow of the young lady’s + lighting herself down-stairs, or going down alone. He took her lamp, held + it so as to throw the best light on the stone steps, and followed her all + the way to the supper-room. She went down, not easily hiding how much she + was inclined to shrink and tremble; for the appearance of this traveller + was particularly disagreeable to her. She had sat in her quiet corner + before supper imagining what he would have been in the scenes and places + within her experience, until he inspired her with an aversion that made + him little less than terrific. + </p> + <p> + He followed her down with his smiling politeness, followed her in, and + resumed his seat in the best place in the hearth. There with the + wood-fire, which was beginning to burn low, rising and falling upon him in + the dark room, he sat with his legs thrust out to warm, drinking the hot + wine down to the lees, with a monstrous shadow imitating him on the wall + and ceiling. + </p> + <p> + The tired company had broken up, and all the rest were gone to bed except + the young lady’s father, who dozed in his chair by the fire. The traveller + had been at the pains of going a long way up-stairs to his sleeping-room + to fetch his pocket-flask of brandy. He told them so, as he poured its + contents into what was left of the wine, and drank with a new relish. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask, sir, if you are on your way to Italy?’ + </p> + <p> + The grey-haired gentleman had roused himself, and was preparing to + withdraw. He answered in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + ‘I also!’ said the traveller. ‘I shall hope to have the honour of offering + my compliments in fairer scenes, and under softer circumstances, than on + this dismal mountain.’ + </p> + <p> + The gentleman bowed, distantly enough, and said he was obliged to him. + </p> + <p> + ‘We poor gentlemen, sir,’ said the traveller, pulling his moustache dry + with his hand, for he had dipped it in the wine and brandy; ‘we poor + gentlemen do not travel like princes, but the courtesies and graces of + life are precious to us. To your health, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, I thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To the health of your distinguished family—of the fair ladies, your + daughters!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir, I thank you again, I wish you good night. My dear, are our—ha—our + people in attendance?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are close by, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Permit me!’ said the traveller, rising and holding the door open, as the + gentleman crossed the room towards it with his arm drawn through his + daughter’s. ‘Good repose! To the pleasure of seeing you once more! To + to-morrow!’ + </p> + <p> + As he kissed his hand, with his best manner and his daintiest smile, the + young lady drew a little nearer to her father, and passed him with a dread + of touching him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Humph!’ said the insinuating traveller, whose manner shrunk, and whose + voice dropped when he was left alone. ‘If they all go to bed, why I must + go. They are in a devil of a hurry. One would think the night would be + long enough, in this freezing silence and solitude, if one went to bed two + hours hence.’ + </p> + <p> + Throwing back his head in emptying his glass, he cast his eyes upon the + travellers’ book, which lay on the piano, open, with pens and ink beside + it, as if the night’s names had been registered when he was absent. Taking + it in his hand, he read these entries. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + William Dorrit, Esquire + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Frederick Dorrit, Esquire + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Edward Dorrit, Esquire + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Miss Dorrit + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Miss Amy Dorrit + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Mrs General + </p> + <p class="indent30"> + and Suite. + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + From France to Italy. + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Mr and Mrs Henry Gowan. + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + From France to Italy. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + To which he added, in a small complicated hand, ending with a long lean + flourish, not unlike a lasso thrown at all the rest of the names: + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Blandois. Paris. + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + From France to Italy. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + And then, with his nose coming down over his moustache and his moustache + going up and under his nose, repaired to his allotted cell. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0038"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 2. Mrs General + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is indispensable to present the accomplished lady who was of sufficient + importance in the suite of the Dorrit Family to have a line to herself in + the Travellers’ Book. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General was the daughter of a clerical dignitary in a cathedral town, + where she had led the fashion until she was as near forty-five as a single + lady can be. A stiff commissariat officer of sixty, famous as a martinet, + had then become enamoured of the gravity with which she drove the + proprieties four-in-hand through the cathedral town society, and had + solicited to be taken beside her on the box of the cool coach of ceremony + to which that team was harnessed. His proposal of marriage being accepted + by the lady, the commissary took his seat behind the proprieties with + great decorum, and Mrs General drove until the commissary died. In the + course of their united journey, they ran over several people who came in + the way of the proprieties; but always in a high style and with composure. + </p> + <p> + The commissary having been buried with all the decorations suitable to the + service (the whole team of proprieties were harnessed to his hearse, and + they all had feathers and black velvet housings with his coat of arms in + the corner), Mrs General began to inquire what quantity of dust and ashes + was deposited at the bankers’. It then transpired that the commissary had + so far stolen a march on Mrs General as to have bought himself an annuity + some years before his marriage, and to have reserved that circumstance in + mentioning, at the period of his proposal, that his income was derived + from the interest of his money. Mrs General consequently found her means + so much diminished, that, but for the perfect regulation of her mind, she + might have felt disposed to question the accuracy of that portion of the + late service which had declared that the commissary could take nothing + away with him. + </p> + <p> + In this state of affairs it occurred to Mrs General, that she might ‘form + the mind,’ and eke the manners of some young lady of distinction. Or, that + she might harness the proprieties to the carriage of some rich young + heiress or widow, and become at once the driver and guard of such vehicle + through the social mazes. Mrs General’s communication of this idea to her + clerical and commissariat connection was so warmly applauded that, but for + the lady’s undoubted merit, it might have appeared as though they wanted + to get rid of her. Testimonials representing Mrs General as a prodigy of + piety, learning, virtue, and gentility, were lavishly contributed from + influential quarters; and one venerable archdeacon even shed tears in + recording his testimony to her perfections (described to him by persons on + whom he could rely), though he had never had the honour and moral + gratification of setting eyes on Mrs General in all his life. + </p> + <p> + Thus delegated on her mission, as it were by Church and State, Mrs + General, who had always occupied high ground, felt in a condition to keep + it, and began by putting herself up at a very high figure. An interval of + some duration elapsed, in which there was no bid for Mrs General. At + length a county-widower, with a daughter of fourteen, opened negotiations + with the lady; and as it was a part either of the native dignity or of the + artificial policy of Mrs General (but certainly one or the other) to + comport herself as if she were much more sought than seeking, the widower + pursued Mrs General until he prevailed upon her to form his daughter’s + mind and manners. + </p> + <p> + The execution of this trust occupied Mrs General about seven years, in the + course of which time she made the tour of Europe, and saw most of that + extensive miscellany of objects which it is essential that all persons of + polite cultivation should see with other people’s eyes, and never with + their own. When her charge was at length formed, the marriage, not only of + the young lady, but likewise of her father, the widower, was resolved on. + The widower then finding Mrs General both inconvenient and expensive, + became of a sudden almost as much affected by her merits as the archdeacon + had been, and circulated such praises of her surpassing worth, in all + quarters where he thought an opportunity might arise of transferring the + blessing to somebody else, that Mrs General was a name more honourable + than ever. + </p> + <p> + The phoenix was to let, on this elevated perch, when Mr Dorrit, who had + lately succeeded to his property, mentioned to his bankers that he wished + to discover a lady, well-bred, accomplished, well connected, well + accustomed to good society, who was qualified at once to complete the + education of his daughters, and to be their matron or chaperon. Mr + Dorrit’s bankers, as bankers of the county-widower, instantly said, ‘Mrs + General.’ + </p> + <p> + Pursuing the light so fortunately hit upon, and finding the concurrent + testimony of the whole of Mrs General’s acquaintance to be of the pathetic + nature already recorded, Mr Dorrit took the trouble of going down to the + county of the county-widower to see Mrs General, in whom he found a lady + of a quality superior to his highest expectations. + </p> + <p> + ‘Might I be excused,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘if I inquired—ha—what + remune—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, indeed,’ returned Mrs General, stopping the word, ‘it is a subject + on which I prefer to avoid entering. I have never entered on it with my + friends here; and I cannot overcome the delicacy, Mr Dorrit, with which I + have always regarded it. I am not, as I hope you are aware, a governess—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O dear no!’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Pray, madam, do not imagine for a moment + that I think so.’ He really blushed to be suspected of it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General gravely inclined her head. ‘I cannot, therefore, put a price + upon services which it is a pleasure to me to render if I can render them + spontaneously, but which I could not render in mere return for any + consideration. Neither do I know how, or where, to find a case parallel to + my own. It is peculiar.’ + </p> + <p> + No doubt. But how then (Mr Dorrit not unnaturally hinted) could the + subject be approached? + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot object,’ said Mrs General—‘though even that is + disagreeable to me—to Mr Dorrit’s inquiring, in confidence of my + friends here, what amount they have been accustomed, at quarterly + intervals, to pay to my credit at my bankers’.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit bowed his acknowledgements. + </p> + <p> + ‘Permit me to add,’ said Mrs General, ‘that beyond this, I can never + resume the topic. Also that I can accept no second or inferior position. + If the honour were proposed to me of becoming known to Mr Dorrit’s family—I + think two daughters were mentioned?—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two daughters.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I could only accept it on terms of perfect equality, as a companion, + protector, Mentor, and friend.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, in spite of his sense of his importance, felt as if it would be + quite a kindness in her to accept it on any conditions. He almost said as + much. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ repeated Mrs General, ‘two daughters were mentioned?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Two daughters,’ said Mr Dorrit again. + </p> + <p> + ‘It would therefore,’ said Mrs General, ‘be necessary to add a third more + to the payment (whatever its amount may prove to be), which my friends + here have been accustomed to make to my bankers’.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit lost no time in referring the delicate question to the + county-widower, and finding that he had been accustomed to pay three + hundred pounds a-year to the credit of Mrs General, arrived, without any + severe strain on his arithmetic, at the conclusion that he himself must + pay four. Mrs General being an article of that lustrous surface which + suggests that it is worth any money, he made a formal proposal to be + allowed to have the honour and pleasure of regarding her as a member of + his family. Mrs General conceded that high privilege, and here she was. + </p> + <p> + In person, Mrs General, including her skirts which had much to do with it, + was of a dignified and imposing appearance; ample, rustling, gravely + voluminous; always upright behind the proprieties. She might have been + taken—had been taken—to the top of the Alps and the bottom of + Herculaneum, without disarranging a fold in her dress, or displacing a + pin. If her countenance and hair had rather a floury appearance, as though + from living in some transcendently genteel Mill, it was rather because she + was a chalky creation altogether, than because she mended her complexion + with violet powder, or had turned grey. If her eyes had no expression, it + was probably because they had nothing to express. If she had few wrinkles, + it was because her mind had never traced its name or any other inscription + on her face. A cool, waxy, blown-out woman, who had never lighted well. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General had no opinions. Her way of forming a mind was to prevent it + from forming opinions. She had a little circular set of mental grooves or + rails on which she started little trains of other people’s opinions, which + never overtook one another, and never got anywhere. Even her propriety + could not dispute that there was impropriety in the world; but Mrs + General’s way of getting rid of it was to put it out of sight, and make + believe that there was no such thing. This was another of her ways of + forming a mind—to cram all articles of difficulty into cupboards, + lock them up, and say they had no existence. It was the easiest way, and, + beyond all comparison, the properest. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General was not to be told of anything shocking. Accidents, miseries, + and offences, were never to be mentioned before her. Passion was to go to + sleep in the presence of Mrs General, and blood was to change to milk and + water. The little that was left in the world, when all these deductions + were made, it was Mrs General’s province to varnish. In that formation + process of hers, she dipped the smallest of brushes into the largest of + pots, and varnished the surface of every object that came under + consideration. The more cracked it was, the more Mrs General varnished it. + </p> + <p> + There was varnish in Mrs General’s voice, varnish in Mrs General’s touch, + an atmosphere of varnish round Mrs General’s figure. Mrs General’s dreams + ought to have been varnished—if she had any—lying asleep in + the arms of the good Saint Bernard, with the feathery snow falling on his + house-top. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0039"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 3. On the Road + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he bright morning sun dazzled the eyes, the snow had ceased, the mists + had vanished, the mountain air was so clear and light that the new + sensation of breathing it was like the having entered on a new existence. + To help the delusion, the solid ground itself seemed gone, and the + mountain, a shining waste of immense white heaps and masses, to be a + region of cloud floating between the blue sky above and the earth far + below. + </p> + <p> + Some dark specks in the snow, like knots upon a little thread, beginning + at the convent door and winding away down the descent in broken lengths + which were not yet pieced together, showed where the Brethren were at work + in several places clearing the track. Already the snow had begun to be + foot-thawed again about the door. Mules were busily brought out, tied to + the rings in the wall, and laden; strings of bells were buckled on, + burdens were adjusted, the voices of drivers and riders sounded musically. + Some of the earliest had even already resumed their journey; and, both on + the level summit by the dark water near the convent, and on the downward + way of yesterday’s ascent, little moving figures of men and mules, reduced + to miniatures by the immensity around, went with a clear tinkling of bells + and a pleasant harmony of tongues. + </p> + <p> + In the supper-room of last night, a new fire, piled upon the feathery + ashes of the old one, shone upon a homely breakfast of loaves, butter, and + milk. It also shone on the courier of the Dorrit family, making tea for + his party from a supply he had brought up with him, together with several + other small stores which were chiefly laid in for the use of the strong + body of inconvenience. Mr Gowan and Blandois of Paris had already + breakfasted, and were walking up and down by the lake, smoking their + cigars. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gowan, eh?’ muttered Tip, otherwise Edward Dorrit, Esquire, turning over + the leaves of the book, when the courier had left them to breakfast. ‘Then + Gowan is the name of a puppy, that’s all I have got to say! If it was + worth my while, I’d pull his nose. But it isn’t worth my while—fortunately + for him. How’s his wife, Amy? I suppose you know. You generally know + things of that sort.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is better, Edward. But they are not going to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! They are not going to-day! Fortunately for that fellow too,’ said + Tip, ‘or he and I might have come into collision.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is thought better here that she should lie quiet to-day, and not be + fatigued and shaken by the ride down until to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With all my heart. But you talk as if you had been nursing her. You + haven’t been relapsing into (Mrs General is not here) into old habits, + have you, Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + He asked her the question with a sly glance of observation at Miss Fanny, + and at his father too. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have only been in to ask her if I could do anything for her, Tip,’ said + Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t call me Tip, Amy child,’ returned that young gentleman with a + frown; ‘because that’s an old habit, and one you may as well lay aside.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I didn’t mean to say so, Edward dear. I forgot. It was so natural once, + that it seemed at the moment the right word.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes!’ Miss Fanny struck in. ‘Natural, and right word, and once, and + all the rest of it! Nonsense, you little thing! I know perfectly well why + you have been taking such an interest in this Mrs Gowan. You can’t blind + <i>me</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not try to, Fanny. Don’t be angry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! angry!’ returned that young lady with a flounce. ‘I have no patience’ + (which indeed was the truth). + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, Fanny,’ said Mr Dorrit, raising his eyebrows, ‘what do you mean? + Explain yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Never mind, Pa,’ replied Miss Fanny, ‘it’s no great matter. Amy will + understand me. She knew, or knew of, this Mrs Gowan before yesterday, and + she may as well admit that she did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My child,’ said Mr Dorrit, turning to his younger daughter, ‘has your + sister—any—ha—authority for this curious statement?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘However meek we are,’ Miss Fanny struck in before she could answer, ‘we + don’t go creeping into people’s rooms on the tops of cold mountains, and + sitting perishing in the frost with people, unless we know something about + them beforehand. It’s not very hard to divine whose friend Mrs Gowan is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Whose friend?’ inquired her father. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pa, I am sorry to say,’ returned Miss Fanny, who had by this time + succeeded in goading herself into a state of much ill-usage and grievance, + which she was often at great pains to do: ‘that I believe her to be a + friend of that very objectionable and unpleasant person, who, with a total + absence of all delicacy, which our experience might have led us to expect + from him, insulted us and outraged our feelings in so public and wilful a + manner on an occasion to which it is understood among us that we will not + more pointedly allude.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my child,’ said Mr Dorrit, tempering a bland severity with a + dignified affection, ‘is this the case?’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit mildly answered, yes it was. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes it is!’ cried Miss Fanny. ‘Of course! I said so! And now, Pa, I do + declare once for all’—this young lady was in the habit of declaring + the same thing once for all every day of her life, and even several times + in a day—‘that this is shameful! I do declare once for all that it + ought to be put a stop to. Is it not enough that we have gone through what + is only known to ourselves, but are we to have it thrown in our faces, + perseveringly and systematically, by the very person who should spare our + feelings most? Are we to be exposed to this unnatural conduct every moment + of our lives? Are we never to be permitted to forget? I say again, it is + absolutely infamous!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Amy,’ observed her brother, shaking his head, ‘you know I stand by + you whenever I can, and on most occasions. But I must say, that, upon my + soul, I do consider it rather an unaccountable mode of showing your + sisterly affection, that you should back up a man who treated me in the + most ungentlemanly way in which one man can treat another. And who,’ he + added convincingly, ‘must be a low-minded thief, you know, or he never + could have conducted himself as he did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And see,’ said Miss Fanny, ‘see what is involved in this! Can we ever + hope to be respected by our servants? Never. Here are our two women, and + Pa’s valet, and a footman, and a courier, and all sorts of dependents, and + yet in the midst of these, we are to have one of ourselves rushing about + with tumblers of cold water, like a menial! Why, a policeman,’ said Miss + Fanny, ‘if a beggar had a fit in the street, could but go plunging about + with tumblers, as this very Amy did in this very room before our very eyes + last night!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t so much mind that, once in a way,’ remarked Mr Edward; ‘but your + Clennam, as he thinks proper to call himself, is another thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is part of the same thing,’ returned Miss Fanny, ‘and of a piece with + all the rest. He obtruded himself upon us in the first instance. We never + wanted him. I always showed him, for one, that I could have dispensed with + his company with the greatest pleasure. He then commits that gross outrage + upon our feelings, which he never could or would have committed but for + the delight he took in exposing us; and then we are to be demeaned for the + service of his friends! Why, I don’t wonder at this Mr Gowan’s conduct + towards you. What else was to be expected when he was enjoying our past + misfortunes—gloating over them at the moment!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Father—Edward—no indeed!’ pleaded Little Dorrit. ‘Neither Mr + nor Mrs Gowan had ever heard our name. They were, and they are, quite + ignorant of our history.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So much the worse,’ retorted Fanny, determined not to admit anything in + extenuation, ‘for then you have no excuse. If they had known about us, you + might have felt yourself called upon to conciliate them. That would have + been a weak and ridiculous mistake, but I can respect a mistake, whereas I + can’t respect a wilful and deliberate abasing of those who should be + nearest and dearest to us. No. I can’t respect that. I can do nothing but + denounce that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never offend you wilfully, Fanny,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘though you are + so hard with me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you should be more careful, Amy,’ returned her sister. ‘If you do + such things by accident, you should be more careful. If I happened to have + been born in a peculiar place, and under peculiar circumstances that + blunted my knowledge of propriety, I fancy I should think myself bound to + consider at every step, “Am I going, ignorantly, to compromise any near + and dear relations?” That is what I fancy <i>I</i> should do, if it was <i>my</i> + case.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit now interposed, at once to stop these painful subjects by his + authority, and to point their moral by his wisdom. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said he to his younger daughter, ‘I beg you to—ha—to + say no more. Your sister Fanny expresses herself strongly, but not without + considerable reason. You have now a—hum—a great position to + support. That great position is not occupied by yourself alone, but by—ha—by + me, and—ha hum—by us. Us. Now, it is incumbent upon all people + in an exalted position, but it is particularly so on this family, for + reasons which I—ha—will not dwell upon, to make themselves + respected. To be vigilant in making themselves respected. Dependants, to + respect us, must be—ha—kept at a distance and—hum—kept + down. Down. Therefore, your not exposing yourself to the remarks of our + attendants by appearing to have at any time dispensed with their services + and performed them for yourself, is—ha—highly important.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, who can doubt it?’ cried Miss Fanny. ‘It’s the essence of + everything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ returned her father, grandiloquently, ‘give me leave, my dear. We + then come to—ha—to Mr Clennam. I am free to say that I do not, + Amy, share your sister’s sentiments—that is to say altogether—hum— + altogether—in reference to Mr Clennam. I am content to regard that + individual in the light of—ha—generally—a well-behaved + person. Hum. A well-behaved person. Nor will I inquire whether Mr Clennam + did, at any time, obtrude himself on—ha—my society. He knew my + society to be—hum—sought, and his plea might be that he + regarded me in the light of a public character. But there were + circumstances attending my—ha—slight knowledge of Mr Clennam + (it was very slight), which,’ here Mr Dorrit became extremely grave and + impressive, ‘would render it highly indelicate in Mr Clennam to—ha—to + seek to renew communication with me or with any member of my family under + existing circumstances. If Mr Clennam has sufficient delicacy to perceive + the impropriety of any such attempt, I am bound as a responsible gentleman + to—ha—defer to that delicacy on his part. If, on the other + hand, Mr Clennam has not that delicacy, I cannot for a moment—ha—hold + any correspondence with so—hum—coarse a mind. In either case, + it would appear that Mr Clennam is put altogether out of the question, and + that we have nothing to do with him or he with us. Ha—Mrs General!’ + </p> + <p> + The entrance of the lady whom he announced, to take her place at the + breakfast-table, terminated the discussion. Shortly afterwards, the + courier announced that the valet, and the footman, and the two maids, and + the four guides, and the fourteen mules, were in readiness; so the + breakfast party went out to the convent door to join the cavalcade. + </p> + <p> + Mr Gowan stood aloof with his cigar and pencil, but Mr Blandois was on the + spot to pay his respects to the ladies. When he gallantly pulled off his + slouched hat to Little Dorrit, she thought he had even a more sinister + look, standing swart and cloaked in the snow, than he had in the + fire-light over-night. But, as both her father and her sister received his + homage with some favour, she refrained from expressing any distrust of + him, lest it should prove to be a new blemish derived from her prison + birth. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, as they wound down the rugged way while the convent was yet + in sight, she more than once looked round, and descried Mr Blandois, + backed by the convent smoke which rose straight and high from the chimneys + in a golden film, always standing on one jutting point looking down after + them. Long after he was a mere black stick in the snow, she felt as though + she could yet see that smile of his, that high nose, and those eyes that + were too near it. And even after that, when the convent was gone and some + light morning clouds veiled the pass below it, the ghastly skeleton arms + by the wayside seemed to be all pointing up at him. + </p> + <p> + More treacherous than snow, perhaps, colder at heart, and harder to melt, + Blandois of Paris by degrees passed out of her mind, as they came down + into the softer regions. Again the sun was warm, again the streams + descending from glaciers and snowy caverns were refreshing to drink at, + again they came among the pine-trees, the rocky rivulets, the verdant + heights and dales, the wooden chalets and rough zigzag fences of Swiss + country. Sometimes the way so widened that she and her father could ride + abreast. And then to look at him, handsomely clothed in his fur and + broadcloths, rich, free, numerously served and attended, his eyes roving + far away among the glories of the landscape, no miserable screen before + them to darken his sight and cast its shadow on him, was enough. + </p> + <p> + Her uncle was so far rescued from that shadow of old, that he wore the + clothes they gave him, and performed some ablutions as a sacrifice to the + family credit, and went where he was taken, with a certain patient animal + enjoyment, which seemed to express that the air and change did him good. + In all other respects, save one, he shone with no light but such as was + reflected from his brother. His brother’s greatness, wealth, freedom, and + grandeur, pleased him without any reference to himself. Silent and + retiring, he had no use for speech when he could hear his brother speak; + no desire to be waited on, so that the servants devoted themselves to his + brother. The only noticeable change he originated in himself, was an + alteration in his manner to his younger niece. Every day it refined more + and more into a marked respect, very rarely shown by age to youth, and + still more rarely susceptible, one would have said, of the fitness with + which he invested it. On those occasions when Miss Fanny did declare once + for all, he would take the next opportunity of baring his grey head before + his younger niece, and of helping her to alight, or handing her to the + carriage, or showing her any other attention, with the profoundest + deference. Yet it never appeared misplaced or forced, being always + heartily simple, spontaneous, and genuine. Neither would he ever consent, + even at his brother’s request, to be helped to any place before her, or to + take precedence of her in anything. So jealous was he of her being + respected, that, on this very journey down from the Great Saint Bernard, + he took sudden and violent umbrage at the footman’s being remiss to hold + her stirrup, though standing near when she dismounted; and unspeakably + astonished the whole retinue by charging at him on a hard-headed mule, + riding him into a corner, and threatening to trample him to death. + </p> + <p> + They were a goodly company, and the Innkeepers all but worshipped them. + Wherever they went, their importance preceded them in the person of the + courier riding before, to see that the rooms of state were ready. He was + the herald of the family procession. The great travelling-carriage came + next: containing, inside, Mr Dorrit, Miss Dorrit, Miss Amy Dorrit, and Mrs + General; outside, some of the retainers, and (in fine weather) Edward + Dorrit, Esquire, for whom the box was reserved. Then came the chariot + containing Frederick Dorrit, Esquire, and an empty place occupied by + Edward Dorrit, Esquire, in wet weather. Then came the fourgon with the + rest of the retainers, the heavy baggage, and as much as it could carry of + the mud and dust which the other vehicles left behind. + </p> + <p> + These equipages adorned the yard of the hotel at Martigny, on the return + of the family from their mountain excursion. Other vehicles were there, + much company being on the road, from the patched Italian Vettura—like + the body of a swing from an English fair put upon a wooden tray on wheels, + and having another wooden tray without wheels put atop of it—to the + trim English carriage. But there was another adornment of the hotel which + Mr Dorrit had not bargained for. Two strange travellers embellished one of + his rooms. + </p> + <p> + The Innkeeper, hat in hand in the yard, swore to the courier that he was + blighted, that he was desolated, that he was profoundly afflicted, that he + was the most miserable and unfortunate of beasts, that he had the head of + a wooden pig. He ought never to have made the concession, he said, but the + very genteel lady had so passionately prayed him for the accommodation of + that room to dine in, only for a little half-hour, that he had been + vanquished. The little half-hour was expired, the lady and gentleman were + taking their little dessert and half-cup of coffee, the note was paid, the + horses were ordered, they would depart immediately; but, owing to an + unhappy destiny and the curse of Heaven, they were not yet gone. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could exceed Mr Dorrit’s indignation, as he turned at the foot of + the staircase on hearing these apologies. He felt that the family dignity + was struck at by an assassin’s hand. He had a sense of his dignity, which + was of the most exquisite nature. He could detect a design upon it when + nobody else had any perception of the fact. His life was made an agony by + the number of fine scalpels that he felt to be incessantly engaged in + dissecting his dignity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it possible, sir,’ said Mr Dorrit, reddening excessively, ‘that you + have—ha—had the audacity to place one of my rooms at the + disposition of any other person?’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0411m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0411m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0411.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Thousands of pardons! It was the host’s profound misfortune to have been + overcome by that too genteel lady. He besought Monseigneur not to enrage + himself. He threw himself on Monseigneur for clemency. If Monseigneur + would have the distinguished goodness to occupy the other salon especially + reserved for him, for but five minutes, all would go well. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘I will not occupy any salon. I will leave your + house without eating or drinking, or setting foot in it. How do you dare + to act like this? Who am I that you—ha—separate me from other + gentlemen?’ + </p> + <p> + Alas! The host called all the universe to witness that Monseigneur was the + most amiable of the whole body of nobility, the most important, the most + estimable, the most honoured. If he separated Monseigneur from others, it + was only because he was more distinguished, more cherished, more generous, + more renowned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t tell me so, sir,’ returned Mr Dorrit, in a mighty heat. ‘You have + affronted me. You have heaped insults upon me. How dare you? Explain + yourself.’ + </p> + <p> + Ah, just Heaven, then, how could the host explain himself when he had + nothing more to explain; when he had only to apologise, and confide + himself to the so well-known magnanimity of Monseigneur! + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you, sir,’ said Mr Dorrit, panting with anger, ‘that you separate + me—ha—from other gentlemen; that you make distinctions between + me and other gentlemen of fortune and station. I demand of you, why? I + wish to know on—ha—what authority, on whose authority. Reply + sir. Explain. Answer why.’ + </p> + <p> + Permit the landlord humbly to submit to Monsieur the Courier then, that + Monseigneur, ordinarily so gracious, enraged himself without cause. There + was no why. Monsieur the Courier would represent to Monseigneur, that he + deceived himself in suspecting that there was any why, but the why his + devoted servant had already had the honour to present to him. The very + genteel lady— + </p> + <p> + ‘Silence!’ cried Mr Dorrit. ‘Hold your tongue! I will hear no more of the + very genteel lady; I will hear no more of you. Look at this family—my + family—a family more genteel than any lady. You have treated this + family with disrespect; you have been insolent to this family. I’ll ruin + you. Ha—send for the horses, pack the carriages, I’ll not set foot + in this man’s house again!’ + </p> + <p> + No one had interfered in the dispute, which was beyond the French + colloquial powers of Edward Dorrit, Esquire, and scarcely within the + province of the ladies. Miss Fanny, however, now supported her father with + great bitterness; declaring, in her native tongue, that it was quite clear + there was something special in this man’s impertinence; and that she + considered it important that he should be, by some means, forced to give + up his authority for making distinctions between that family and other + wealthy families. What the reasons of his presumption could be, she was at + a loss to imagine; but reasons he must have, and they ought to be torn + from him. + </p> + <p> + All the guides, mule-drivers, and idlers in the yard, had made themselves + parties to the angry conference, and were much impressed by the courier’s + now bestirring himself to get the carriages out. With the aid of some + dozen people to each wheel, this was done at a great cost of noise; and + then the loading was proceeded with, pending the arrival of the horses + from the post-house. + </p> + <p> + But the very genteel lady’s English chariot being already horsed and at + the inn-door, the landlord had slipped up-stairs to represent his hard + case. This was notified to the yard by his now coming down the staircase + in attendance on the gentleman and the lady, and by his pointing out the + offended majesty of Mr Dorrit to them with a significant motion of his + hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Beg your pardon,’ said the gentleman, detaching himself from the lady, + and coming forward. ‘I am a man of few words and a bad hand at an + explanation—but lady here is extremely anxious that there should be + no Row. Lady—a mother of mine, in point of fact—wishes me to + say that she hopes no Row.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, still panting under his injury, saluted the gentleman, and + saluted the lady, in a distant, final, and invincible manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, but really—here, old feller; you!’ This was the gentleman’s way + of appealing to Edward Dorrit, Esquire, on whom he pounced as a great and + providential relief. ‘Let you and I try to make this all right. Lady so + very much wishes no Row.’ + </p> + <p> + Edward Dorrit, Esquire, led a little apart by the button, assumed a + diplomatic expression of countenance in replying, ‘Why you must confess, + that when you bespeak a lot of rooms beforehand, and they belong to you, + it’s not pleasant to find other people in ‘em.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said the other, ‘I know it isn’t. I admit it. Still, let you and I + try to make it all right, and avoid Row. The fault is not this chap’s at + all, but my mother’s. Being a remarkably fine woman with no bigodd + nonsense about her—well educated, too—she was too many for + this chap. Regularly pocketed him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If that’s the case—’ Edward Dorrit, Esquire, began. + </p> + <p> + ‘Assure you ‘pon my soul ‘tis the case. Consequently,’ said the other + gentleman, retiring on his main position, ‘why Row?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund,’ said the lady from the doorway, ‘I hope you have explained, or + are explaining, to the satisfaction of this gentleman and his family that + the civil landlord is not to blame?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Assure you, ma’am,’ returned Edmund, ‘perfectly paralysing myself with + trying it on.’ He then looked steadfastly at Edward Dorrit, Esquire, for + some seconds, and suddenly added, in a burst of confidence, ‘Old feller! + <i>Is</i> it all right?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, after all,’ said the lady, gracefully advancing a step or + two towards Mr Dorrit, ‘but that I had better say myself, at once, that I + assured this good man I took all the consequences on myself of occupying + one of a stranger’s suite of rooms during his absence, for just as much + (or as little) time as I could dine in. I had no idea the rightful owner + would come back so soon, nor had I any idea that he had come back, or I + should have hastened to make restoration of my ill-gotten chamber, and to + have offered my explanation and apology. I trust in saying this—’ + </p> + <p> + For a moment the lady, with a glass at her eye, stood transfixed and + speechless before the two Miss Dorrits. At the same moment, Miss Fanny, in + the foreground of a grand pictorial composition, formed by the family, the + family equipages, and the family servants, held her sister tight under one + arm to detain her on the spot, and with the other arm fanned herself with + a distinguished air, and negligently surveyed the lady from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + The lady, recovering herself quickly—for it was Mrs Merdle and she + was not easily dashed—went on to add that she trusted in saying + this, she apologised for her boldness, and restored this well-behaved + landlord to the favour that was so very valuable to him. Mr Dorrit, on the + altar of whose dignity all this was incense, made a gracious reply; and + said that his people should—ha—countermand his horses, and he + would—hum—overlook what he had at first supposed to be an + affront, but now regarded as an honour. Upon this the bosom bent to him; + and its owner, with a wonderful command of feature, addressed a winning + smile of adieu to the two sisters, as young ladies of fortune in whose + favour she was much prepossessed, and whom she had never had the + gratification of seeing before. + </p> + <p> + Not so, however, Mr Sparkler. This gentleman, becoming transfixed at the + same moment as his lady-mother, could not by any means unfix himself + again, but stood stiffly staring at the whole composition with Miss Fanny + in the Foreground. On his mother saying, ‘Edmund, we are quite ready; will + you give me your arm?’ he seemed, by the motion of his lips, to reply with + some remark comprehending the form of words in which his shining talents + found the most frequent utterance, but he relaxed no muscle. So fixed was + his figure, that it would have been matter of some difficulty to bend him + sufficiently to get him in the carriage-door, if he had not received the + timely assistance of a maternal pull from within. He was no sooner within + than the pad of the little window in the back of the chariot disappeared, + and his eye usurped its place. There it remained as long as so small an + object was discernible, and probably much longer, staring (as though + something inexpressibly surprising should happen to a codfish) like an + ill-executed eye in a large locket. + </p> + <p> + This encounter was so highly agreeable to Miss Fanny, and gave her so much + to think of with triumph afterwards, that it softened her asperities + exceedingly. When the procession was again in motion next day, she + occupied her place in it with a new gaiety; and showed such a flow of + spirits indeed, that Mrs General looked rather surprised. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was glad to be found no fault with, and to see that Fanny + was pleased; but her part in the procession was a musing part, and a quiet + one. Sitting opposite her father in the travelling-carriage, and recalling + the old Marshalsea room, her present existence was a dream. All that she + saw was new and wonderful, but it was not real; it seemed to her as if + those visions of mountains and picturesque countries might melt away at + any moment, and the carriage, turning some abrupt corner, bring up with a + jolt at the old Marshalsea gate. + </p> + <p> + To have no work to do was strange, but not half so strange as having + glided into a corner where she had no one to think for, nothing to plan + and contrive, no cares of others to load herself with. Strange as that + was, it was far stranger yet to find a space between herself and her + father, where others occupied themselves in taking care of him, and where + she was never expected to be. At first, this was so much more unlike her + old experience than even the mountains themselves, that she had been + unable to resign herself to it, and had tried to retain her old place + about him. But he had spoken to her alone, and had said that people—ha—people + in an exalted position, my dear, must scrupulously exact respect from + their dependents; and that for her, his daughter, Miss Amy Dorrit, of the + sole remaining branch of the Dorrits of Dorsetshire, to be known to—hum—to + occupy herself in fulfilling the functions of—ha hum—a valet, + would be incompatible with that respect. Therefore, my dear, he—ha—he + laid his parental injunctions upon her, to remember that she was a lady, + who had now to conduct herself with—hum—a proper pride, and to + preserve the rank of a lady; and consequently he requested her to abstain + from doing what would occasion—ha—unpleasant and derogatory + remarks. She had obeyed without a murmur. Thus it had been brought about + that she now sat in her corner of the luxurious carriage with her little + patient hands folded before her, quite displaced even from the last point + of the old standing ground in life on which her feet had lingered. + </p> + <p> + It was from this position that all she saw appeared unreal; the more + surprising the scenes, the more they resembled the unreality of her own + inner life as she went through its vacant places all day long. The gorges + of the Simplon, its enormous depths and thundering waterfalls, the + wonderful road, the points of danger where a loose wheel or a faltering + horse would have been destruction, the descent into Italy, the opening of + that beautiful land as the rugged mountain-chasm widened and let them out + from a gloomy and dark imprisonment—all a dream—only the old + mean Marshalsea a reality. Nay, even the old mean Marshalsea was shaken to + its foundations when she pictured it without her father. She could + scarcely believe that the prisoners were still lingering in the close + yard, that the mean rooms were still every one tenanted, and that the + turnkey still stood in the Lodge letting people in and out, all just as + she well knew it to be. + </p> + <p> + With a remembrance of her father’s old life in prison hanging about her + like the burden of a sorrowful tune, Little Dorrit would wake from a dream + of her birth-place into a whole day’s dream. The painted room in which she + awoke, often a humbled state-chamber in a dilapidated palace, would begin + it; with its wild red autumnal vine-leaves overhanging the glass, its + orange-trees on the cracked white terrace outside the window, a group of + monks and peasants in the little street below, misery and magnificence + wrestling with each other upon every rood of ground in the prospect, no + matter how widely diversified, and misery throwing magnificence with the + strength of fate. To this would succeed a labyrinth of bare passages and + pillared galleries, with the family procession already preparing in the + quadrangle below, through the carriages and luggage being brought together + by the servants for the day’s journey. Then breakfast in another painted + chamber, damp-stained and of desolate proportions; and then the departure, + which, to her timidity and sense of not being grand enough for her place + in the ceremonies, was always an uneasy thing. For then the courier (who + himself would have been a foreign gentleman of high mark in the + Marshalsea) would present himself to report that all was ready; and then + her father’s valet would pompously induct him into his travelling-cloak; + and then Fanny’s maid, and her own maid (who was a weight on Little + Dorrit’s mind—absolutely made her cry at first, she knew so little + what to do with her), would be in attendance; and then her brother’s man + would complete his master’s equipment; and then her father would give his + arm to Mrs General, and her uncle would give his to her, and, escorted by + the landlord and Inn servants, they would swoop down-stairs. There, a + crowd would be collected to see them enter their carriages, which, amidst + much bowing, and begging, and prancing, and lashing, and clattering, they + would do; and so they would be driven madly through narrow unsavoury + streets, and jerked out at the town gate. + </p> + <p> + Among the day’s unrealities would be roads where the bright red vines were + looped and garlanded together on trees for many miles; woods of olives; + white villages and towns on hill-sides, lovely without, but frightful in + their dirt and poverty within; crosses by the way; deep blue lakes with + fairy islands, and clustering boats with awnings of bright colours and + sails of beautiful forms; vast piles of building mouldering to dust; + hanging-gardens where the weeds had grown so strong that their stems, like + wedges driven home, had split the arch and rent the wall; stone-terraced + lanes, with the lizards running into and out of every chink; beggars of + all sorts everywhere: pitiful, picturesque, hungry, merry; children + beggars and aged beggars. Often at posting-houses and other halting + places, these miserable creatures would appear to her the only realities + of the day; and many a time, when the money she had brought to give them + was all given away, she would sit with her folded hands, thoughtfully + looking after some diminutive girl leading her grey father, as if the + sight reminded her of something in the days that were gone. + </p> + <p> + Again, there would be places where they stayed the week together in + splendid rooms, had banquets every day, rode out among heaps of wonders, + walked through miles of palaces, and rested in dark corners of great + churches; where there were winking lamps of gold and silver among pillars + and arches, kneeling figures dotted about at confessionals and on the + pavements; where there was the mist and scent of incense; where there were + pictures, fantastic images, gaudy altars, great heights and distances, all + softly lighted through stained glass, and the massive curtains that hung + in the doorways. From these cities they would go on again, by the roads of + vines and olives, through squalid villages, where there was not a hovel + without a gap in its filthy walls, not a window with a whole inch of glass + or paper; where there seemed to be nothing to support life, nothing to + eat, nothing to make, nothing to grow, nothing to hope, nothing to do but + die. + </p> + <p> + Again they would come to whole towns of palaces, whose proper inmates were + all banished, and which were all changed into barracks: troops of idle + soldiers leaning out of the state windows, where their accoutrements hung + drying on the marble architecture, and showing to the mind like hosts of + rats who were (happily) eating away the props of the edifices that + supported them, and must soon, with them, be smashed on the heads of the + other swarms of soldiers and the swarms of priests, and the swarms of + spies, who were all the ill-looking population left to be ruined, in the + streets below. + </p> + <p> + Through such scenes, the family procession moved on to Venice. And here it + dispersed for a time, as they were to live in Venice some few months in a + palace (itself six times as big as the whole Marshalsea) on the Grand + Canal. + </p> + <p> + In this crowning unreality, where all the streets were paved with water, + and where the deathlike stillness of the days and nights was broken by no + sound but the softened ringing of church-bells, the rippling of the + current, and the cry of the gondoliers turning the corners of the flowing + streets, Little Dorrit, quite lost by her task being done, sat down to + muse. The family began a gay life, went here and there, and turned night + into day; but she was timid of joining in their gaieties, and only asked + leave to be left alone. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she would step into one of the gondolas that were always kept in + waiting, moored to painted posts at the door—when she could escape + from the attendance of that oppressive maid, who was her mistress, and a + very hard one—and would be taken all over the strange city. Social + people in other gondolas began to ask each other who the little solitary + girl was whom they passed, sitting in her boat with folded hands, looking + so pensively and wonderingly about her. Never thinking that it would be + worth anybody’s while to notice her or her doings, Little Dorrit, in her + quiet, scared, lost manner, went about the city none the less. + </p> + <p> + But her favourite station was the balcony of her own room, overhanging the + canal, with other balconies below, and none above. It was of massive stone + darkened by ages, built in a wild fancy which came from the East to that + collection of wild fancies; and Little Dorrit was little indeed, leaning + on the broad-cushioned ledge, and looking over. As she liked no place of + an evening half so well, she soon began to be watched for, and many eyes + in passing gondolas were raised, and many people said, There was the + little figure of the English girl who was always alone. + </p> + <p> + Such people were not realities to the little figure of the English girl; + such people were all unknown to her. She would watch the sunset, in its + long low lines of purple and red, and its burning flush high up into the + sky: so glowing on the buildings, and so lightening their structure, that + it made them look as if their strong walls were transparent, and they + shone from within. She would watch those glories expire; and then, after + looking at the black gondolas underneath, taking guests to music and + dancing, would raise her eyes to the shining stars. Was there no party of + her own, in other times, on which the stars had shone? To think of that + old gate now! + </p> + <p> + She would think of that old gate, and of herself sitting at it in the dead + of the night, pillowing Maggy’s head; and of other places and of other + scenes associated with those different times. And then she would lean upon + her balcony, and look over at the water, as though they all lay underneath + it. When she got to that, she would musingly watch its running, as if, in + the general vision, it might run dry, and show her the prison again, and + herself, and the old room, and the old inmates, and the old visitors: all + lasting realities that had never changed. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0040"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 4. A Letter from Little Dorrit + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ear Mr Clennam, + </p> + <p> + I write to you from my own room at Venice, thinking you will be glad to + hear from me. But I know you cannot be so glad to hear from me as I am to + write to you; for everything about you is as you have been accustomed to + see it, and you miss nothing—unless it should be me, which can only + be for a very little while together and very seldom—while everything + in my life is so strange, and I miss so much. + </p> + <p> + When we were in Switzerland, which appears to have been years ago, though + it was only weeks, I met young Mrs Gowan, who was on a mountain excursion + like ourselves. She told me she was very well and very happy. She sent you + the message, by me, that she thanked you affectionately and would never + forget you. She was quite confiding with me, and I loved her almost as + soon as I spoke to her. But there is nothing singular in that; who could + help loving so beautiful and winning a creature! I could not wonder at any + one loving her. No indeed. + </p> + <p> + It will not make you uneasy on Mrs Gowan’s account, I hope—for I + remember that you said you had the interest of a true friend in her—if + I tell you that I wish she could have married some one better suited to + her. Mr Gowan seems fond of her, and of course she is very fond of him, + but I thought he was not earnest enough—I don’t mean in that respect—I + mean in anything. I could not keep it out of my mind that if I was Mrs + Gowan (what a change that would be, and how I must alter to become like + her!) I should feel that I was rather lonely and lost, for the want of + some one who was steadfast and firm in purpose. I even thought she felt + this want a little, almost without knowing it. But mind you are not made + uneasy by this, for she was ‘very well and very happy.’ And she looked + most beautiful. + </p> + <p> + I expect to meet her again before long, and indeed have been expecting for + some days past to see her here. I will ever be as good a friend to her as + I can for your sake. Dear Mr Clennam, I dare say you think little of + having been a friend to me when I had no other (not that I have any other + now, for I have made no new friends), but I think much of it, and I never + can forget it. + </p> + <p> + I wish I knew—but it is best for no one to write to me—how Mr + and Mrs Plornish prosper in the business which my dear father bought for + them, and that old Mr Nandy lives happily with them and his two + grandchildren, and sings all his songs over and over again. I cannot quite + keep back the tears from my eyes when I think of my poor Maggy, and of the + blank she must have felt at first, however kind they all are to her, + without her Little Mother. Will you go and tell her, as a strict secret, + with my love, that she never can have regretted our separation more than I + have regretted it? And will you tell them all that I have thought of them + every day, and that my heart is faithful to them everywhere? O, if you + could know how faithful, you would almost pity me for being so far away + and being so grand! + </p> + <p> + You will be glad, I am sure, to know that my dear father is very well in + health, and that all these changes are highly beneficial to him, and that + he is very different indeed from what he used to be when you used to see + him. There is an improvement in my uncle too, I think, though he never + complained of old, and never exults now. Fanny is very graceful, quick, + and clever. It is natural to her to be a lady; she has adapted herself to + our new fortunes with wonderful ease. + </p> + <p> + This reminds me that I have not been able to do so, and that I sometimes + almost despair of ever being able to do so. I find that I cannot learn. + Mrs General is always with us, and we speak French and speak Italian, and + she takes pains to form us in many ways. When I say we speak French and + Italian, I mean they do. As for me, I am so slow that I scarcely get on at + all. As soon as I begin to plan, and think, and try, all my planning, + thinking, and trying go in old directions, and I begin to feel careful + again about the expenses of the day, and about my dear father, and about + my work, and then I remember with a start that there are no such cares + left, and that in itself is so new and improbable that it sets me + wandering again. I should not have the courage to mention this to any one + but you. + </p> + <p> + It is the same with all these new countries and wonderful sights. They are + very beautiful, and they astonish me, but I am not collected enough—not + familiar enough with myself, if you can quite understand what I mean—to + have all the pleasure in them that I might have. What I knew before them, + blends with them, too, so curiously. For instance, when we were among the + mountains, I often felt (I hesitate to tell such an idle thing, dear Mr + Clennam, even to you) as if the Marshalsea must be behind that great rock; + or as if Mrs Clennam’s room where I have worked so many days, and where I + first saw you, must be just beyond that snow. Do you remember one night + when I came with Maggy to your lodging in Covent Garden? That room I have + often and often fancied I have seen before me, travelling along for miles + by the side of our carriage, when I have looked out of the carriage-window + after dark. We were shut out that night, and sat at the iron gate, and + walked about till morning. I often look up at the stars, even from the + balcony of this room, and believe that I am in the street again, shut out + with Maggy. It is the same with people that I left in England. + </p> + <p> + When I go about here in a gondola, I surprise myself looking into other + gondolas as if I hoped to see them. It would overcome me with joy to see + them, but I don’t think it would surprise me much, at first. In my + fanciful times, I fancy that they might be anywhere; and I almost expect + to see their dear faces on the bridges or the quays. + </p> + <p> + Another difficulty that I have will seem very strange to you. It must seem + very strange to any one but me, and does even to me: I often feel the old + sad pity for—I need not write the word—for him. Changed as he + is, and inexpressibly blest and thankful as I always am to know it, the + old sorrowful feeling of compassion comes upon me sometimes with such + strength that I want to put my arms round his neck, tell him how I love + him, and cry a little on his breast. I should be glad after that, and + proud and happy. But I know that I must not do this; that he would not + like it, that Fanny would be angry, that Mrs General would be amazed; and + so I quiet myself. Yet in doing so, I struggle with the feeling that I + have come to be at a distance from him; and that even in the midst of all + the servants and attendants, he is deserted, and in want of me. + </p> + <p> + Dear Mr Clennam, I have written a great deal about myself, but I must + write a little more still, or what I wanted most of all to say in this + weak letter would be left out of it. In all these foolish thoughts of + mine, which I have been so hardy as to confess to you because I know you + will understand me if anybody can, and will make more allowance for me + than anybody else would if you cannot—in all these thoughts, there + is one thought scarcely ever—never—out of my memory, and that + is that I hope you sometimes, in a quiet moment, have a thought for me. I + must tell you that as to this, I have felt, ever since I have been away, + an anxiety which I am very anxious to relieve. I have been afraid that you + may think of me in a new light, or a new character. Don’t do that, I could + not bear that—it would make me more unhappy than you can suppose. It + would break my heart to believe that you thought of me in any way that + would make me stranger to you than I was when you were so good to me. What + I have to pray and entreat of you is, that you will never think of me as + the daughter of a rich person; that you will never think of me as dressing + any better, or living any better, than when you first knew me. That you + will remember me only as the little shabby girl you protected with so much + tenderness, from whose threadbare dress you have kept away the rain, and + whose wet feet you have dried at your fire. That you will think of me + (when you think of me at all), and of my true affection and devoted + gratitude, always without change, as of + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Your poor child, + </p> + <h3> + <br> <br> <br> <br> LITTLE + DORRIT.= + </h3> + <p> + P.S.—Particularly remember that you are not to be uneasy about Mrs + Gowan. Her words were, ‘Very well and very happy.’ And she looked most + beautiful. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0041"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 5. Something Wrong Somewhere + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he family had been a month or two at Venice, when Mr Dorrit, who was much + among Counts and Marquises, and had but scant leisure, set an hour of one + day apart, beforehand, for the purpose of holding some conference with Mrs + General. + </p> + <p> + The time he had reserved in his mind arriving, he sent Mr Tinkler, his + valet, to Mrs General’s apartment (which would have absorbed about a third + of the area of the Marshalsea), to present his compliments to that lady, + and represent him as desiring the favour of an interview. It being that + period of the forenoon when the various members of the family had coffee + in their own chambers, some couple of hours before assembling at breakfast + in a faded hall which had once been sumptuous, but was now the prey of + watery vapours and a settled melancholy, Mrs General was accessible to the + valet. That envoy found her on a little square of carpet, so extremely + diminutive in reference to the size of her stone and marble floor that she + looked as if she might have had it spread for the trying on of a + ready-made pair of shoes; or as if she had come into possession of the + enchanted piece of carpet, bought for forty purses by one of the three + princes in the Arabian Nights, and had that moment been transported on it, + at a wish, into a palatial saloon with which it had no connection. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General, replying to the envoy, as she set down her empty coffee-cup, + that she was willing at once to proceed to Mr Dorrit’s apartment, and + spare him the trouble of coming to her (which, in his gallantry, he had + proposed), the envoy threw open the door, and escorted Mrs General to the + presence. It was quite a walk, by mysterious staircases and corridors, + from Mrs General’s apartment,—hoodwinked by a narrow side street + with a low gloomy bridge in it, and dungeon-like opposite tenements, their + walls besmeared with a thousand downward stains and streaks, as if every + crazy aperture in them had been weeping tears of rust into the Adriatic + for centuries—to Mr Dorrit’s apartment: with a whole English + house-front of window, a prospect of beautiful church-domes rising into + the blue sky sheer out of the water which reflected them, and a hushed + murmur of the Grand Canal laving the doorways below, where his gondolas + and gondoliers attended his pleasure, drowsily swinging in a little forest + of piles. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, in a resplendent dressing-gown and cap—the dormant grub + that had so long bided its time among the Collegians had burst into a rare + butterfly—rose to receive Mrs General. A chair to Mrs General. An + easier chair, sir; what are you doing, what are you about, what do you + mean? Now, leave us! + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs General,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘I took the liberty—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By no means,’ Mrs General interposed. ‘I was quite at your disposition. I + had had my coffee.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘—I took the liberty,’ said Mr Dorrit again, with the magnificent + placidity of one who was above correction, ‘to solicit the favour of a + little private conversation with you, because I feel rather worried + respecting my—ha—my younger daughter. You will have observed a + great difference of temperament, madam, between my two daughters?’ + </p> + <p> + Said Mrs General in response, crossing her gloved hands (she was never + without gloves, and they never creased and always fitted), ‘There is a + great difference.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask to be favoured with your view of it?’ said Mr Dorrit, with a + deference not incompatible with majestic serenity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ returned Mrs General, ‘has force of character and self-reliance. + Amy, none.’ + </p> + <p> + None? O Mrs General, ask the Marshalsea stones and bars. O Mrs General, + ask the milliner who taught her to work, and the dancing-master who taught + her sister to dance. O Mrs General, Mrs General, ask me, her father, what + I owe her; and hear my testimony touching the life of this slighted little + creature from her childhood up! + </p> + <p> + No such adjuration entered Mr. Dorrit’s head. He looked at Mrs General, + seated in her usual erect attitude on her coach-box behind the + proprieties, and he said in a thoughtful manner, ‘True, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would not,’ said Mrs General, ‘be understood to say, observe, that + there is nothing to improve in Fanny. But there is material there—perhaps, + indeed, a little too much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you be kind enough, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘to be—ha—more + explicit? I do not quite understand my elder daughter’s having—hum—too + much material. What material?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ returned Mrs General, ‘at present forms too many opinions. + Perfect breeding forms none, and is never demonstrative.’ + </p> + <p> + Lest he himself should be found deficient in perfect breeding, Mr Dorrit + hastened to reply, ‘Unquestionably, madam, you are right.’ Mrs General + returned, in her emotionless and expressionless manner, ‘I believe so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are aware, my dear madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘that my daughters had + the misfortune to lose their lamented mother when they were very young; + and that, in consequence of my not having been until lately the recognised + heir to my property, they have lived with me as a comparatively poor, + though always proud, gentleman, in—ha hum—retirement!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not,’ said Mrs General, ‘lose sight of the circumstance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Madam,’ pursued Mr Dorrit, ‘of my daughter Fanny, under her present + guidance and with such an example constantly before her—’ + </p> + <p> + (Mrs General shut her eyes.) + </p> + <p> + —‘I have no misgivings. There is adaptability of character in Fanny. + But my younger daughter, Mrs General, rather worries and vexes my + thoughts. I must inform you that she has always been my favourite.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is no accounting,’ said Mrs General, ‘for these partialities.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ha—no,’ assented Mr Dorrit. ‘No. Now, madam, I am troubled by + noticing that Amy is not, so to speak, one of ourselves. She does not care + to go about with us; she is lost in the society we have here; our tastes + are evidently not her tastes. Which,’ said Mr Dorrit, summing up with + judicial gravity, ‘is to say, in other words, that there is something + wrong in—ha—Amy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May we incline to the supposition,’ said Mrs General, with a little touch + of varnish, ‘that something is referable to the novelty of the position?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Excuse me, madam,’ observed Mr Dorrit, rather quickly. ‘The daughter of a + gentleman, though—ha—himself at one time comparatively far + from affluent—comparatively—and herself reared in—hum—retirement, + need not of necessity find this position so very novel.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True,’ said Mrs General, ‘true.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Therefore, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘I took the liberty’ (he laid an + emphasis on the phrase and repeated it, as though he stipulated, with + urbane firmness, that he must not be contradicted again), ‘I took the + liberty of requesting this interview, in order that I might mention the + topic to you, and inquire how you would advise me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit,’ returned Mrs General, ‘I have conversed with Amy several + times since we have been residing here, on the general subject of the + formation of a demeanour. She has expressed herself to me as wondering + exceedingly at Venice. I have mentioned to her that it is better not to + wonder. I have pointed out to her that the celebrated Mr Eustace, the + classical tourist, did not think much of it; and that he compared the + Rialto, greatly to its disadvantage, with Westminster and Blackfriars + Bridges. I need not add, after what you have said, that I have not yet + found my arguments successful. You do me the honour to ask me what to + advise. It always appears to me (if this should prove to be a baseless + assumption, I shall be pardoned), that Mr Dorrit has been accustomed to + exercise influence over the minds of others.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hum—madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘I have been at the head of—ha of + a considerable community. You are right in supposing that I am not + unaccustomed to—an influential position.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am happy,’ returned Mrs General, ‘to be so corroborated. I would + therefore the more confidently recommend that Mr Dorrit should speak to + Amy himself, and make his observations and wishes known to her. Being his + favourite, besides, and no doubt attached to him, she is all the more + likely to yield to his influence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had anticipated your suggestion, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘but—ha—was + not sure that I might—hum—not encroach on—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On my province, Mr Dorrit?’ said Mrs General, graciously. ‘Do not mention + it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, with your leave, madam,’ resumed Mr Dorrit, ringing his little bell + to summon his valet, ‘I will send for her at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does Mr Dorrit wish me to remain?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps, if you have no other engagement, you would not object for a + minute or two—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all.’ + </p> + <p> + So, Tinkler the valet was instructed to find Miss Amy’s maid, and to + request that subordinate to inform Miss Amy that Mr Dorrit wished to see + her in his own room. In delivering this charge to Tinkler, Mr Dorrit + looked severely at him, and also kept a jealous eye upon him until he went + out at the door, mistrusting that he might have something in his mind + prejudicial to the family dignity; that he might have even got wind of + some Collegiate joke before he came into the service, and might be + derisively reviving its remembrance at the present moment. If Tinkler had + happened to smile, however faintly and innocently, nothing would have + persuaded Mr Dorrit, to the hour of his death, but that this was the case. + As Tinkler happened, however, very fortunately for himself, to be of a + serious and composed countenance, he escaped the secret danger that + threatened him. And as on his return—when Mr Dorrit eyed him again—he + announced Miss Amy as if she had come to a funeral, he left a vague + impression on Mr Dorrit’s mind that he was a well-conducted young fellow, + who had been brought up in the study of his Catechism by a widowed mother. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘you have just now been the subject of some + conversation between myself and Mrs General. We agree that you scarcely + seem at home here. Ha—how is this?’ + </p> + <p> + A pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, father, I require a little time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa is a preferable mode of address,’ observed Mrs General. ‘Father is + rather vulgar, my dear. The word Papa, besides, gives a pretty form to the + lips. Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism are all very good words + for the lips: especially prunes and prism. You will find it serviceable, + in the formation of a demeanour, if you sometimes say to yourself in + company—on entering a room, for instance—Papa, potatoes, + poultry, prunes and prism, prunes and prism.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, my child,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘attend to the—hum—precepts + of Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Little Dorrit, with a rather forlorn glance at that eminent + varnisher, promised to try. + </p> + <p> + ‘You say, Amy,’ pursued Mr Dorrit, ‘that you think you require time. Time + for what?’ + </p> + <p> + Another pause. + </p> + <p> + ‘To become accustomed to the novelty of my life, was all I meant,’ said + Little Dorrit, with her loving eyes upon her father; whom she had very + nearly addressed as poultry, if not prunes and prism too, in her desire to + submit herself to Mrs General and please him. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit frowned, and looked anything but pleased. ‘Amy,’ he returned, + ‘it appears to me, I must say, that you have had abundance of time for + that. Ha—you surprise me. You disappoint me. Fanny has conquered any + such little difficulties, and—hum—why not you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope I shall do better soon,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope so,’ returned her father. ‘I—ha—I most devoutly hope + so, Amy. I sent for you, in order that I might say—hum—impressively + say, in the presence of Mrs General, to whom we are all so much indebted + for obligingly being present among us, on—ha—on this or any + other occasion,’ Mrs General shut her eyes, ‘that I—ha hum—am + not pleased with you. You make Mrs General’s a thankless task. You—ha—embarrass + me very much. You have always (as I have informed Mrs General) been my + favourite child; I have always made you a—hum—a friend and + companion; in return, I beg—I—ha—I <i>do</i> beg, that + you accommodate yourself better to—hum—circumstances, and + dutifully do what becomes your—your station.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was even a little more fragmentary than usual, being excited on + the subject and anxious to make himself particularly emphatic. + </p> + <p> + ‘I do beg,’ he repeated, ‘that this may be attended to, and that you will + seriously take pains and try to conduct yourself in a manner both becoming + your position as—ha—Miss Amy Dorrit, and satisfactory to + myself and Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + That lady shut her eyes again, on being again referred to; then, slowly + opening them and rising, added these words: + </p> + <p> + ‘If Miss Amy Dorrit will direct her own attention to, and will accept of + my poor assistance in, the formation of a surface, Mr. Dorrit will have no + further cause of anxiety. May I take this opportunity of remarking, as an + instance in point, that it is scarcely delicate to look at vagrants with + the attention which I have seen bestowed upon them by a very dear young + friend of mine? They should not be looked at. Nothing disagreeable should + ever be looked at. Apart from such a habit standing in the way of that + graceful equanimity of surface which is so expressive of good breeding, it + hardly seems compatible with refinement of mind. A truly refined mind will + seem to be ignorant of the existence of anything that is not perfectly + proper, placid, and pleasant.’ Having delivered this exalted sentiment, + Mrs General made a sweeping obeisance, and retired with an expression of + mouth indicative of Prunes and Prism. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, whether speaking or silent, had preserved her quiet + earnestness and her loving look. It had not been clouded, except for a + passing moment, until now. But now that she was left alone with him the + fingers of her lightly folded hands were agitated, and there was repressed + emotion in her face. + </p> + <p> + Not for herself. She might feel a little wounded, but her care was not for + herself. Her thoughts still turned, as they always had turned, to him. A + faint misgiving, which had hung about her since their accession to + fortune, that even now she could never see him as he used to be before the + prison days, had gradually begun to assume form in her mind. She felt + that, in what he had just now said to her and in his whole bearing towards + her, there was the well-known shadow of the Marshalsea wall. It took a new + shape, but it was the old sad shadow. She began with sorrowful + unwillingness to acknowledge to herself that she was not strong enough to + keep off the fear that no space in the life of man could overcome that + quarter of a century behind the prison bars. She had no blame to bestow + upon him, therefore: nothing to reproach him with, no emotions in her + faithful heart but great compassion and unbounded tenderness. + </p> + <p> + This is why it was, that, even as he sat before her on his sofa, in the + brilliant light of a bright Italian day, the wonderful city without and + the splendours of an old palace within, she saw him at the moment in the + long-familiar gloom of his Marshalsea lodging, and wished to take her seat + beside him, and comfort him, and be again full of confidence with him, and + of usefulness to him. If he divined what was in her thoughts, his own were + not in tune with it. After some uneasy moving in his seat, he got up and + walked about, looking very much dissatisfied. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is there anything else you wish to say to me, dear father?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no. Nothing else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry you have not been pleased with me, dear. I hope you will not + think of me with displeasure now. I am going to try, more than ever, to + adapt myself as you wish to what surrounds me—for indeed I have + tried all along, though I have failed, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy,’ he returned, turning short upon her. ‘You—ha—habitually + hurt me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hurt you, father! I!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is a—hum—a topic,’ said Mr Dorrit, looking all about + the ceiling of the room, and never at the attentive, uncomplainingly + shocked face, ‘a painful topic, a series of events which I wish—ha—altogether + to obliterate. This is understood by your sister, who has already + remonstrated with you in my presence; it is understood by your brother; it + is understood by—ha hum—by every one of delicacy and + sensitiveness except yourself—ha—I am sorry to say, except + yourself. You, Amy—hum—you alone and only you—constantly + revive the topic, though not in words.’ + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand on his arm. She did nothing more. She gently touched + him. The trembling hand may have said, with some expression, ‘Think of me, + think how I have worked, think of my many cares!’ But she said not a + syllable herself. + </p> + <p> + There was a reproach in the touch so addressed to him that she had not + foreseen, or she would have withheld her hand. He began to justify himself + in a heated, stumbling, angry manner, which made nothing of it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was there all those years. I was—ha—universally + acknowledged as the head of the place. I—hum—I caused you to + be respected there, Amy. I—ha hum—I gave my family a position + there. I deserve a return. I claim a return. I say, sweep it off the face + of the earth and begin afresh. Is that much? I ask, is <i>that</i> much?’ + </p> + <p> + He did not once look at her, as he rambled on in this way; but + gesticulated at, and appealed to, the empty air. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have suffered. Probably I know how much I have suffered better than any + one—ha—I say than any one! If <i>I</i> can put that aside, if + <i>I</i> can eradicate the marks of what I have endured, and can emerge + before the world—a—ha—gentleman unspoiled, unspotted—is + it a great deal to expect—I say again, is it a great deal to expect—that + my children should—hum—do the same and sweep that accursed + experience off the face of the earth?’ + </p> + <p> + In spite of his flustered state, he made all these exclamations in a + carefully suppressed voice, lest the valet should overhear anything. + </p> + <p> + ‘Accordingly, they do it. Your sister does it. Your brother does it. You + alone, my favourite child, whom I made the friend and companion of my life + when you were a mere—hum—Baby, do not do it. You alone say you + can’t do it. I provide you with valuable assistance to do it. I attach an + accomplished and highly bred lady—ha—Mrs General, to you, for + the purpose of doing it. Is it surprising that I should be displeased? Is + it necessary that I should defend myself for expressing my displeasure? + No!’ + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding which, he continued to defend himself, without any + abatement of his flushed mood. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am careful to appeal to that lady for confirmation, before I express + any displeasure at all. I—hum—I necessarily make that appeal + within limited bounds, or I—ha—should render legible, by that + lady, what I desire to be blotted out. Am I selfish? Do I complain for my + own sake? No. No. Principally for—ha hum—your sake, Amy.’ + </p> + <p> + This last consideration plainly appeared, from his manner of pursuing it, + to have just that instant come into his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘I said I was hurt. So I am. So I—ha—am determined to be, + whatever is advanced to the contrary. I am hurt that my daughter, seated + in the—hum—lap of fortune, should mope and retire and proclaim + herself unequal to her destiny. I am hurt that she should—ha—systematically + reproduce what the rest of us blot out; and seem—hum—I had + almost said positively anxious—to announce to wealthy and + distinguished society that she was born and bred in—ha hum—a + place that I myself decline to name. But there is no inconsistency—ha—not + the least, in my feeling hurt, and yet complaining principally for your + sake, Amy. I do; I say again, I do. It is for your sake that I wish you, + under the auspices of Mrs General, to form a—hum—a surface. It + is for your sake that I wish you to have a—ha—truly refined + mind, and (in the striking words of Mrs General) to be ignorant of + everything that is not perfectly proper, placid, and pleasant.’ + </p> + <p> + He had been running down by jerks, during his last speech, like a sort of + ill-adjusted alarum. The touch was still upon his arm. He fell silent; and + after looking about the ceiling again for a little while, looked down at + her. Her head drooped, and he could not see her face; but her touch was + tender and quiet, and in the expression of her dejected figure there was + no blame—nothing but love. He began to whimper, just as he had done + that night in the prison when she afterwards sat at his bedside till + morning; exclaimed that he was a poor ruin and a poor wretch in the midst + of his wealth; and clasped her in his arms. ‘Hush, hush, my own dear! Kiss + me!’ was all she said to him. His tears were soon dried, much sooner than + on the former occasion; and he was presently afterwards very high with his + valet, as a way of righting himself for having shed any. + </p> + <p> + With one remarkable exception, to be recorded in its place, this was the + only time, in his life of freedom and fortune, when he spoke to his + daughter Amy of the old days. + </p> + <p> + But, now, the breakfast hour arrived; and with it Miss Fanny from her + apartment, and Mr Edward from his apartment. Both these young persons of + distinction were something the worse for late hours. As to Miss Fanny, she + had become the victim of an insatiate mania for what she called ‘going + into society;’ and would have gone into it head-foremost fifty times + between sunset and sunrise, if so many opportunities had been at her + disposal. As to Mr Edward, he, too, had a large acquaintance, and was + generally engaged (for the most part, in diceing circles, or others of a + kindred nature), during the greater part of every night. For this + gentleman, when his fortunes changed, had stood at the great advantage of + being already prepared for the highest associates, and having little to + learn: so much was he indebted to the happy accidents which had made him + acquainted with horse-dealing and billiard-marking. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast, Mr Frederick Dorrit likewise appeared. As the old gentleman + inhabited the highest story of the palace, where he might have practised + pistol-shooting without much chance of discovery by the other inmates, his + younger niece had taken courage to propose the restoration to him of his + clarionet, which Mr Dorrit had ordered to be confiscated, but which she + had ventured to preserve. Notwithstanding some objections from Miss Fanny, + that it was a low instrument, and that she detested the sound of it, the + concession had been made. But it was then discovered that he had had + enough of it, and never played it, now that it was no longer his means of + getting bread. He had insensibly acquired a new habit of shuffling into + the picture-galleries, always with his twisted paper of snuff in his hand + (much to the indignation of Miss Fanny, who had proposed the purchase of a + gold box for him that the family might not be discredited, which he had + absolutely refused to carry when it was bought); and of passing hours and + hours before the portraits of renowned Venetians. It was never made out + what his dazed eyes saw in them; whether he had an interest in them merely + as pictures, or whether he confusedly identified them with a glory that + was departed, like the strength of his own mind. But he paid his court to + them with great exactness, and clearly derived pleasure from the pursuit. + After the first few days, Little Dorrit happened one morning to assist at + these attentions. It so evidently heightened his gratification that she + often accompanied him afterwards, and the greatest delight of which the + old man had shown himself susceptible since his ruin, arose out of these + excursions, when he would carry a chair about for her from picture to + picture, and stand behind it, in spite of all her remonstrances, silently + presenting her to the noble Venetians. + </p> + <p> + It fell out that, at this family breakfast, he referred to their having + seen in a gallery, on the previous day, the lady and gentleman whom they + had encountered on the Great Saint Bernard, ‘I forget the name,’ said he. + ‘I dare say you remember them, William? I dare say you do, Edward?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> remember ‘em well enough,’ said the latter. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should think so,’ observed Miss Fanny, with a toss of her head and a + glance at her sister. ‘But they would not have been recalled to our + remembrance, I suspect, if Uncle hadn’t tumbled over the subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear, what a curious phrase,’ said Mrs General. ‘Would not + inadvertently lighted upon, or accidentally referred to, be better?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you very much, Mrs General,’ returned the young lady, ‘no, I think + not. On the whole I prefer my own expression.’ + </p> + <p> + This was always Miss Fanny’s way of receiving a suggestion from Mrs + General. But she always stored it up in her mind, and adopted it at + another time. + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have mentioned our having met Mr and Mrs Gowan, Fanny,’ said + Little Dorrit, ‘even if Uncle had not. I have scarcely seen you since, you + know. I meant to have spoken of it at breakfast; because I should like to + pay a visit to Mrs Gowan, and to become better acquainted with her, if + Papa and Mrs General do not object.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Amy,’ said Fanny, ‘I am sure I am glad to find you at last + expressing a wish to become better acquainted with anybody in Venice. + Though whether Mr and Mrs Gowan are desirable acquaintances, remains to be + determined.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Gowan I spoke of, dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ said Fanny. ‘But you can’t separate her from her husband, I + believe, without an Act of Parliament.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think, Papa,’ inquired Little Dorrit, with diffidence and + hesitation, ‘there is any objection to my making this visit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really,’ he replied, ‘I—ha—what is Mrs General’s view?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs General’s view was, that not having the honour of any acquaintance + with the lady and gentleman referred to, she was not in a position to + varnish the present article. She could only remark, as a general principle + observed in the varnishing trade, that much depended on the quarter from + which the lady under consideration was accredited to a family so + conspicuously niched in the social temple as the family of Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + At this remark the face of Mr Dorrit gloomed considerably. He was about + (connecting the accrediting with an obtrusive person of the name of + Clennam, whom he imperfectly remembered in some former state of existence) + to black-ball the name of Gowan finally, when Edward Dorrit, Esquire, came + into the conversation, with his glass in his eye, and the preliminary + remark of ‘I say—you there! Go out, will you!’—which was + addressed to a couple of men who were handing the dishes round, as a + courteous intimation that their services could be temporarily dispensed + with. + </p> + <p> + Those menials having obeyed the mandate, Edward Dorrit, Esquire, + proceeded. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps it’s a matter of policy to let you all know that these Gowans—in + whose favour, or at least the gentleman’s, I can’t be supposed to be much + prepossessed myself—are known to people of importance, if that makes + any difference.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That, I would say,’ observed the fair varnisher, ‘Makes the greatest + difference. The connection in question, being really people of importance + and consideration—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As to that,’ said Edward Dorrit, Esquire, ‘I’ll give you the means of + judging for yourself. You are acquainted, perhaps, with the famous name of + Merdle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The great Merdle!’ exclaimed Mrs General. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>The</i> Merdle,’ said Edward Dorrit, Esquire. ‘They are known to him. + Mrs Gowan—I mean the dowager, my polite friend’s mother—is + intimate with Mrs Merdle, and I know these two to be on their visiting + list.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If so, a more undeniable guarantee could not be given,’ said Mrs General + to Mr Dorrit, raising her gloves and bowing her head, as if she were doing + homage to some visible graven image. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg to ask my son, from motives of—ah—curiosity,’ Mr Dorrit + observed, with a decided change in his manner, ‘how he becomes possessed + of this—hum—timely information?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not a long story, sir,’ returned Edward Dorrit, Esquire, ‘and you + shall have it out of hand. To begin with, Mrs Merdle is the lady you had + the parley with at what’s-his-name place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Martigny,’ interposed Miss Fanny with an air of infinite languor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Martigny,’ assented her brother, with a slight nod and a slight wink; in + acknowledgment of which, Miss Fanny looked surprised, and laughed and + reddened. + </p> + <p> + ‘How can that be, Edward?’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘You informed me that the name + of the gentleman with whom you conferred was—ha—Sparkler. + Indeed, you showed me his card. Hum. Sparkler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt of it, father; but it doesn’t follow that his mother’s name must + be the same. Mrs Merdle was married before, and he is her son. She is in + Rome now; where probably we shall know more of her, as you decide to + winter there. Sparkler is just come here. I passed last evening in company + with Sparkler. Sparkler is a very good fellow on the whole, though rather + a bore on one subject, in consequence of being tremendously smitten with a + certain young lady.’ Here Edward Dorrit, Esquire, eyed Miss Fanny through + his glass across the table. ‘We happened last night to compare notes about + our travels, and I had the information I have given you from Sparkler + himself.’ Here he ceased; continuing to eye Miss Fanny through his glass, + with a face much twisted, and not ornamentally so, in part by the action + of keeping his glass in his eye, and in part by the great subtlety of his + smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘Under these circumstances,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘I believe I express the + sentiments of—ha—Mrs General, no less than my own, when I say + that there is no objection, but—ha hum—quite the contrary—to + your gratifying your desire, Amy. I trust I may—ha—hail—this + desire,’ said Mr Dorrit, in an encouraging and forgiving manner, ‘as an + auspicious omen. It is quite right to know these people. It is a very + proper thing. Mr Merdle’s is a name of—ha—world-wide repute. + Mr Merdle’s undertakings are immense. They bring him in such vast sums of + money that they are regarded as—hum—national benefits. Mr + Merdle is the man of this time. The name of Merdle is the name of the age. + Pray do everything on my behalf that is civil to Mr and Mrs Gowan, for we + will—ha—we will certainly notice them.’ + </p> + <p> + This magnificent accordance of Mr Dorrit’s recognition settled the matter. + It was not observed that Uncle had pushed away his plate, and forgotten + his breakfast; but he was not much observed at any time, except by Little + Dorrit. The servants were recalled, and the meal proceeded to its + conclusion. Mrs General rose and left the table. Little Dorrit rose and + left the table. When Edward and Fanny remained whispering together across + it, and when Mr Dorrit remained eating figs and reading a French + newspaper, Uncle suddenly fixed the attention of all three by rising out + of his chair, striking his hand upon the table, and saying, ‘Brother! I + protest against it!’ + </p> + <p> + If he had made a proclamation in an unknown tongue, and given up the ghost + immediately afterwards, he could not have astounded his audience more. The + paper fell from Mr Dorrit’s hand, and he sat petrified, with a fig half + way to his mouth. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brother!’ said the old man, conveying a surprising energy into his + trembling voice, ‘I protest against it! I love you; you know I love you + dearly. In these many years I have never been untrue to you in a single + thought. Weak as I am, I would at any time have struck any man who spoke + ill of you. But, brother, brother, brother, I protest against it!’ + </p> + <p> + It was extraordinary to see of what a burst of earnestness such a decrepit + man was capable. His eyes became bright, his grey hair rose on his head, + markings of purpose on his brow and face which had faded from them for + five-and-twenty years, started out again, and there was an energy in his + hand that made its action nervous once more. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Frederick!’ exclaimed Mr Dorrit faintly. ‘What is wrong? What is + the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How dare you,’ said the old man, turning round on Fanny, ‘how dare you do + it? Have you no memory? Have you no heart?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Uncle?’ cried Fanny, affrighted and bursting into tears, ‘why do you + attack me in this cruel manner? What have I done?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Done?’ returned the old man, pointing to her sister’s place, ‘where’s + your affectionate invaluable friend? Where’s your devoted guardian? + Where’s your more than mother? How dare you set up superiorities against + all these characters combined in your sister? For shame, you false girl, + for shame!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I love Amy,’ cried Miss Fanny, sobbing and weeping, ‘as well as I love my + life—better than I love my life. I don’t deserve to be so treated. I + am as grateful to Amy, and as fond of Amy, as it’s possible for any human + being to be. I wish I was dead. I never was so wickedly wronged. And only + because I am anxious for the family credit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To the winds with the family credit!’ cried the old man, with great scorn + and indignation. ‘Brother, I protest against pride. I protest against + ingratitude. I protest against any one of us here who have known what we + have known, and have seen what we have seen, setting up any pretension + that puts Amy at a moment’s disadvantage, or to the cost of a moment’s + pain. We may know that it’s a base pretension by its having that effect. + It ought to bring a judgment on us. Brother, I protest against it in the + sight of God!’ + </p> + <p> + As his hand went up above his head and came down on the table, it might + have been a blacksmith’s. After a few moments’ silence, it had relaxed + into its usual weak condition. He went round to his brother with his + ordinary shuffling step, put the hand on his shoulder, and said, in a + softened voice, ‘William, my dear, I felt obliged to say it; forgive me, + for I felt obliged to say it!’ and then went, in his bowed way, out of the + palace hall, just as he might have gone out of the Marshalsea room. + </p> + <p> + All this time Fanny had been sobbing and crying, and still continued to do + so. Edward, beyond opening his mouth in amazement, had not opened his + lips, and had done nothing but stare. Mr Dorrit also had been utterly + discomfited, and quite unable to assert himself in any way. Fanny was now + the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘I never, never, never was so used!’ she sobbed. ‘There never was anything + so harsh and unjustifiable, so disgracefully violent and cruel! Dear, + kind, quiet little Amy, too, what would she feel if she could know that + she had been innocently the means of exposing me to such treatment! But + I’ll never tell her! No, good darling, I’ll never tell her!’ + </p> + <p> + This helped Mr Dorrit to break his silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said he, ‘I—ha—approve of your resolution. It will + be—ha hum—much better not to speak of this to Amy. It might—hum—it + might distress her. Ha. No doubt it would distress her greatly. It is + considerate and right to avoid doing so. We will—ha—keep this + to ourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But the cruelty of Uncle!’ cried Miss Fanny. ‘O, I never can forgive the + wanton cruelty of Uncle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mr Dorrit, recovering his tone, though he remained + unusually pale, ‘I must request you not to say so. You must remember that + your uncle is—ha—not what he formerly was. You must remember + that your uncle’s state requires—hum—great forbearance from + us, great forbearance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure,’ cried Fanny, piteously, ‘it is only charitable to suppose + that there must be something wrong in him somewhere, or he never could + have so attacked Me, of all the people in the world.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ returned Mr Dorrit in a deeply fraternal tone, ‘you know, with + his innumerable good points, what a—hum—wreck your uncle is; + and, I entreat you by the fondness that I have for him, and by the + fidelity that you know I have always shown him, to—ha—to draw + your own conclusions, and to spare my brotherly feelings.’ + </p> + <p> + This ended the scene; Edward Dorrit, Esquire, saying nothing throughout, + but looking, to the last, perplexed and doubtful. Miss Fanny awakened much + affectionate uneasiness in her sister’s mind that day by passing the + greater part of it in violent fits of embracing her, and in alternately + giving her brooches, and wishing herself dead. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0042"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 6. Something Right Somewhere + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o be in the halting state of Mr Henry Gowan; to have left one of two + powers in disgust; to want the necessary qualifications for finding + promotion with another, and to be loitering moodily about on neutral + ground, cursing both; is to be in a situation unwholesome for the mind, + which time is not likely to improve. The worst class of sum worked in the + every-day world is cyphered by the diseased arithmeticians who are always + in the rule of Subtraction as to the merits and successes of others, and + never in Addition as to their own. + </p> + <p> + The habit, too, of seeking some sort of recompense in the discontented + boast of being disappointed, is a habit fraught with degeneracy. A certain + idle carelessness and recklessness of consistency soon comes of it. To + bring deserving things down by setting undeserving things up is one of its + perverted delights; and there is no playing fast and loose with the truth, + in any game, without growing the worse for it. + </p> + <p> + In his expressed opinions of all performances in the Art of painting that + were completely destitute of merit, Gowan was the most liberal fellow on + earth. He would declare such a man to have more power in his little finger + (provided he had none), than such another had (provided he had much) in + his whole mind and body. If the objection were taken that the thing + commended was trash, he would reply, on behalf of his art, ‘My good + fellow, what do we all turn out but trash? <i>I</i> turn out nothing else, + and I make you a present of the confession.’ + </p> + <p> + To make a vaunt of being poor was another of the incidents of his + splenetic state, though this may have had the design in it of showing that + he ought to be rich; just as he would publicly laud and decry the + Barnacles, lest it should be forgotten that he belonged to the family. + Howbeit, these two subjects were very often on his lips; and he managed + them so well that he might have praised himself by the month together, and + not have made himself out half so important a man as he did by his light + disparagement of his claims on anybody’s consideration. + </p> + <p> + Out of this same airy talk of his, it always soon came to be understood, + wherever he and his wife went, that he had married against the wishes of + his exalted relations, and had had much ado to prevail on them to + countenance her. He never made the representation, on the contrary seemed + to laugh the idea to scorn; but it did happen that, with all his pains to + depreciate himself, he was always in the superior position. From the days + of their honeymoon, Minnie Gowan felt sensible of being usually regarded + as the wife of a man who had made a descent in marrying her, but whose + chivalrous love for her had cancelled that inequality. + </p> + <p> + To Venice they had been accompanied by Monsieur Blandois of Paris, and at + Venice Monsieur Blandois of Paris was very much in the society of Gowan. + When they had first met this gallant gentleman at Geneva, Gowan had been + undecided whether to kick him or encourage him; and had remained for about + four-and-twenty hours, so troubled to settle the point to his + satisfaction, that he had thought of tossing up a five-franc piece on the + terms, ‘Tails, kick; heads, encourage,’ and abiding by the voice of the + oracle. It chanced, however, that his wife expressed a dislike to the + engaging Blandois, and that the balance of feeling in the hotel was + against him. Upon it, Gowan resolved to encourage him. + </p> + <p> + Why this perversity, if it were not in a generous fit?—which it was + not. Why should Gowan, very much the superior of Blandois of Paris, and + very well able to pull that prepossessing gentleman to pieces and find out + the stuff he was made of, take up with such a man? In the first place, he + opposed the first separate wish he observed in his wife, because her + father had paid his debts and it was desirable to take an early + opportunity of asserting his independence. In the second place, he opposed + the prevalent feeling, because with many capacities of being otherwise, he + was an ill-conditioned man. He found a pleasure in declaring that a + courtier with the refined manners of Blandois ought to rise to the + greatest distinction in any polished country. He found a pleasure in + setting up Blandois as the type of elegance, and making him a satire upon + others who piqued themselves on personal graces. He seriously protested + that the bow of Blandois was perfect, that the address of Blandois was + irresistible, and that the picturesque ease of Blandois would be cheaply + purchased (if it were not a gift, and unpurchasable) for a hundred + thousand francs. That exaggeration in the manner of the man which has been + noticed as appertaining to him and to every such man, whatever his + original breeding, as certainly as the sun belongs to this system, was + acceptable to Gowan as a caricature, which he found it a humorous resource + to have at hand for the ridiculing of numbers of people who necessarily + did more or less of what Blandois overdid. Thus he had taken up with him; + and thus, negligently strengthening these inclinations with habit, and + idly deriving some amusement from his talk, he had glided into a way of + having him for a companion. This, though he supposed him to live by his + wits at play-tables and the like; though he suspected him to be a coward, + while he himself was daring and courageous; though he thoroughly knew him + to be disliked by Minnie; and though he cared so little for him, after + all, that if he had given her any tangible personal cause to regard him + with aversion, he would have had no compunction whatever in flinging him + out of the highest window in Venice into the deepest water of the city. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit would have been glad to make her visit to Mrs Gowan, alone; + but as Fanny, who had not yet recovered from her Uncle’s protest, though + it was four-and-twenty hours of age, pressingly offered her company, the + two sisters stepped together into one of the gondolas under Mr Dorrit’s + window, and, with the courier in attendance, were taken in high state to + Mrs Gowan’s lodging. In truth, their state was rather too high for the + lodging, which was, as Fanny complained, ‘fearfully out of the way,’ and + which took them through a complexity of narrow streets of water, which the + same lady disparaged as ‘mere ditches.’ + </p> + <p> + The house, on a little desert island, looked as if it had broken away from + somewhere else, and had floated by chance into its present anchorage in + company with a vine almost as much in want of training as the poor + wretches who were lying under its leaves. The features of the surrounding + picture were, a church with hoarding and scaffolding about it, which had + been under suppositious repair so long that the means of repair looked a + hundred years old, and had themselves fallen into decay; a quantity of + washed linen, spread to dry in the sun; a number of houses at odds with + one another and grotesquely out of the perpendicular, like rotten + pre-Adamite cheeses cut into fantastic shapes and full of mites; and a + feverish bewilderment of windows, with their lattice-blinds all hanging + askew, and something draggled and dirty dangling out of most of them. + </p> + <p> + On the first-floor of the house was a Bank—a surprising experience + for any gentleman of commercial pursuits bringing laws for all mankind + from a British city—where two spare clerks, like dried dragoons, in + green velvet caps adorned with golden tassels, stood, bearded, behind a + small counter in a small room, containing no other visible objects than an + empty iron-safe with the door open, a jug of water, and a papering of + garland of roses; but who, on lawful requisition, by merely dipping their + hands out of sight, could produce exhaustless mounds of five-franc pieces. + Below the Bank was a suite of three or four rooms with barred windows, + which had the appearance of a jail for criminal rats. Above the Bank was + Mrs Gowan’s residence. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding that its walls were blotched, as if missionary maps were + bursting out of them to impart geographical knowledge; notwithstanding + that its weird furniture was forlornly faded and musty, and that the + prevailing Venetian odour of bilge water and an ebb tide on a weedy shore + was very strong; the place was better within, than it promised. The door + was opened by a smiling man like a reformed assassin—a temporary + servant—who ushered them into the room where Mrs Gowan sat, with the + announcement that two beautiful English ladies were come to see the + mistress. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan, who was engaged in needlework, put her work aside in a covered + basket, and rose, a little hurriedly. Miss Fanny was excessively courteous + to her, and said the usual nothings with the skill of a veteran. + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa was extremely sorry,’ proceeded Fanny, ‘to be engaged to-day (he is + so much engaged here, our acquaintance being so wretchedly large!); and + particularly requested me to bring his card for Mr Gowan. That I may be + sure to acquit myself of a commission which he impressed upon me at least + a dozen times, allow me to relieve my conscience by placing it on the + table at once.’ + </p> + <p> + Which she did with veteran ease. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have been,’ said Fanny, ‘charmed to understand that you know the + Merdles. We hope it may be another means of bringing us together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They are friends,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘of Mr Gowan’s family. I have not yet + had the pleasure of a personal introduction to Mrs Merdle, but I suppose I + shall be presented to her at Rome.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ returned Fanny, with an appearance of amiably quenching her own + superiority. ‘I think you’ll like her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know her very well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you see,’ said Fanny, with a frank action of her pretty shoulders, + ‘in London one knows every one. We met her on our way here, and, to say + the truth, papa was at first rather cross with her for taking one of the + rooms that our people had ordered for us. However, of course, that soon + blew over, and we were all good friends again.’ + </p> + <p> + Although the visit had as yet given Little Dorrit no opportunity of + conversing with Mrs Gowan, there was a silent understanding between them, + which did as well. She looked at Mrs Gowan with keen and unabated + interest; the sound of her voice was thrilling to her; nothing that was + near her, or about her, or at all concerned her, escaped Little Dorrit. + She was quicker to perceive the slightest matter here, than in any other + case—but one. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been quite well,’ she now said, ‘since that night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite, my dear. And you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I am always well,’ said Little Dorrit, timidly. ‘I—yes, thank + you.’ + </p> + <p> + There was no reason for her faltering and breaking off, other than that + Mrs Gowan had touched her hand in speaking to her, and their looks had + met. Something thoughtfully apprehensive in the large, soft eyes, had + checked Little Dorrit in an instant. + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t know that you are a favourite of my husband’s, and that I am + almost bound to be jealous of you?’ said Mrs Gowan. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, blushing, shook her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘He will tell you, if he tells you what he tells me, that you are quieter + and quicker of resource than any one he ever saw.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He speaks far too well of me,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘I doubt that; but I don’t at all doubt that I must tell him you are here. + I should never be forgiven, if I were to let you—and Miss Dorrit—go, + without doing so. May I? You can excuse the disorder and discomfort of a + painter’s studio?’ + </p> + <p> + The inquiries were addressed to Miss Fanny, who graciously replied that + she would be beyond anything interested and enchanted. Mrs Gowan went to a + door, looked in beyond it, and came back. ‘Do Henry the favour to come + in,’ said she, ‘I knew he would be pleased!’ + </p> + <p> + The first object that confronted Little Dorrit, entering first, was + Blandois of Paris in a great cloak and a furtive slouched hat, standing on + a throne platform in a corner, as he had stood on the Great Saint Bernard, + when the warning arms seemed to be all pointing up at him. She recoiled + from this figure, as it smiled at her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ said Gowan, coming from his easel behind the door. + ‘It’s only Blandois. He is doing duty as a model to-day. I am making a + study of him. It saves me money to turn him to some use. We poor painters + have none to spare.’ + </p> + <p> + Blandois of Paris pulled off his slouched hat, and saluted the ladies + without coming out of his corner. + </p> + <p> + ‘A thousand pardons!’ said he. ‘But the Professore here is so inexorable + with me, that I am afraid to stir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t stir, then,’ said Gowan coolly, as the sisters approached the + easel. ‘Let the ladies at least see the original of the daub, that they + may know what it’s meant for. There he stands, you see. A bravo waiting + for his prey, a distinguished noble waiting to save his country, the + common enemy waiting to do somebody a bad turn, an angelic messenger + waiting to do somebody a good turn—whatever you think he looks most + like!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say, Professore Mio, a poor gentleman waiting to do homage to elegance + and beauty,’ remarked Blandois. + </p> + <p> + ‘Or say, Cattivo Soggetto Mio,’ returned Gowan, touching the painted face + with his brush in the part where the real face had moved, ‘a murderer + after the fact. Show that white hand of yours, Blandois. Put it outside + the cloak. Keep it still.’ + </p> + <p> + Blandois’ hand was unsteady; but he laughed, and that would naturally + shake it. + </p> + <p> + ‘He was formerly in some scuffle with another murderer, or with a victim, + you observe,’ said Gowan, putting in the markings of the hand with a + quick, impatient, unskilful touch, ‘and these are the tokens of it. + Outside the cloak, man!—Corpo di San Marco, what are you thinking + of?’ + </p> + <p> + Blandois of Paris shook with a laugh again, so that his hand shook more; + now he raised it to twist his moustache, which had a damp appearance; and + now he stood in the required position, with a little new swagger. + </p> + <p> + His face was so directed in reference to the spot where Little Dorrit + stood by the easel, that throughout he looked at her. Once attracted by + his peculiar eyes, she could not remove her own, and they had looked at + each other all the time. She trembled now; Gowan, feeling it, and + supposing her to be alarmed by the large dog beside him, whose head she + caressed in her hand, and who had just uttered a low growl, glanced at her + to say, ‘He won’t hurt you, Miss Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not afraid of him,’ she returned in the same breath; ‘but will you + look at him?’ + </p> + <p> + In a moment Gowan had thrown down his brush, and seized the dog with both + hands by the collar. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0439m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0439m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0439.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Blandois! How can you be such a fool as to provoke him! By Heaven, and + the other place too, he’ll tear you to bits! Lie down! Lion! Do you hear + my voice, you rebel!’ + </p> + <p> + The great dog, regardless of being half-choked by his collar, was + obdurately pulling with his dead weight against his master, resolved to + get across the room. He had been crouching for a spring at the moment when + his master caught him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lion! Lion!’ He was up on his hind legs, and it was a wrestle between + master and dog. ‘Get back! Down, Lion! Get out of his sight, Blandois! + What devil have you conjured into the dog?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have done nothing to him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Get out of his sight or I can’t hold the wild beast! Get out of the room! + By my soul, he’ll kill you!’ + </p> + <p> + The dog, with a ferocious bark, made one other struggle as Blandois + vanished; then, in the moment of the dog’s submission, the master, little + less angry than the dog, felled him with a blow on the head, and standing + over him, struck him many times severely with the heel of his boot, so + that his mouth was presently bloody. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now get you into that corner and lie down,’ said Gowan, ‘or I’ll take you + out and shoot you.’ + </p> + <p> + Lion did as he was ordered, and lay down licking his mouth and chest. + Lion’s master stopped for a moment to take breath, and then, recovering + his usual coolness of manner, turned to speak to his frightened wife and + her visitors. Probably the whole occurrence had not occupied two minutes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, come, Minnie! You know he is always good-humoured and tractable. + Blandois must have irritated him,—made faces at him. The dog has his + likings and dislikings, and Blandois is no great favourite of his; but I + am sure you will give him a character, Minnie, for never having been like + this before.’ + </p> + <p> + Minnie was too much disturbed to say anything connected in reply; Little + Dorrit was already occupied in soothing her; Fanny, who had cried out + twice or thrice, held Gowan’s arm for protection; Lion, deeply ashamed of + having caused them this alarm, came trailing himself along the ground to + the feet of his mistress. + </p> + <p> + ‘You furious brute,’ said Gowan, striking him with his foot again. ‘You + shall do penance for this.’ And he struck him again, and yet again. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, pray don’t punish him any more,’ cried Little Dorrit. ‘Don’t hurt him. + See how gentle he is!’ At her entreaty, Gowan spared him; and he deserved + her intercession, for truly he was as submissive, and as sorry, and as + wretched as a dog could be. + </p> + <p> + It was not easy to recover this shock and make the visit unrestrained, + even though Fanny had not been, under the best of circumstances, the least + trifle in the way. In such further communication as passed among them + before the sisters took their departure, Little Dorrit fancied it was + revealed to her that Mr Gowan treated his wife, even in his very fondness, + too much like a beautiful child. He seemed so unsuspicious of the depths + of feeling which she knew must lie below that surface, that she doubted if + there could be any such depths in himself. She wondered whether his want + of earnestness might be the natural result of his want of such qualities, + and whether it was with people as with ships, that, in too shallow and + rocky waters, their anchors had no hold, and they drifted anywhere. + </p> + <p> + He attended them down the staircase, jocosely apologising for the poor + quarters to which such poor fellows as himself were limited, and remarking + that when the high and mighty Barnacles, his relatives, who would be + dreadfully ashamed of them, presented him with better, he would live in + better to oblige them. At the water’s edge they were saluted by Blandois, + who looked white enough after his late adventure, but who made very light + of it notwithstanding,—laughing at the mention of Lion. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the two together under the scrap of vine upon the causeway, Gowan + idly scattering the leaves from it into the water, and Blandois lighting a + cigarette, the sisters were paddled away in state as they had come. They + had not glided on for many minutes, when Little Dorrit became aware that + Fanny was more showy in manner than the occasion appeared to require, and, + looking about for the cause through the window and through the open door, + saw another gondola evidently in waiting on them. + </p> + <p> + As this gondola attended their progress in various artful ways; sometimes + shooting on a-head, and stopping to let them pass; sometimes, when the way + was broad enough, skimming along side by side with them; and sometimes + following close astern; and as Fanny gradually made no disguise that she + was playing off graces upon somebody within it, of whom she at the same + time feigned to be unconscious; Little Dorrit at length asked who it was? + </p> + <p> + To which Fanny made the short answer, ‘That gaby.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who?’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear child,’ returned Fanny (in a tone suggesting that before her + Uncle’s protest she might have said, You little fool, instead), ‘how slow + you are! Young Sparkler.’ + </p> + <p> + She lowered the window on her side, and, leaning back and resting her + elbow on it negligently, fanned herself with a rich Spanish fan of black + and gold. The attendant gondola, having skimmed forward again, with some + swift trace of an eye in the window, Fanny laughed coquettishly and said, + ‘Did you ever see such a fool, my love?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think he means to follow you all the way?’ asked Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘My precious child,’ returned Fanny, ‘I can’t possibly answer for what an + idiot in a state of desperation may do, but I should think it highly + probable. It’s not such an enormous distance. All Venice would scarcely be + that, I imagine, if he’s dying for a glimpse of me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And is he?’ asked Little Dorrit in perfect simplicity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, my love, that really is an awkward question for me to answer,’ said + her sister. ‘I believe he is. You had better ask Edward. He tells Edward + he is, I believe. I understand he makes a perfect spectacle of himself at + the Casino, and that sort of places, by going on about me. But you had + better ask Edward if you want to know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder he doesn’t call,’ said Little Dorrit after thinking a moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Amy, your wonder will soon cease, if I am rightly informed. I + should not be at all surprised if he called to-day. The creature has only + been waiting to get his courage up, I suspect.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you see him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, my darling,’ said Fanny, ‘that’s just as it may happen. Here he + is again. Look at him. O, you simpleton!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler had, undeniably, a weak appearance; with his eye in the window + like a knot in the glass, and no reason on earth for stopping his bark + suddenly, except the real reason. + </p> + <p> + ‘When you asked me if I will see him, my dear,’ said Fanny, almost as well + composed in the graceful indifference of her attitude as Mrs Merdle + herself, ‘what do you mean?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean,’ said Little Dorrit—‘I think I rather mean what do you + mean, dear Fanny?’ + </p> + <p> + Fanny laughed again, in a manner at once condescending, arch, and affable; + and said, putting her arm round her sister in a playfully affectionate + way: + </p> + <p> + ‘Now tell me, my little pet. When we saw that woman at Martigny, how did + you think she carried it off? Did you see what she decided on in a + moment?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Fanny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then I’ll tell you, Amy. She settled with herself, now I’ll never refer + to that meeting under such different circumstances, and I’ll never pretend + to have any idea that these are the same girls. That’s <i>her</i> way out + of a difficulty. What did I tell you when we came away from Harley Street + that time? She is as insolent and false as any woman in the world. But in + the first capacity, my love, she may find people who can match her.’ + </p> + <p> + A significant turn of the Spanish fan towards Fanny’s bosom, indicated + with great expression where one of these people was to be found. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not only that,’ pursued Fanny, ‘but she gives the same charge to Young + Sparkler; and doesn’t let him come after me until she has got it + thoroughly into his most ridiculous of all ridiculous noddles (for one + really can’t call it a head), that he is to pretend to have been first + struck with me in that Inn Yard.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why?’ asked Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why? Good gracious, my love!’ (again very much in the tone of You stupid + little creature) ‘how can you ask? Don’t you see that I may have become a + rather desirable match for a noddle? And don’t you see that she puts the + deception upon us, and makes a pretence, while she shifts it from her own + shoulders (very good shoulders they are too, I must say),’ observed Miss + Fanny, glancing complacently at herself, ‘of considering our feelings?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But we can always go back to the plain truth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but if you please we won’t,’ retorted Fanny. ‘No; I am not going to + have that done, Amy. The pretext is none of mine; it’s hers, and she shall + have enough of it.’ + </p> + <p> + In the triumphant exaltation of her feelings, Miss Fanny, using her + Spanish fan with one hand, squeezed her sister’s waist with the other, as + if she were crushing Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ repeated Fanny. ‘She shall find me go her way. She took it, and I’ll + follow it. And, with the blessing of fate and fortune, I’ll go on + improving that woman’s acquaintance until I have given her maid, before + her eyes, things from my dressmaker’s ten times as handsome and expensive + as she once gave me from hers!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was silent; sensible that she was not to be heard on any + question affecting the family dignity, and unwilling to lose to no purpose + her sister’s newly and unexpectedly restored favour. She could not concur, + but she was silent. Fanny well knew what she was thinking of; so well, + that she soon asked her. + </p> + <p> + Her reply was, ‘Do you mean to encourage Mr Sparkler, Fanny?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Encourage him, my dear?’ said her sister, smiling contemptuously, ‘that + depends upon what you call encourage. No, I don’t mean to encourage him. + But I’ll make a slave of him.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit glanced seriously and doubtfully in her face, but Fanny was + not to be so brought to a check. She furled her fan of black and gold, and + used it to tap her sister’s nose; with the air of a proud beauty and a + great spirit, who toyed with and playfully instructed a homely companion. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall make him fetch and carry, my dear, and I shall make him subject + to me. And if I don’t make his mother subject to me, too, it shall not be + my fault.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think—dear Fanny, don’t be offended, we are so comfortable + together now—that you can quite see the end of that course?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t say I have so much as looked for it yet, my dear,’ answered + Fanny, with supreme indifference; ‘all in good time. Such are my + intentions. And really they have taken me so long to develop, that here we + are at home. And Young Sparkler at the door, inquiring who is within. By + the merest accident, of course!’ + </p> + <p> + In effect, the swain was standing up in his gondola, card-case in hand, + affecting to put the question to a servant. This conjunction of + circumstances led to his immediately afterwards presenting himself before + the young ladies in a posture, which in ancient times would not have been + considered one of favourable augury for his suit; since the gondoliers of + the young ladies, having been put to some inconvenience by the chase, so + neatly brought their own boat in the gentlest collision with the bark of + Mr Sparkler, as to tip that gentleman over like a larger species of + ninepin, and cause him to exhibit the soles of his shoes to the object of + his dearest wishes: while the nobler portions of his anatomy struggled at + the bottom of his boat in the arms of one of his men. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0445m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0445m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0445.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + However, as Miss Fanny called out with much concern, Was the gentleman + hurt, Mr Sparkler rose more restored than might have been expected, and + stammered for himself with blushes, ‘Not at all so.’ Miss Fanny had no + recollection of having ever seen him before, and was passing on, with a + distant inclination of her head, when he announced himself by name. Even + then she was in a difficulty from being unable to call it to mind, until + he explained that he had had the honour of seeing her at Martigny. Then + she remembered him, and hoped his lady-mother was well. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ stammered Mr Sparkler, ‘she’s uncommonly well—at least, + poorly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In Venice?’ said Miss Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘In Rome,’ Mr Sparkler answered. ‘I am here by myself, myself. I came to + call upon Mr Edward Dorrit myself. Indeed, upon Mr Dorrit likewise. In + fact, upon the family.’ + </p> + <p> + Turning graciously to the attendants, Miss Fanny inquired whether her papa + or brother was within? The reply being that they were both within, Mr + Sparkler humbly offered his arm. Miss Fanny accepting it, was squired up + the great staircase by Mr Sparkler, who, if he still believed (which there + is not any reason to doubt) that she had no nonsense about her, rather + deceived himself. + </p> + <p> + Arrived in a mouldering reception-room, where the faded hangings, of a sad + sea-green, had worn and withered until they looked as if they might have + claimed kindred with the waifs of seaweed drifting under the windows, or + clinging to the walls and weeping for their imprisoned relations, Miss + Fanny despatched emissaries for her father and brother. Pending whose + appearance, she showed to great advantage on a sofa, completing Mr + Sparkler’s conquest with some remarks upon Dante—known to that + gentleman as an eccentric man in the nature of an Old File, who used to + put leaves round his head, and sit upon a stool for some unaccountable + purpose, outside the cathedral at Florence. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit welcomed the visitor with the highest urbanity, and most courtly + manners. He inquired particularly after Mrs Merdle. He inquired + particularly after Mr Merdle. Mr Sparkler said, or rather twitched out of + himself in small pieces by the shirt-collar, that Mrs Merdle having + completely used up her place in the country, and also her house at + Brighton, and being, of course, unable, don’t you see, to remain in London + when there wasn’t a soul there, and not feeling herself this year quite up + to visiting about at people’s places, had resolved to have a touch at + Rome, where a woman like herself, with a proverbially fine appearance, and + with no nonsense about her, couldn’t fail to be a great acquisition. As to + Mr Merdle, he was so much wanted by the men in the City and the rest of + those places, and was such a doosed extraordinary phenomenon in Buying and + Banking and that, that Mr Sparkler doubted if the monetary system of the + country would be able to spare him; though that his work was occasionally + one too many for him, and that he would be all the better for a temporary + shy at an entirely new scene and climate, Mr Sparkler did not conceal. As + to himself, Mr Sparkler conveyed to the Dorrit family that he was going, + on rather particular business, wherever they were going. + </p> + <p> + This immense conversational achievement required time, but was effected. + Being effected, Mr Dorrit expressed his hope that Mr Sparkler would + shortly dine with them. Mr Sparkler received the idea so kindly that Mr + Dorrit asked what he was going to do that day, for instance? As he was + going to do nothing that day (his usual occupation, and one for which he + was particularly qualified), he was secured without postponement; being + further bound over to accompany the ladies to the Opera in the evening. + </p> + <p> + At dinner-time Mr Sparkler rose out of the sea, like Venus’s son taking + after his mother, and made a splendid appearance ascending the great + staircase. If Fanny had been charming in the morning, she was now thrice + charming, very becomingly dressed in her most suitable colours, and with + an air of negligence upon her that doubled Mr Sparkler’s fetters, and + riveted them. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hear you are acquainted, Mr Sparkler,’ said his host at dinner, ‘with—ha—Mr + Gowan. Mr Henry Gowan?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perfectly, sir,’ returned Mr Sparkler. ‘His mother and my mother are + cronies in fact.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I had thought of it, Amy,’ said Mr Dorrit, with a patronage as + magnificent as that of Lord Decimus himself, ‘you should have despatched a + note to them, asking them to dine to-day. Some of our people could have—ha—fetched + them, and taken them home. We could have spared a—hum—gondola + for that purpose. I am sorry to have forgotten this. Pray remind me of + them to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was not without doubts how Mr Henry Gowan might take their + patronage; but she promised not to fail in the reminder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, does Mr Henry Gowan paint—ha—Portraits?’ inquired Mr + Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler opined that he painted anything, if he could get the job. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has no particular walk?’ said Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler, stimulated by Love to brilliancy, replied that for a + particular walk a man ought to have a particular pair of shoes; as, for + example, shooting, shooting-shoes; cricket, cricket-shoes. Whereas, he + believed that Henry Gowan had no particular pair of shoes. + </p> + <p> + ‘No speciality?’ said Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + This being a very long word for Mr Sparkler, and his mind being exhausted + by his late effort, he replied, ‘No, thank you. I seldom take it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘It would be very agreeable to me to present a + gentleman so connected, with some—ha—Testimonial of my desire + to further his interests, and develop the—hum—germs of his + genius. I think I must engage Mr Gowan to paint my picture. If the result + should be—ha—mutually satisfactory, I might afterwards engage + him to try his hand upon my family.’ + </p> + <p> + The exquisitely bold and original thought presented itself to Mr Sparkler, + that there was an opening here for saying there were some of the family + (emphasising ‘some’ in a marked manner) to whom no painter could render + justice. But, for want of a form of words in which to express the idea, it + returned to the skies. + </p> + <p> + This was the more to be regretted as Miss Fanny greatly applauded the + notion of the portrait, and urged her papa to act upon it. She surmised, + she said, that Mr Gowan had lost better and higher opportunities by + marrying his pretty wife; and Love in a cottage, painting pictures for + dinner, was so delightfully interesting, that she begged her papa to give + him the commission whether he could paint a likeness or not: though indeed + both she and Amy knew he could, from having seen a speaking likeness on + his easel that day, and having had the opportunity of comparing it with + the original. These remarks made Mr Sparkler (as perhaps they were + intended to do) nearly distracted; for while on the one hand they + expressed Miss Fanny’s susceptibility of the tender passion, she herself + showed such an innocent unconsciousness of his admiration that his eyes + goggled in his head with jealousy of an unknown rival. + </p> + <p> + Descending into the sea again after dinner, and ascending out of it at the + Opera staircase, preceded by one of their gondoliers, like an attendant + Merman, with a great linen lantern, they entered their box, and Mr + Sparkler entered on an evening of agony. The theatre being dark, and the + box light, several visitors lounged in during the representation; in whom + Fanny was so interested, and in conversation with whom she fell into such + charming attitudes, as she had little confidences with them, and little + disputes concerning the identity of people in distant boxes, that the + wretched Sparkler hated all mankind. But he had two consolations at the + close of the performance. She gave him her fan to hold while she adjusted + her cloak, and it was his blessed privilege to give her his arm + down-stairs again. These crumbs of encouragement, Mr Sparkler thought, + would just keep him going; and it is not impossible that Miss Dorrit + thought so too. + </p> + <p> + The Merman with his light was ready at the box-door, and other Mermen with + other lights were ready at many of the doors. The Dorrit Merman held his + lantern low, to show the steps, and Mr Sparkler put on another heavy set + of fetters over his former set, as he watched her radiant feet twinkling + down the stairs beside him. Among the loiterers here, was Blandois of + Paris. He spoke, and moved forward beside Fanny. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was in front with her brother and Mrs General (Mr Dorrit had + remained at home), but on the brink of the quay they all came together. + She started again to find Blandois close to her, handing Fanny into the + boat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Gowan has had a loss,’ he said, ‘since he was made happy to-day by a + visit from fair ladies.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A loss?’ repeated Fanny, relinquished by the bereaved Sparkler, and + taking her seat. + </p> + <p> + ‘A loss,’ said Blandois. ‘His dog Lion.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s hand was in his, as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is dead,’ said Blandois. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dead?’ echoed Little Dorrit. ‘That noble dog?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Faith, dear ladies!’ said Blandois, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, + ‘somebody has poisoned that noble dog. He is as dead as the Doges!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0043"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 7. Mostly, Prunes and Prism + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>rs General, always on her coach-box keeping the proprieties well + together, took pains to form a surface on her very dear young friend, and + Mrs General’s very dear young friend tried hard to receive it. Hard as she + had tried in her laborious life to attain many ends, she had never tried + harder than she did now, to be varnished by Mrs General. It made her + anxious and ill at ease to be operated upon by that smoothing hand, it is + true; but she submitted herself to the family want in its greatness as she + had submitted herself to the family want in its littleness, and yielded to + her own inclinations in this thing no more than she had yielded to her + hunger itself, in the days when she had saved her dinner that her father + might have his supper. + </p> + <p> + One comfort that she had under the Ordeal by General was more sustaining + to her, and made her more grateful than to a less devoted and affectionate + spirit, not habituated to her struggles and sacrifices, might appear quite + reasonable; and, indeed, it may often be observed in life, that spirits + like Little Dorrit do not appear to reason half as carefully as the folks + who get the better of them. The continued kindness of her sister was this + comfort to Little Dorrit. It was nothing to her that the kindness took the + form of tolerant patronage; she was used to that. It was nothing to her + that it kept her in a tributary position, and showed her in attendance on + the flaming car in which Miss Fanny sat on an elevated seat, exacting + homage; she sought no better place. Always admiring Fanny’s beauty, and + grace, and readiness, and not now asking herself how much of her + disposition to be strongly attached to Fanny was due to her own heart, and + how much to Fanny’s, she gave her all the sisterly fondness her great + heart contained. + </p> + <p> + The wholesale amount of Prunes and Prism which Mrs General infused into + the family life, combined with the perpetual plunges made by Fanny into + society, left but a very small residue of any natural deposit at the + bottom of the mixture. This rendered confidences with Fanny doubly + precious to Little Dorrit, and heightened the relief they afforded her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy,’ said Fanny to her one night when they were alone, after a day so + tiring that Little Dorrit was quite worn out, though Fanny would have + taken another dip into society with the greatest pleasure in life, ‘I am + going to put something into your little head. You won’t guess what it is, + I suspect.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think that’s likely, dear,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, I’ll give you a clue, child,’ said Fanny. ‘Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + Prunes and Prism, in a thousand combinations, having been wearily in the + ascendant all day—everything having been surface and varnish and + show without substance—Little Dorrit looked as if she had hoped that + Mrs General was safely tucked up in bed for some hours. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Now</i>, can you guess, Amy?’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, dear. Unless I have done anything,’ said Little Dorrit, rather + alarmed, and meaning anything calculated to crack varnish and ruffle + surface. + </p> + <p> + Fanny was so very much amused by the misgiving, that she took up her + favourite fan (being then seated at her dressing-table with her armoury of + cruel instruments about her, most of them reeking from the heart of + Sparkler), and tapped her sister frequently on the nose with it, laughing + all the time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, our Amy, our Amy!’ said Fanny. ‘What a timid little goose our Amy is! + But this is nothing to laugh at. On the contrary, I am very cross, my + dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As it is not with me, Fanny, I don’t mind,’ returned her sister, smiling. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! But I do mind,’ said Fanny, ‘and so will you, Pet, when I enlighten + you. Amy, has it never struck you that somebody is monstrously polite to + Mrs General?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Everybody is polite to Mrs General,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘Because—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because she freezes them into it?’ interrupted Fanny. ‘I don’t mean that; + quite different from that. Come! Has it never struck you, Amy, that Pa is + monstrously polite to Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + Amy, murmuring ‘No,’ looked quite confounded. + </p> + <p> + ‘No; I dare say not. But he is,’ said Fanny. ‘He is, Amy. And remember my + words. Mrs General has designs on Pa!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Fanny, do you think it possible that Mrs General has designs on any + one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do I think it possible?’ retorted Fanny. ‘My love, I know it. I tell you + she has designs on Pa. And more than that, I tell you Pa considers her + such a wonder, such a paragon of accomplishment, and such an acquisition + to our family, that he is ready to get himself into a state of perfect + infatuation with her at any moment. And that opens a pretty picture of + things, I hope? Think of me with Mrs General for a Mama!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit did not reply, ‘Think of me with Mrs General for a Mama;’ + but she looked anxious, and seriously inquired what had led Fanny to these + conclusions. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord, my darling,’ said Fanny, tartly. ‘You might as well ask me how I + know when a man is struck with myself! But, of course I do know. It + happens pretty often: but I always know it. I know this in much the same + way, I suppose. At all events, I know it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never heard Papa say anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say anything?’ repeated Fanny. ‘My dearest, darling child, what necessity + has he had, yet awhile, to say anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you have never heard Mrs General say anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My goodness me, Amy,’ returned Fanny, ‘is she the sort of woman to say + anything? Isn’t it perfectly plain and clear that she has nothing to do at + present but to hold herself upright, keep her aggravating gloves on, and + go sweeping about? Say anything! If she had the ace of trumps in her hand + at whist, she wouldn’t say anything, child. It would come out when she + played it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At least, you may be mistaken, Fanny. Now, may you not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O yes, I <i>may</i> be,’ said Fanny, ‘but I am not. However, I am glad + you can contemplate such an escape, my dear, and I am glad that you can + take this for the present with sufficient coolness to think of such a + chance. It makes me hope that you may be able to bear the connection. I + should not be able to bear it, and I should not try. I’d marry young + Sparkler first.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, you would never marry him, Fanny, under any circumstances.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word, my dear,’ rejoined that young lady with exceeding + indifference, ‘I wouldn’t positively answer even for that. There’s no + knowing what might happen. Especially as I should have many opportunities, + afterwards, of treating that woman, his mother, in her own style. Which I + most decidedly should not be slow to avail myself of, Amy.’ + </p> + <p> + No more passed between the sisters then; but what had passed gave the two + subjects of Mrs General and Mr Sparkler great prominence in Little + Dorrit’s mind, and thenceforth she thought very much of both. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General, having long ago formed her own surface to such perfection + that it hid whatever was below it (if anything), no observation was to be + made in that quarter. Mr Dorrit was undeniably very polite to her and had + a high opinion of her; but Fanny, impetuous at most times, might easily be + wrong for all that. Whereas, the Sparkler question was on the different + footing that any one could see what was going on there, and Little Dorrit + saw it and pondered on it with many doubts and wonderings. + </p> + <p> + The devotion of Mr Sparkler was only to be equalled by the caprice and + cruelty of his enslaver. Sometimes she would prefer him to such + distinction of notice, that he would chuckle aloud with joy; next day, or + next hour, she would overlook him so completely, and drop him into such an + abyss of obscurity, that he would groan under a weak pretence of coughing. + The constancy of his attendance never touched Fanny: though he was so + inseparable from Edward, that, when that gentleman wished for a change of + society, he was under the irksome necessity of gliding out like a + conspirator in disguised boats and by secret doors and back ways; though + he was so solicitous to know how Mr Dorrit was, that he called every other + day to inquire, as if Mr Dorrit were the prey of an intermittent fever; + though he was so constantly being paddled up and down before the principal + windows, that he might have been supposed to have made a wager for a large + stake to be paddled a thousand miles in a thousand hours; though whenever + the gondola of his mistress left the gate, the gondola of Mr Sparkler shot + out from some watery ambush and gave chase, as if she were a fair smuggler + and he a custom-house officer. It was probably owing to this fortification + of the natural strength of his constitution with so much exposure to the + air, and the salt sea, that Mr Sparkler did not pine outwardly; but, + whatever the cause, he was so far from having any prospect of moving his + mistress by a languishing state of health, that he grew bluffer every day, + and that peculiarity in his appearance of seeming rather a swelled boy + than a young man, became developed to an extraordinary degree of ruddy + puffiness. + </p> + <p> + Blandois calling to pay his respects, Mr Dorrit received him with + affability as the friend of Mr Gowan, and mentioned to him his idea of + commissioning Mr Gowan to transmit him to posterity. Blandois highly + extolling it, it occurred to Mr Dorrit that it might be agreeable to + Blandois to communicate to his friend the great opportunity reserved for + him. Blandois accepted the commission with his own free elegance of + manner, and swore he would discharge it before he was an hour older. On + his imparting the news to Gowan, that Master gave Mr Dorrit to the Devil + with great liberality some round dozen of times (for he resented patronage + almost as much as he resented the want of it), and was inclined to quarrel + with his friend for bringing him the message. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be a defect in my mental vision, Blandois,’ said he, ‘but may I + die if I see what you have to do with this.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Death of my life,’ replied Blandois, ‘nor I neither, except that I + thought I was serving my friend.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By putting an upstart’s hire in his pocket?’ said Gowan, frowning. ‘Do + you mean that? Tell your other friend to get his head painted for the sign + of some public-house, and to get it done by a sign-painter. Who am I, and + who is he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Professore,’ returned the ambassador, ‘and who is Blandois?’ + </p> + <p> + Without appearing at all interested in the latter question, Gowan angrily + whistled Mr Dorrit away. But, next day, he resumed the subject by saying + in his off-hand manner and with a slighting laugh, ‘Well, Blandois, when + shall we go to this Maecenas of yours? We journeymen must take jobs when + we can get them. When shall we go and look after this job?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘When you will,’ said the injured Blandois, ‘as you please. What have I to + do with it? What is it to me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can tell you what it is to me,’ said Gowan. ‘Bread and cheese. One must + eat! So come along, my Blandois.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit received them in the presence of his daughters and of Mr + Sparkler, who happened, by some surprising accident, to be calling there. + ‘How are you, Sparkler?’ said Gowan carelessly. ‘When you have to live by + your mother wit, old boy, I hope you may get on better than I do.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit then mentioned his proposal. ‘Sir,’ said Gowan, laughing, after + receiving it gracefully enough, ‘I am new to the trade, and not expert at + its mysteries. I believe I ought to look at you in various lights, tell + you you are a capital subject, and consider when I shall be sufficiently + disengaged to devote myself with the necessary enthusiasm to the fine + picture I mean to make of you. I assure you,’ and he laughed again, ‘I + feel quite a traitor in the camp of those dear, gifted, good, noble + fellows, my brother artists, by not doing the hocus-pocus better. But I + have not been brought up to it, and it’s too late to learn it. Now, the + fact is, I am a very bad painter, but not much worse than the generality. + If you are going to throw away a hundred guineas or so, I am as poor as a + poor relation of great people usually is, and I shall be very much obliged + to you, if you’ll throw them away upon me. I’ll do the best I can for the + money; and if the best should be bad, why even then, you may probably have + a bad picture with a small name to it, instead of a bad picture with a + large name to it.’ + </p> + <p> + This tone, though not what he had expected, on the whole suited Mr Dorrit + remarkably well. It showed that the gentleman, highly connected, and not a + mere workman, would be under an obligation to him. He expressed his + satisfaction in placing himself in Mr Gowan’s hands, and trusted that he + would have the pleasure, in their characters of private gentlemen, of + improving his acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very good,’ said Gowan. ‘I have not forsworn society since I + joined the brotherhood of the brush (the most delightful fellows on the + face of the earth), and am glad enough to smell the old fine gunpowder now + and then, though it did blow me into mid-air and my present calling. + You’ll not think, Mr Dorrit,’ and here he laughed again in the easiest + way, ‘that I am lapsing into the freemasonry of the craft—for it’s + not so; upon my life I can’t help betraying it wherever I go, though, by + Jupiter, I love and honour the craft with all my might—if I propose + a stipulation as to time and place?’ + </p> + <p> + Ha! Mr Dorrit could erect no—hum—suspicion of that kind on Mr + Gowan’s frankness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Again you are very good,’ said Gowan. ‘Mr Dorrit, I hear you are going to + Rome. I am going to Rome, having friends there. Let me begin to do you the + injustice I have conspired to do you, there—not here. We shall all + be hurried during the rest of our stay here; and though there’s not a + poorer man with whole elbows in Venice, than myself, I have not quite got + all the Amateur out of me yet—comprising the trade again, you see!—and + can’t fall on to order, in a hurry, for the mere sake of the sixpences.’ + </p> + <p> + These remarks were not less favourably received by Mr Dorrit than their + predecessors. They were the prelude to the first reception of Mr and Mrs + Gowan at dinner, and they skilfully placed Gowan on his usual ground in + the new family. + </p> + <p> + His wife, too, they placed on her usual ground. Miss Fanny understood, + with particular distinctness, that Mrs Gowan’s good looks had cost her + husband very dear; that there had been a great disturbance about her in + the Barnacle family; and that the Dowager Mrs Gowan, nearly heart-broken, + had resolutely set her face against the marriage until overpowered by her + maternal feelings. Mrs General likewise clearly understood that the + attachment had occasioned much family grief and dissension. Of honest Mr + Meagles no mention was made; except that it was natural enough that a + person of that sort should wish to raise his daughter out of his own + obscurity, and that no one could blame him for trying his best to do so. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s interest in the fair subject of this easily accepted + belief was too earnest and watchful to fail in accurate observation. She + could see that it had its part in throwing upon Mrs Gowan the touch of a + shadow under which she lived, and she even had an instinctive knowledge + that there was not the least truth in it. But it had an influence in + placing obstacles in the way of her association with Mrs Gowan by making + the Prunes and Prism school excessively polite to her, but not very + intimate with her; and Little Dorrit, as an enforced sizar of that + college, was obliged to submit herself humbly to its ordinances. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, there was a sympathetic understanding already established + between the two, which would have carried them over greater difficulties, + and made a friendship out of a more restricted intercourse. As though + accidents were determined to be favourable to it, they had a new assurance + of congeniality in the aversion which each perceived that the other felt + towards Blandois of Paris; an aversion amounting to the repugnance and + horror of a natural antipathy towards an odious creature of the reptile + kind. + </p> + <p> + And there was a passive congeniality between them, besides this active + one. To both of them, Blandois behaved in exactly the same manner; and to + both of them his manner had uniformly something in it, which they both + knew to be different from his bearing towards others. The difference was + too minute in its expression to be perceived by others, but they knew it + to be there. A mere trick of his evil eyes, a mere turn of his smooth + white hand, a mere hair’s-breadth of addition to the fall of his nose and + the rise of the moustache in the most frequent movement of his face, + conveyed to both of them, equally, a swagger personal to themselves. It + was as if he had said, ‘I have a secret power in this quarter. I know what + I know.’ + </p> + <p> + This had never been felt by them both in so great a degree, and never by + each so perfectly to the knowledge of the other, as on a day when he came + to Mr Dorrit’s to take his leave before quitting Venice. Mrs Gowan was + herself there for the same purpose, and he came upon the two together; the + rest of the family being out. The two had not been together five minutes, + and the peculiar manner seemed to convey to them, ‘You were going to talk + about me. Ha! Behold me here to prevent it!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Gowan is coming here?’ said Blandois, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Gowan replied he was not coming. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not coming!’ said Blandois. ‘Permit your devoted servant, when you leave + here, to escort you home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you: I am not going home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not going home!’ said Blandois. ‘Then I am forlorn.’ + </p> + <p> + That he might be; but he was not so forlorn as to roam away and leave them + together. He sat entertaining them with his finest compliments, and his + choicest conversation; but he conveyed to them, all the time, ‘No, no, no, + dear ladies. Behold me here expressly to prevent it!’ + </p> + <p> + He conveyed it to them with so much meaning, and he had such a diabolical + persistency in him, that at length, Mrs Gowan rose to depart. On his + offering his hand to Mrs Gowan to lead her down the staircase, she + retained Little Dorrit’s hand in hers, with a cautious pressure, and said, + ‘No, thank you. But, if you will please to see if my boatman is there, I + shall be obliged to you.’ + </p> + <p> + It left him no choice but to go down before them. As he did so, hat in + hand, Mrs Gowan whispered: + </p> + <p> + ‘He killed the dog.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does Mr Gowan know it?’ Little Dorrit whispered. + </p> + <p> + ‘No one knows it. Don’t look towards me; look towards him. He will turn + his face in a moment. No one knows it, but I am sure he did. You are?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I—I think so,’ Little Dorrit answered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Henry likes him, and he will not think ill of him; he is so generous and + open himself. But you and I feel sure that we think of him as he deserves. + He argued with Henry that the dog had been already poisoned when he + changed so, and sprang at him. Henry believes it, but we do not. I see he + is listening, but can’t hear. Good-bye, my love! Good-bye!’ + </p> + <p> + The last words were spoken aloud, as the vigilant Blandois stopped, turned + his head, and looked at them from the bottom of the staircase. Assuredly + he did look then, though he looked his politest, as if any real + philanthropist could have desired no better employment than to lash a + great stone to his neck, and drop him into the water flowing beyond the + dark arched gateway in which he stood. No such benefactor to mankind being + on the spot, he handed Mrs Gowan to her boat, and stood there until it had + shot out of the narrow view; when he handed himself into his own boat and + followed. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit had sometimes thought, and now thought again as she retraced + her steps up the staircase, that he had made his way too easily into her + father’s house. But so many and such varieties of people did the same, + through Mr Dorrit’s participation in his elder daughter’s society mania, + that it was hardly an exceptional case. A perfect fury for making + acquaintances on whom to impress their riches and importance, had seized + the House of Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + It appeared on the whole, to Little Dorrit herself, that this same society + in which they lived, greatly resembled a superior sort of Marshalsea. + Numbers of people seemed to come abroad, pretty much as people had come + into the prison; through debt, through idleness, relationship, curiosity, + and general unfitness for getting on at home. They were brought into these + foreign towns in the custody of couriers and local followers, just as the + debtors had been brought into the prison. They prowled about the churches + and picture-galleries, much in the old, dreary, prison-yard manner. They + were usually going away again to-morrow or next week, and rarely knew + their own minds, and seldom did what they said they would do, or went + where they said they would go: in all this again, very like the prison + debtors. They paid high for poor accommodation, and disparaged a place + while they pretended to like it: which was exactly the Marshalsea custom. + They were envied when they went away by people left behind, feigning not + to want to go: and that again was the Marshalsea habit invariably. A + certain set of words and phrases, as much belonging to tourists as the + College and the Snuggery belonged to the jail, was always in their mouths. + They had precisely the same incapacity for settling down to anything, as + the prisoners used to have; they rather deteriorated one another, as the + prisoners used to do; and they wore untidy dresses, and fell into a + slouching way of life: still, always like the people in the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + The period of the family’s stay at Venice came, in its course, to an end, + and they moved, with their retinue, to Rome. Through a repetition of the + former Italian scenes, growing more dirty and more haggard as they went + on, and bringing them at length to where the very air was diseased, they + passed to their destination. A fine residence had been taken for them on + the Corso, and there they took up their abode, in a city where everything + seemed to be trying to stand still for ever on the ruins of something else—except + the water, which, following eternal laws, tumbled and rolled from its + glorious multitude of fountains. + </p> + <p> + Here it seemed to Little Dorrit that a change came over the Marshalsea + spirit of their society, and that Prunes and Prism got the upper hand. + Everybody was walking about St Peter’s and the Vatican on somebody else’s + cork legs, and straining every visible object through somebody else’s + sieve. Nobody said what anything was, but everybody said what the Mrs + Generals, Mr Eustace, or somebody else said it was. The whole body of + travellers seemed to be a collection of voluntary human sacrifices, bound + hand and foot, and delivered over to Mr Eustace and his attendants, to + have the entrails of their intellects arranged according to the taste of + that sacred priesthood. Through the rugged remains of temples and tombs + and palaces and senate halls and theatres and amphitheatres of ancient + days, hosts of tongue-tied and blindfolded moderns were carefully feeling + their way, incessantly repeating Prunes and Prism in the endeavour to set + their lips according to the received form. Mrs General was in her pure + element. Nobody had an opinion. There was a formation of surface going on + around her on an amazing scale, and it had not a flaw of courage or honest + free speech in it. + </p> + <p> + Another modification of Prunes and Prism insinuated itself on Little + Dorrit’s notice very shortly after their arrival. They received an early + visit from Mrs Merdle, who led that extensive department of life in the + Eternal City that winter; and the skilful manner in which she and Fanny + fenced with one another on the occasion, almost made her quiet sister + wink, like the glittering of small-swords. + </p> + <p> + ‘So delighted,’ said Mrs Merdle, ‘to resume an acquaintance so + inauspiciously begun at Martigny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At Martigny, of course,’ said Fanny. ‘Charmed, I am sure!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I understand,’ said Mrs Merdle, ‘from my son Edmund Sparkler, that he has + already improved that chance occasion. He has returned quite transported + with Venice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ returned the careless Fanny. ‘Was he there long?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I might refer that question to Mr Dorrit,’ said Mrs Merdle, turning the + bosom towards that gentleman; ‘Edmund having been so much indebted to him + for rendering his stay agreeable.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, pray don’t speak of it,’ returned Fanny. ‘I believe Papa had the + pleasure of inviting Mr Sparkler twice or thrice,—but it was + nothing. We had so many people about us, and kept such open house, that if + he had that pleasure, it was less than nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Except, my dear,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘except—ha—as it afforded + me unusual gratification to—hum—show by any means, however + slight and worthless, the—ha, hum—high estimation in which, in—ha—common + with the rest of the world, I hold so distinguished and princely a + character as Mr Merdle’s.’ + </p> + <p> + The bosom received this tribute in its most engaging manner. ‘Mr Merdle,’ + observed Fanny, as a means of dismissing Mr Sparkler into the background, + ‘is quite a theme of Papa’s, you must know, Mrs Merdle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been—ha—disappointed, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘to + understand from Mr Sparkler that there is no great—hum—probability + of Mr Merdle’s coming abroad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, indeed,’ said Mrs Merdle, ‘he is so much engaged and in such + request, that I fear not. He has not been able to get abroad for years. + You, Miss Dorrit, I believe have been almost continually abroad for a long + time.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh dear yes,’ drawled Fanny, with the greatest hardihood. ‘An immense + number of years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So I should have inferred,’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Exactly,’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘I trust, however,’ resumed Mr Dorrit, ‘that if I have not the—hum—great + advantage of becoming known to Mr Merdle on this side of the Alps or + Mediterranean, I shall have that honour on returning to England. It is an + honour I particularly desire and shall particularly esteem.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Merdle,’ said Mrs Merdle, who had been looking admiringly at Fanny + through her eye-glass, ‘will esteem it, I am sure, no less.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, still habitually thoughtful and solitary though no longer + alone, at first supposed this to be mere Prunes and Prism. But as her + father when they had been to a brilliant reception at Mrs Merdle’s, harped + at their own family breakfast-table on his wish to know Mr Merdle, with + the contingent view of benefiting by the advice of that wonderful man in + the disposal of his fortune, she began to think it had a real meaning, and + to entertain a curiosity on her own part to see the shining light of the + time. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0044"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 8. The Dowager Mrs Gowan is reminded that ‘It Never Does’ + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile the waters of Venice and the ruins of Rome were sunning themselves + for the pleasure of the Dorrit family, and were daily being sketched out + of all earthly proportion, lineament, and likeness, by travelling pencils + innumerable, the firm of Doyce and Clennam hammered away in Bleeding Heart + Yard, and the vigorous clink of iron upon iron was heard there through the + working hours. + </p> + <p> + The younger partner had, by this time, brought the business into sound + trim; and the elder, left free to follow his own ingenious devices, had + done much to enhance the character of the factory. As an ingenious man, he + had necessarily to encounter every discouragement that the ruling powers + for a length of time had been able by any means to put in the way of this + class of culprits; but that was only reasonable self-defence in the + powers, since How to do it must obviously be regarded as the natural and + mortal enemy of How not to do it. In this was to be found the basis of the + wise system, by tooth and nail upheld by the Circumlocution Office, of + warning every ingenious British subject to be ingenious at his peril: of + harassing him, obstructing him, inviting robbers (by making his remedy + uncertain, and expensive) to plunder him, and at the best of confiscating + his property after a short term of enjoyment, as though invention were on + a par with felony. The system had uniformly found great favour with the + Barnacles, and that was only reasonable, too; for one who worthily invents + must be in earnest, and the Barnacles abhorred and dreaded nothing half so + much. That again was very reasonable; since in a country suffering under + the affliction of a great amount of earnestness, there might, in an + exceeding short space of time, be not a single Barnacle left sticking to a + post. + </p> + <p> + Daniel Doyce faced his condition with its pains and penalties attached to + it, and soberly worked on for the work’s sake. Clennam cheering him with a + hearty co-operation, was a moral support to him, besides doing good + service in his business relation. The concern prospered, and the partners + were fast friends. + </p> + <p> + But Daniel could not forget the old design of so many years. It was not in + reason to be expected that he should; if he could have lightly forgotten + it, he could never have conceived it, or had the patience and perseverance + to work it out. So Clennam thought, when he sometimes observed him of an + evening looking over the models and drawings, and consoling himself by + muttering with a sigh as he put them away again, that the thing was as + true as it ever was. + </p> + <p> + To show no sympathy with so much endeavour, and so much disappointment, + would have been to fail in what Clennam regarded as among the implied + obligations of his partnership. A revival of the passing interest in the + subject which had been by chance awakened at the door of the + Circumlocution Office, originated in this feeling. He asked his partner to + explain the invention to him; ‘having a lenient consideration,’ he + stipulated, ‘for my being no workman, Doyce.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No workman?’ said Doyce. ‘You would have been a thorough workman if you + had given yourself to it. You have as good a head for understanding such + things as I have met with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A totally uneducated one, I am sorry to add,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know that,’ returned Doyce, ‘and I wouldn’t have you say that. No + man of sense who has been generally improved, and has improved himself, + can be called quite uneducated as to anything. I don’t particularly favour + mysteries. I would as soon, on a fair and clear explanation, be judged by + one class of man as another, provided he had the qualification I have + named.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At all events,’ said Clennam—‘this sounds as if we were exchanging + compliments, but we know we are not—I shall have the advantage of as + plain an explanation as can be given.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ said Daniel, in his steady even way, ‘I’ll try to make it so.’ + </p> + <p> + He had the power, often to be found in union with such a character, of + explaining what he himself perceived, and meant, with the direct force and + distinctness with which it struck his own mind. His manner of + demonstration was so orderly and neat and simple, that it was not easy to + mistake him. There was something almost ludicrous in the complete + irreconcilability of a vague conventional notion that he must be a + visionary man, with the precise, sagacious travelling of his eye and thumb + over the plans, their patient stoppages at particular points, their + careful returns to other points whence little channels of explanation had + to be traced up, and his steady manner of making everything good and + everything sound at each important stage, before taking his hearer on a + line’s-breadth further. His dismissal of himself from his description, was + hardly less remarkable. He never said, I discovered this adaptation or + invented that combination; but showed the whole thing as if the Divine + artificer had made it, and he had happened to find it; so modest he was + about it, such a pleasant touch of respect was mingled with his quiet + admiration of it, and so calmly convinced he was that it was established + on irrefragable laws. + </p> + <p> + Not only that evening, but for several succeeding evenings, Clennam was + quite charmed by this investigation. The more he pursued it, and the + oftener he glanced at the grey head bending over it, and the shrewd eye + kindling with pleasure in it and love of it—instrument for probing + his heart though it had been made for twelve long years—the less he + could reconcile it to his younger energy to let it go without one effort + more. At length he said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Doyce, it came to this at last—that the business was to be sunk + with Heaven knows how many more wrecks, or begun all over again?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ returned Doyce, ‘that’s what the noblemen and gentlemen made of it + after a dozen years.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And pretty fellows too!’ said Clennam, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + ‘The usual thing!’ observed Doyce. ‘I must not make a martyr of myself, + when I am one of so large a company.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Relinquish it, or begin it all over again?’ mused Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘That was exactly the long and the short of it,’ said Doyce. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, my friend,’ cried Clennam, starting up and taking his + work-roughened hand, ‘it shall be begun all over again!’ + </p> + <p> + Doyce looked alarmed, and replied in a hurry—for him, ‘No, no. + Better put it by. Far better put it by. It will be heard of, one day. I + can put it by. You forget, my good Clennam; I <i>have</i> put it by. It’s + all at an end.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, Doyce,’ returned Clennam, ‘at an end as far as your efforts and + rebuffs are concerned, I admit, but not as far as mine are. I am younger + than you: I have only once set foot in that precious office, and I am + fresh game for them. Come! I’ll try them. You shall do exactly as you have + been doing since we have been together. I will add (as I easily can) to + what I have been doing, the attempt to get public justice done to you; + and, unless I have some success to report, you shall hear no more of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Daniel Doyce was still reluctant to consent, and again and again urged + that they had better put it by. But it was natural that he should + gradually allow himself to be over-persuaded by Clennam, and should yield. + Yield he did. So Arthur resumed the long and hopeless labour of striving + to make way with the Circumlocution Office. + </p> + <p> + The waiting-rooms of that Department soon began to be familiar with his + presence, and he was generally ushered into them by its janitors much as a + pickpocket might be shown into a police-office; the principal difference + being that the object of the latter class of public business is to keep + the pickpocket, while the Circumlocution object was to get rid of Clennam. + However, he was resolved to stick to the Great Department; and so the work + of form-filling, corresponding, minuting, memorandum-making, signing, + counter-signing, counter-counter-signing, referring backwards and + forwards, and referring sideways, crosswise, and zig-zag, recommenced. + </p> + <p> + Here arises a feature of the Circumlocution Office, not previously + mentioned in the present record. When that admirable Department got into + trouble, and was, by some infuriated members of Parliament whom the + smaller Barnacles almost suspected of labouring under diabolic possession, + attacked on the merits of no individual case, but as an Institution wholly + abominable and Bedlamite; then the noble or right honourable Barnacle who + represented it in the House, would smite that member and cleave him + asunder, with a statement of the quantity of business (for the prevention + of business) done by the Circumlocution Office. Then would that noble or + right honourable Barnacle hold in his hand a paper containing a few + figures, to which, with the permission of the House, he would entreat its + attention. Then would the inferior Barnacles exclaim, obeying + orders, ‘Hear, Hear, Hear!’ and ‘Read!’ Then would the noble or right + honourable Barnacle perceive, sir, from this little document, which he + thought might carry conviction even to the perversest mind (Derisive + laughter and cheering from the Barnacle fry), that within the short + compass of the last financial half-year, this much-maligned Department + (Cheers) had written and received fifteen thousand letters (Loud cheers), + had written twenty-four thousand minutes (Louder cheers), and thirty-two + thousand five hundred and seventeen memoranda (Vehement cheering). Nay, an + ingenious gentleman connected with the Department, and himself a valuable + public servant, had done him the favour to make a curious calculation of + the amount of stationery consumed in it during the same period. It formed + a part of this same short document; and he derived from it the remarkable + fact that the sheets of foolscap paper it had devoted to the public + service would pave the footways on both sides of Oxford Street from end to + end, and leave nearly a quarter of a mile to spare for the park (Immense + cheering and laughter); while of tape—red tape—it had used + enough to stretch, in graceful festoons, from Hyde Park Corner to the + General Post Office. Then, amidst a burst of official exultation, would + the noble or right honourable Barnacle sit down, leaving the mutilated + fragments of the Member on the field. No one, after that exemplary + demolition of him, would have the hardihood to hint that the more the + Circumlocution Office did, the less was done, and that the greatest + blessing it could confer on an unhappy public would be to do nothing. + </p> + <p> + With sufficient occupation on his hands, now that he had this additional + task—such a task had many and many a serviceable man died of before + his day—Arthur Clennam led a life of slight variety. Regular visits + to his mother’s dull sick room, and visits scarcely less regular to Mr + Meagles at Twickenham, were its only changes during many months. + </p> + <p> + He sadly and sorely missed Little Dorrit. He had been prepared to miss her + very much, but not so much. He knew to the full extent only through + experience, what a large place in his life was left blank when her + familiar little figure went out of it. He felt, too, that he must + relinquish the hope of its return, understanding the family character + sufficiently well to be assured that he and she were divided by a broad + ground of separation. The old interest he had had in her, and her old + trusting reliance on him, were tinged with melancholy in his mind: so soon + had change stolen over them, and so soon had they glided into the past + with other secret tendernesses. + </p> + <p> + When he received her letter he was greatly moved, but did not the less + sensibly feel that she was far divided from him by more than distance. It + helped him to a clearer and keener perception of the place assigned him by + the family. He saw that he was cherished in her grateful remembrance + secretly, and that they resented him with the jail and the rest of its + belongings. + </p> + <p> + Through all these meditations which every day of his life crowded about + her, he thought of her otherwise in the old way. She was his innocent + friend, his delicate child, his dear Little Dorrit. This very change of + circumstances fitted curiously in with the habit, begun on the night when + the roses floated away, of considering himself as a much older man than + his years really made him. He regarded her from a point of view which in + its remoteness, tender as it was, he little thought would have been + unspeakable agony to her. He speculated about her future destiny, and + about the husband she might have, with an affection for her which would + have drained her heart of its dearest drop of hope, and broken it. + </p> + <p> + Everything about him tended to confirm him in the custom of looking on + himself as an elderly man, from whom such aspirations as he had combated + in the case of Minnie Gowan (though that was not so long ago either, + reckoning by months and seasons), were finally departed. His relations + with her father and mother were like those on which a widower son-in-law + might have stood. If the twin sister who was dead had lived to pass away + in the bloom of womanhood, and he had been her husband, the nature of his + intercourse with Mr and Mrs Meagles would probably have been just what it + was. This imperceptibly helped to render habitual the impression within + him, that he had done with, and dismissed that part of life. + </p> + <p> + He invariably heard of Minnie from them, as telling them in her letters + how happy she was, and how she loved her husband; but inseparable from + that subject, he invariably saw the old cloud on Mr Meagles’s face. Mr + Meagles had never been quite so radiant since the marriage as before. He + had never quite recovered the separation from Pet. He was the same + good-humoured, open creature; but as if his face, from being much turned + towards the pictures of his two children which could show him only one + look, unconsciously adopted a characteristic from them, it always had now, + through all its changes of expression, a look of loss in it. + </p> + <p> + One wintry Saturday when Clennam was at the cottage, the Dowager Mrs Gowan + drove up, in the Hampton Court equipage which pretended to be the + exclusive equipage of so many individual proprietors. She descended, in + her shady ambuscade of green fan, to favour Mr and Mrs Meagles with a + call. + </p> + <p> + ‘And how do you both do, Papa and Mama Meagles?’ said she, encouraging her + humble connections. ‘And when did you last hear from or about my poor + fellow?’ + </p> + <p> + My poor fellow was her son; and this mode of speaking of him politely kept + alive, without any offence in the world, the pretence that he had fallen a + victim to the Meagles’ wiles. + </p> + <p> + ‘And the dear pretty one?’ said Mrs Gowan. ‘Have you later news of her + than I have?’ + </p> + <p> + Which also delicately implied that her son had been captured by mere + beauty, and under its fascination had forgone all sorts of worldly + advantages. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure,’ said Mrs Gowan, without straining her attention on the + answers she received, ‘it’s an unspeakable comfort to know they continue + happy. My poor fellow is of such a restless disposition, and has been so + used to roving about, and to being inconstant and popular among all manner + of people, that it’s the greatest comfort in life. I suppose they’re as + poor as mice, Papa Meagles?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles, fidgety under the question, replied, ‘I hope not, ma’am. I + hope they will manage their little income.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! my dearest Meagles!’ returned the lady, tapping him on the arm with + the green fan and then adroitly interposing it between a yawn and the + company, ‘how can you, as a man of the world and one of the most + business-like of human beings—for you know you are business-like, + and a great deal too much for us who are not—’ + </p> + <p> + (Which went to the former purpose, by making Mr Meagles out to be an + artful schemer.) + </p> + <p> + ‘—How can you talk about their managing their little means? My poor + dear fellow! The idea of his managing hundreds! And the sweet pretty + creature too. The notion of her managing! Papa Meagles! Don’t!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, gravely, ‘I am sorry to admit, then, that + Henry certainly does anticipate his means.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear good man—I use no ceremony with you, because we are a kind + of relations;—positively, Mama Meagles,’ exclaimed Mrs Gowan + cheerfully, as if the absurd coincidence then flashed upon her for the + first time, ‘a kind of relations! My dear good man, in this world none of + us can have <i>everything</i> our own way.’ + </p> + <p> + This again went to the former point, and showed Mr Meagles with all good + breeding that, so far, he had been brilliantly successful in his deep + designs. Mrs Gowan thought the hit so good a one, that she dwelt upon it; + repeating ‘Not <i>everything</i>. No, no; in this world we must not expect + <i>everything</i>, Papa Meagles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And may I ask, ma’am,’ retorted Mr Meagles, a little heightened in + colour, ‘who does expect everything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, nobody, nobody!’ said Mrs Gowan. ‘I was going to say—but you + put me out. You interrupting Papa, what was I going to say?’ + </p> + <p> + Drooping her large green fan, she looked musingly at Mr Meagles while she + thought about it; a performance not tending to the cooling of that + gentleman’s rather heated spirits. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! Yes, to be sure!’ said Mrs Gowan. ‘You must remember that my poor + fellow has always been accustomed to expectations. They may have been + realised, or they may not have been realised—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Let us say, then, may not have been realised,’ observed Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + The Dowager for a moment gave him an angry look; but tossed it off with + her head and her fan, and pursued the tenor of her way in her former + manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘It makes no difference. My poor fellow has been accustomed to that sort + of thing, and of course you knew it, and were prepared for the + consequences. I myself always clearly foresaw the consequences, and am not + surprised. And you must not be surprised. In fact, can’t be surprised. + Must have been prepared for it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles looked at his wife and at Clennam; bit his lip; and coughed. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now here’s my poor fellow,’ Mrs Gowan pursued, ‘receiving notice that + he is to hold himself in expectation of a baby, and all the expenses + attendant on such an addition to his family! Poor Henry! But it can’t be + helped now; it’s too late to help it now. Only don’t talk of anticipating + means, Papa Meagles, as a discovery; because that would be too much.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Too much, ma’am?’ said Mr Meagles, as seeking an explanation. + </p> + <p> + ‘There, there!’ said Mrs Gowan, putting him in his inferior place with an + expressive action of her hand. ‘Too much for my poor fellow’s mother to + bear at this time of day. They are fast married, and can’t be unmarried. + There, there! I know that! You needn’t tell me that, Papa Meagles. I know + it very well. What was it I said just now? That it was a great comfort + they continued happy. It is to be hoped they will still continue happy. It + is to be hoped Pretty One will do everything she can to make my poor + fellow happy, and keep him contented. Papa and Mama Meagles, we had better + say no more about it. We never did look at this subject from the same + side, and we never shall. There, there! Now I am good.’ + </p> + <p> + Truly, having by this time said everything she could say in maintenance of + her wonderfully mythical position, and in admonition to Mr Meagles that he + must not expect to bear his honours of alliance too cheaply, Mrs Gowan was + disposed to forgo the rest. If Mr Meagles had submitted to a glance of + entreaty from Mrs Meagles, and an expressive gesture from Clennam, he + would have left her in the undisturbed enjoyment of this state of mind. + But Pet was the darling and pride of his heart; and if he could ever have + championed her more devotedly, or loved her better, than in the days when + she was the sunlight of his house, it would have been now, when, as its + daily grace and delight, she was lost to it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Gowan, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘I have been a plain man all my life. + If I was to try—no matter whether on myself, on somebody else, or + both—any genteel mystifications, I should probably not succeed in + them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa Meagles,’ returned the Dowager, with an affable smile, but with the + bloom on her cheeks standing out a little more vividly than usual as the + neighbouring surface became paler, ‘probably not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Therefore, my good madam,’ said Mr Meagles, at great pains to restrain + himself, ‘I hope I may, without offence, ask to have no such mystification + played off upon me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mama Meagles,’ observed Mrs Gowan, ‘your good man is incomprehensible.’ + </p> + <p> + Her turning to that worthy lady was an artifice to bring her into the + discussion, quarrel with her, and vanquish her. Mr Meagles interposed to + prevent that consummation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother,’ said he, ‘you are inexpert, my dear, and it is not a fair match. + Let me beg of you to remain quiet. Come, Mrs Gowan, come! Let us try to be + sensible; let us try to be good-natured; let us try to be fair. Don’t you + pity Henry, and I won’t pity Pet. And don’t be one-sided, my dear madam; + it’s not considerate, it’s not kind. Don’t let us say that we hope Pet + will make Henry happy, or even that we hope Henry will make Pet happy,’ + (Mr Meagles himself did not look happy as he spoke the words,) ‘but let us + hope they will make each other happy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sure, and there leave it, father,’ said Mrs Meagles the kind-hearted + and comfortable. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, mother, no,’ returned Mr Meagles, ‘not exactly there. I can’t quite + leave it there; I must say just half-a-dozen words more. Mrs Gowan, I hope + I am not over-sensitive. I believe I don’t look it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed you do not,’ said Mrs Gowan, shaking her head and the great green + fan together, for emphasis. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, ma’am; that’s well. Notwithstanding which, I feel a little—I + don’t want to use a strong word—now shall I say hurt?’ asked Mr + Meagles at once with frankness and moderation, and with a conciliatory + appeal in his tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Say what you like,’ answered Mrs Gowan. ‘It is perfectly indifferent to + me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no, don’t say that,’ urged Mr Meagles, ‘because that’s not responding + amiably. I feel a little hurt when I hear references made to consequences + having been foreseen, and to its being too late now, and so forth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Do</i> you, Papa Meagles?’ said Mrs Gowan. ‘I am not surprised.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, ma’am,’ reasoned Mr Meagles, ‘I was in hopes you would have been at + least surprised, because to hurt me wilfully on so tender a subject is + surely not generous.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not responsible,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘for your conscience, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Mr Meagles looked aghast with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I am unluckily obliged to carry a cap about with me, which is yours + and fits you,’ pursued Mrs Gowan, ‘don’t blame me for its pattern, Papa + Meagles, I beg!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, good Lord, ma’am!’ Mr Meagles broke out, ‘that’s as much as to state—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Papa Meagles, Papa Meagles,’ said Mrs Gowan, who became extremely + deliberate and prepossessing in manner whenever that gentleman became at + all warm, ‘perhaps to prevent confusion, I had better speak for myself + than trouble your kindness to speak for me. It’s as much as to state, you + begin. If you please, I will finish the sentence. It is as much as to + state—not that I wish to press it or even recall it, for it is of no + use now, and my only wish is to make the best of existing circumstances—that + from the first to the last I always objected to this match of yours, and + at a very late period yielded a most unwilling consent to it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother!’ cried Mr Meagles. ‘Do you hear this! Arthur! Do you hear this!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The room being of a convenient size,’ said Mrs Gowan, looking about as + she fanned herself, ‘and quite charmingly adapted in all respects to + conversation, I should imagine I am audible in any part of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Some moments passed in silence, before Mr Meagles could hold himself in + his chair with sufficient security to prevent his breaking out of it at + the next word he spoke. At last he said: ‘Ma’am, I am very unwilling to + revive them, but I must remind you what my opinions and my course were, + all along, on that unfortunate subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my dear sir!’ said Mrs Gowan, smiling and shaking her head with + accusatory intelligence, ‘they were well understood by me, I assure you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I never, ma’am,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘knew unhappiness before that time, I + never knew anxiety before that time. It was a time of such distress to me + that—’ That Mr Meagles could really say no more about it, in short, + but passed his handkerchief before his face. + </p> + <p> + ‘I understood the whole affair,’ said Mrs Gowan, composedly looking over + her fan. ‘As you have appealed to Mr Clennam, I may appeal to Mr Clennam, + too. He knows whether I did or not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very unwilling,’ said Clennam, looked to by all parties, ‘to take + any share in this discussion, more especially because I wish to preserve + the best understanding and the clearest relations with Mr Henry Gowan. I + have very strong reasons indeed, for entertaining that wish. Mrs Gowan + attributed certain views of furthering the marriage to my friend here, in + conversation with me before it took place; and I endeavoured to undeceive + her. I represented that I knew him (as I did and do) to be strenuously + opposed to it, both in opinion and action.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see?’ said Mrs Gowan, turning the palms of her hands towards Mr + Meagles, as if she were Justice herself, representing to him that he had + better confess, for he had not a leg to stand on. ‘You see? Very good! Now + Papa and Mama Meagles both!’ here she rose; ‘allow me to take the liberty + of putting an end to this rather formidable controversy. I will not say + another word upon its merits. I will only say that it is an additional + proof of what one knows from all experience; that this kind of thing never + answers—as my poor fellow himself would say, that it never pays—in + one word, that it never does.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles asked, What kind of thing? + </p> + <p> + ‘It is in vain,’ said Mrs Gowan, ‘for people to attempt to get on together + who have such extremely different antecedents; who are jumbled against + each other in this accidental, matrimonial sort of way; and who cannot + look at the untoward circumstance which has shaken them together in the + same light. It never does.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles was beginning, ‘Permit me to say, ma’am—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, don’t,’ returned Mrs Gowan. ‘Why should you! It is an ascertained + fact. It never does. I will therefore, if you please, go my way, leaving + you to yours. I shall at all times be happy to receive my poor fellow’s + pretty wife, and I shall always make a point of being on the most + affectionate terms with her. But as to these terms, semi-family and + semi-stranger, semi-goring and semi-boring, they form a state of things + quite amusing in its impracticability. I assure you it never does.’ + </p> + <p> + The Dowager here made a smiling obeisance, rather to the room than to any + one in it, and therewith took a final farewell of Papa and Mama Meagles. + Clennam stepped forward to hand her to the Pill-Box which was at the + service of all the Pills in Hampton Court Palace; and she got into that + vehicle with distinguished serenity, and was driven away. + </p> + <p> + Thenceforth the Dowager, with a light and careless humour, often recounted + to her particular acquaintance how, after a hard trial, she had found it + impossible to know those people who belonged to Henry’s wife, and who had + made that desperate set to catch him. Whether she had come to the + conclusion beforehand, that to get rid of them would give her favourite + pretence a better air, might save her some occasional inconvenience, and + could risk no loss (the pretty creature being fast married, and her father + devoted to her), was best known to herself. Though this history has its + opinion on that point too, and decidedly in the affirmative. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0045"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 9. Appearance and Disappearance + </h2> + <p> + ‘Arthur, my dear boy,’ said Mr Meagles, on the evening of the following + day, ‘Mother and I have been talking this over, and we don’t feel + comfortable in remaining as we are. That elegant connection of ours—that + dear lady who was here yesterday—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I understand,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even that affable and condescending ornament of society,’ pursued Mr + Meagles, ‘may misrepresent us, we are afraid. We could bear a great deal, + Arthur, for her sake; but we think we would rather not bear that, if it + was all the same to her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good,’ said Arthur. ‘Go on.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ proceeded Mr Meagles ‘it might put us wrong with our + son-in-law, it might even put us wrong with our daughter, and it might + lead to a great deal of domestic trouble. You see, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, indeed,’ returned Arthur, ‘there is much reason in what you say.’ He + had glanced at Mrs Meagles, who was always on the good and sensible side; + and a petition had shone out of her honest face that he would support Mr + Meagles in his present inclinings. + </p> + <p> + ‘So we are very much disposed, are Mother and I,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘to + pack up bags and baggage and go among the Allongers and Marshongers once + more. I mean, we are very much disposed to be off, strike right through + France into Italy, and see our Pet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And I don’t think,’ replied Arthur, touched by the motherly anticipation + in the bright face of Mrs Meagles (she must have been very like her + daughter, once), ‘that you could do better. And if you ask me for my + advice, it is that you set off to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it really, though?’ said Mr Meagles. ‘Mother, this is being backed in + an idea!’ + </p> + <p> + Mother, with a look which thanked Clennam in a manner very agreeable to + him, answered that it was indeed. + </p> + <p> + ‘The fact is, besides, Arthur,’ said Mr Meagles, the old cloud coming over + his face, ‘that my son-in-law is already in debt again, and that I suppose + I must clear him again. It may be as well, even on this account, that I + should step over there, and look him up in a friendly way. Then again, + here’s Mother foolishly anxious (and yet naturally too) about Pet’s state + of health, and that she should not be left to feel lonesome at the present + time. It’s undeniably a long way off, Arthur, and a strange place for the + poor love under all the circumstances. Let her be as well cared for as any + lady in that land, still it is a long way off. just as Home is Home though + it’s never so Homely, why you see,’ said Mr Meagles, adding a new version + to the proverb, ‘Rome is Rome, though it’s never so Romely.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All perfectly true,’ observed Arthur, ‘and all sufficient reasons for + going.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad you think so; it decides me. Mother, my dear, you may get + ready. We have lost our pleasant interpreter (she spoke three foreign + languages beautifully, Arthur; you have heard her many a time), and you + must pull me through it, Mother, as well as you can. I require a deal of + pulling through, Arthur,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head, ‘a deal of + pulling through. I stick at everything beyond a noun-substantive—and + I stick at him, if he’s at all a tight one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I think of it,’ returned Clennam, ‘there’s Cavalletto. He shall go + with you, if you like. I could not afford to lose him, but you will bring + him safe back.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! I am much obliged to you, my boy,’ said Mr Meagles, turning it + over, ‘but I think not. No, I think I’ll be pulled through by Mother. + Cavallooro (I stick at his very name to start with, and it sounds like the + chorus to a comic song) is so necessary to you, that I don’t like the + thought of taking him away. More than that, there’s no saying when we may + come home again; and it would never do to take him away for an indefinite + time. The cottage is not what it was. It only holds two little people less + than it ever did, Pet, and her poor unfortunate maid Tattycoram; but it + seems empty now. Once out of it, there’s no knowing when we may come back + to it. No, Arthur, I’ll be pulled through by Mother.’ + </p> + <p> + They would do best by themselves perhaps, after all, Clennam thought; + therefore did not press his proposal. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you would come down and stay here for a change, when it wouldn’t + trouble you,’ Mr Meagles resumed, ‘I should be glad to think—and so + would Mother too, I know—that you were brightening up the old place + with a bit of life it was used to when it was full, and that the Babies on + the wall there had a kind eye upon them sometimes. You so belong to the + spot, and to them, Arthur, and we should every one of us have been so + happy if it had fallen out—but, let us see—how’s the weather + for travelling now?’ Mr Meagles broke off, cleared his throat, and got up + to look out of the window. + </p> + <p> + They agreed that the weather was of high promise; and Clennam kept the + talk in that safe direction until it had become easy again, when he gently + diverted it to Henry Gowan and his quick sense and agreeable qualities + when he was delicately dealt with; he likewise dwelt on the indisputable + affection he entertained for his wife. Clennam did not fail of his effect + upon good Mr Meagles, whom these commendations greatly cheered; and who + took Mother to witness that the single and cordial desire of his heart in + reference to their daughter’s husband, was harmoniously to exchange + friendship for friendship, and confidence for confidence. Within a few + hours the cottage furniture began to be wrapped up for preservation in the + family absence—or, as Mr Meagles expressed it, the house began to + put its hair in papers—and within a few days Father and Mother were + gone, Mrs Tickit and Dr Buchan were posted, as of yore, behind the parlour + blind, and Arthur’s solitary feet were rustling among the dry fallen + leaves in the garden walks. + </p> + <p> + As he had a liking for the spot, he seldom let a week pass without paying + a visit. Sometimes, he went down alone from Saturday to Monday; sometimes + his partner accompanied him; sometimes, he merely strolled for an hour or + two about the house and garden, saw that all was right, and returned to + London again. At all times, and under all circumstances, Mrs Tickit, with + her dark row of curls, and Dr Buchan, sat in the parlour window, looking + out for the family return. + </p> + <p> + On one of his visits Mrs Tickit received him with the words, ‘I have + something to tell you, Mr Clennam, that will surprise you.’ So surprising + was the something in question, that it actually brought Mrs Tickit out of + the parlour window and produced her in the garden walk, when Clennam went + in at the gate on its being opened for him. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is it, Mrs Tickit?’ said he. + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ returned that faithful housekeeper, having taken him into the + parlour and closed the door; ‘if ever I saw the led away and deluded child + in my life, I saw her identically in the dusk of yesterday evening.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t mean Tatty—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Coram yes I do!’ quoth Mrs Tickit, clearing the disclosure at a leap. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ returned Mrs Tickit, ‘I was a little heavy in my eyes, being + that I was waiting longer than customary for my cup of tea which was then + preparing by Mary Jane. I was not sleeping, nor what a person would term + correctly, dozing. I was more what a person would strictly call watching + with my eyes closed.’ + </p> + <p> + Without entering upon an inquiry into this curious abnormal condition, + Clennam said, ‘Exactly. Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ proceeded Mrs Tickit, ‘I was thinking of one thing and + thinking of another, just as you yourself might. Just as anybody might.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Precisely so,’ said Clennam. ‘Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And when I do think of one thing and do think of another,’ pursued Mrs + Tickit, ‘I hardly need to tell you, Mr Clennam, that I think of the + family. Because, dear me! a person’s thoughts,’ Mrs Tickit said this with + an argumentative and philosophic air, ‘however they may stray, will go + more or less on what is uppermost in their minds. They <i>will</i> do it, + sir, and a person can’t prevent them.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur subscribed to this discovery with a nod. + </p> + <p> + ‘You find it so yourself, sir, I’ll be bold to say,’ said Mrs Tickit, ‘and + we all find it so. It an’t our stations in life that changes us, Mr + Clennam; thoughts is free!—As I was saying, I was thinking of one + thing and thinking of another, and thinking very much of the family. Not + of the family in the present times only, but in the past times too. For + when a person does begin thinking of one thing and thinking of another in + that manner, as it’s getting dark, what I say is, that all times seem to + be present, and a person must get out of that state and consider before + they can say which is which.’ + </p> + <p> + He nodded again; afraid to utter a word, lest it should present any new + opening to Mrs Tickit’s conversational powers. + </p> + <p> + ‘In consequence of which,’ said Mrs Tickit, ‘when I quivered my eyes and + saw her actual form and figure looking in at the gate, I let them close + again without so much as starting, for that actual form and figure came so + pat to the time when it belonged to the house as much as mine or your own, + that I never thought at the moment of its having gone away. But, sir, when + I quivered my eyes again, and saw that it wasn’t there, then it all + flooded upon me with a fright, and I jumped up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You ran out directly?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘I ran out,’ assented Mrs Tickit, ‘as fast as ever my feet would carry me; + and if you’ll credit it, Mr Clennam, there wasn’t in the whole shining + Heavens, no not so much as a finger of that young woman.’ + </p> + <p> + Passing over the absence from the firmament of this novel constellation, + Arthur inquired of Mrs Tickit if she herself went beyond the gate? + </p> + <p> + ‘Went to and fro, and high and low,’ said Mrs Tickit, ‘and saw no sign of + her!’ + </p> + <p> + He then asked Mrs Tickit how long a space of time she supposed there might + have been between the two sets of ocular quiverings she had experienced? + Mrs Tickit, though minutely circumstantial in her reply, had no settled + opinion between five seconds and ten minutes. She was so plainly at sea on + this part of the case, and had so clearly been startled out of slumber, + that Clennam was much disposed to regard the appearance as a dream. + Without hurting Mrs Tickit’s feelings with that infidel solution of her + mystery, he took it away from the cottage with him; and probably would + have retained it ever afterwards if a circumstance had not soon happened + to change his opinion. + </p> + <p> + He was passing at nightfall along the Strand, and the lamp-lighter was + going on before him, under whose hand the street-lamps, blurred by the + foggy air, burst out one after another, like so many blazing sunflowers + coming into full-blow all at once,—when a stoppage on the pavement, + caused by a train of coal-waggons toiling up from the wharves at the + river-side, brought him to a stand-still. He had been walking quickly, and + going with some current of thought, and the sudden check given to both + operations caused him to look freshly about him, as people under such + circumstances usually do. + </p> + <p> + Immediately, he saw in advance—a few people intervening, but still + so near to him that he could have touched them by stretching out his arm—Tattycoram + and a strange man of a remarkable appearance: a swaggering man, with a + high nose, and a black moustache as false in its colour as his eyes were + false in their expression, who wore his heavy cloak with the air of a + foreigner. His dress and general appearance were those of a man on travel, + and he seemed to have very recently joined the girl. In bending down + (being much taller than she was), listening to whatever she said to him, + he looked over his shoulder with the suspicious glance of one who was not + unused to be mistrustful that his footsteps might be dogged. It was then + that Clennam saw his face; as his eyes lowered on the people behind him in + the aggregate, without particularly resting upon Clennam’s face or any + other. + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely turned his head about again, and it was still bent down, + listening to the girl, when the stoppage ceased, and the obstructed stream + of people flowed on. Still bending his head and listening to the girl, he + went on at her side, and Clennam followed them, resolved to play this + unexpected play out, and see where they went. + </p> + <p> + He had hardly made the determination (though he was not long about it), + when he was again as suddenly brought up as he had been by the stoppage. + They turned short into the Adelphi,—the girl evidently leading,—and + went straight on, as if they were going to the Terrace which overhangs the + river. + </p> + <p> + There is always, to this day, a sudden pause in that place to the roar of + the great thoroughfare. The many sounds become so deadened that the change + is like putting cotton in the ears, or having the head thickly muffled. At + that time the contrast was far greater; there being no small steam-boats + on the river, no landing places but slippery wooden stairs and + foot-causeways, no railroad on the opposite bank, no hanging bridge or + fish-market near at hand, no traffic on the nearest bridge of stone, + nothing moving on the stream but watermen’s wherries and coal-lighters. + Long and broad black tiers of the latter, moored fast in the mud as if + they were never to move again, made the shore funereal and silent after + dark; and kept what little water-movement there was, far out towards + mid-stream. At any hour later than sunset, and not least at that hour when + most of the people who have anything to eat at home are going home to eat + it, and when most of those who have nothing have hardly yet slunk out to + beg or steal, it was a deserted place and looked on a deserted scene. + </p> + <p> + Such was the hour when Clennam stopped at the corner, observing the girl + and the strange man as they went down the street. The man’s footsteps were + so noisy on the echoing stones that he was unwilling to add the sound of + his own. But when they had passed the turning and were in the darkness of + the dark corner leading to the terrace, he made after them with such + indifferent appearance of being a casual passenger on his way, as he could + assume. + </p> + <p> + When he rounded the dark corner, they were walking along the terrace + towards a figure which was coming towards them. If he had seen it by + itself, under such conditions of gas-lamp, mist, and distance, he might + not have known it at first sight, but with the figure of the girl to + prompt him, he at once recognised Miss Wade. + </p> + <p> + He stopped at the corner, seeming to look back expectantly up the street + as if he had made an appointment with some one to meet him there; but he + kept a careful eye on the three. When they came together, the man took off + his hat, and made Miss Wade a bow. The girl appeared to say a few words as + though she presented him, or accounted for his being late, or early, or + what not; and then fell a pace or so behind, by herself. Miss Wade and the + man then began to walk up and down; the man having the appearance of being + extremely courteous and complimentary in manner; Miss Wade having the + appearance of being extremely haughty. + </p> + <p> + When they came down to the corner and turned, she was saying, ‘If I pinch + myself for it, sir, that is my business. Confine yourself to yours, and + ask me no question.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Heaven, ma’am!’ he replied, making her another bow. ‘It was my + profound respect for the strength of your character, and my admiration of + your beauty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I want neither the one nor the other from any one,’ said she, ‘and + certainly not from you of all creatures. Go on with your report.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Am I pardoned?’ he asked, with an air of half abashed gallantry. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are paid,’ she said, ‘and that is all you want.’ + </p> + <p> + Whether the girl hung behind because she was not to hear the business, or + as already knowing enough about it, Clennam could not determine. They + turned and she turned. She looked away at the river, as she walked with + her hands folded before her; and that was all he could make of her without + showing his face. There happened, by good fortune, to be a lounger really + waiting for some one; and he sometimes looked over the railing at the + water, and sometimes came to the dark corner and looked up the street, + rendering Arthur less conspicuous. + </p> + <p> + When Miss Wade and the man came back again, she was saying, ‘You must wait + until to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A thousand pardons?’ he returned. ‘My faith! Then it’s not convenient + to-night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I tell you I must get it before I can give it to you.’ + </p> + <p> + She stopped in the roadway, as if to put an end to the conference. He of + course stopped too. And the girl stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a little inconvenient,’ said the man. ‘A little. But, Holy Blue! + that’s nothing in such a service. I am without money to-night, by chance. + I have a good banker in this city, but I would not wish to draw upon the + house until the time when I shall draw for a round sum.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Harriet,’ said Miss Wade, ‘arrange with him—this gentleman here—for + sending him some money to-morrow.’ She said it with a slur of the word + gentleman which was more contemptuous than any emphasis, and walked slowly + on. + </p> + <p> + The man bent his head again, and the girl spoke to him as they both + followed her. Clennam ventured to look at the girl as they moved away. He + could note that her rich black eyes were fastened upon the man with a + scrutinising expression, and that she kept at a little distance from him, + as they walked side by side to the further end of the terrace. + </p> + <p> + A loud and altered clank upon the pavement warned him, before he could + discern what was passing there, that the man was coming back alone. + Clennam lounged into the road, towards the railing; and the man passed at + a quick swing, with the end of his cloak thrown over his shoulder, singing + a scrap of a French song. + </p> + <p> + The whole vista had no one in it now but himself. The lounger had lounged + out of view, and Miss Wade and Tattycoram were gone. More than ever bent + on seeing what became of them, and on having some information to give his + good friend, Mr Meagles, he went out at the further end of the terrace, + looking cautiously about him. He rightly judged that, at first at all + events, they would go in a contrary direction from their late companion. + He soon saw them in a neighbouring bye-street, which was not a + thoroughfare, evidently allowing time for the man to get well out of their + way. They walked leisurely arm-in-arm down one side of the street, and + returned on the opposite side. When they came back to the street-corner, + they changed their pace for the pace of people with an object and a + distance before them, and walked steadily away. Clennam, no less steadily, + kept them in sight. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the Strand, and passed through Covent Garden (under the + windows of his old lodging where dear Little Dorrit had come that night), + and slanted away north-east, until they passed the great building whence + Tattycoram derived her name, and turned into the Gray’s Inn Road. Clennam + was quite at home here, in right of Flora, not to mention the Patriarch + and Pancks, and kept them in view with ease. He was beginning to wonder + where they might be going next, when that wonder was lost in the greater + wonder with which he saw them turn into the Patriarchal street. That + wonder was in its turn swallowed up on the greater wonder with which he + saw them stop at the Patriarchal door. A low double knock at the bright + brass knocker, a gleam of light into the road from the opened door, a + brief pause for inquiry and answer and the door was shut, and they were + housed. + </p> + <p> + After looking at the surrounding objects for assurance that he was not in + an odd dream, and after pacing a little while before the house, Arthur + knocked at the door. It was opened by the usual maid-servant, and she + showed him up at once, with her usual alacrity, to Flora’s sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + There was no one with Flora but Mr F.‘s Aunt, which respectable + gentlewoman, basking in a balmy atmosphere of tea and toast, was ensconced + in an easy-chair by the fireside, with a little table at her elbow, and a + clean white handkerchief spread over her lap on which two pieces of toast + at that moment awaited consumption. Bending over a steaming vessel of tea, + and looking through the steam, and breathing forth the steam, like a + malignant Chinese enchantress engaged in the performance of unholy rites, + Mr F.‘s Aunt put down her great teacup and exclaimed, ‘Drat him, if he + an’t come back again!’ + </p> + <p> + It would seem from the foregoing exclamation that this uncompromising + relative of the lamented Mr F., measuring time by the acuteness of her + sensations and not by the clock, supposed Clennam to have lately gone + away; whereas at least a quarter of a year had elapsed since he had had + the temerity to present himself before her. + </p> + <p> + ‘My goodness Arthur!’ cried Flora, rising to give him a cordial reception, + ‘Doyce and Clennam what a start and a surprise for though not far from the + machinery and foundry business and surely might be taken sometimes if at + no other time about mid-day when a glass of sherry and a humble sandwich + of whatever cold meat in the larder might not come amiss nor taste the + worse for being friendly for you know you buy it somewhere and wherever + bought a profit must be made or they would never keep the place it stands + to reason without a motive still never seen and learnt now not to be + expected, for as Mr F. himself said if seeing is believing not seeing is + believing too and when you don’t see you may fully believe you’re not + remembered not that I expect you Arthur Doyce and Clennam to remember me + why should I for the days are gone but bring another teacup here directly + and tell her fresh toast and pray sit near the fire.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur was in the greatest anxiety to explain the object of his visit; but + was put off for the moment, in spite of himself, by what he understood of + the reproachful purport of these words, and by the genuine pleasure she + testified in seeing him. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now pray tell me something all you know,’ said Flora, drawing her + chair near to his, ‘about the good dear quiet little thing and all the + changes of her fortunes carriage people now no doubt and horses without + number most romantic, a coat of arms of course and wild beasts on their + hind legs showing it as if it was a copy they had done with mouths from + ear to ear good gracious, and has she her health which is the first + consideration after all for what is wealth without it Mr F. himself so + often saying when his twinges came that sixpence a day and find yourself + and no gout so much preferable, not that he could have lived on anything + like it being the last man or that the previous little thing though far + too familiar an expression now had any tendency of that sort much too + slight and small but looked so fragile bless her?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr F.‘s Aunt, who had eaten a piece of toast down to the crust, here + solemnly handed the crust to Flora, who ate it for her as a matter of + business. Mr F.‘s Aunt then moistened her ten fingers in slow succession + at her lips, and wiped them in exactly the same order on the white + handkerchief; then took the other piece of toast, and fell to work upon + it. While pursuing this routine, she looked at Clennam with an expression + of such intense severity that he felt obliged to look at her in return, + against his personal inclinations. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is in Italy, with all her family, Flora,’ he said, when the dreaded + lady was occupied again. + </p> + <p> + ‘In Italy is she really?’ said Flora, ‘with the grapes growing everywhere + and lava necklaces and bracelets too that land of poetry with burning + mountains picturesque beyond belief though if the organ-boys come away + from the neighbourhood not to be scorched nobody can wonder being so young + and bringing their white mice with them most humane, and is she really in + that favoured land with nothing but blue about her and dying gladiators + and Belvederes though Mr F. himself did not believe for his objection when + in spirits was that the images could not be true there being no medium + between expensive quantities of linen badly got up and all in creases and + none whatever, which certainly does not seem probable though perhaps in + consequence of the extremes of rich and poor which may account for it.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur tried to edge a word in, but Flora hurried on again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Venice Preserved too,’ said she, ‘I think you have been there is it well + or ill preserved for people differ so and Maccaroni if they really eat it + like the conjurors why not cut it shorter, you are acquainted Arthur—dear + Doyce and Clennam at least not dear and most assuredly not Doyce for I + have not the pleasure but pray excuse me—acquainted I believe with + Mantua what <i>has</i> it got to do with Mantua-making for I never have + been able to conceive?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I believe there is no connection, Flora, between the two,’ Arthur was + beginning, when she caught him up again. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0476m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0476m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0476.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Upon your word no isn’t there I never did but that’s like me I run away + with an idea and having none to spare I keep it, alas there was a time + dear Arthur that is to say decidedly not dear nor Arthur neither but you + understand me when one bright idea gilded the what’s-his-name horizon of + et cetera but it is darkly clouded now and all is over.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur’s increasing wish to speak of something very different was by this + time so plainly written on his face, that Flora stopped in a tender look, + and asked him what it was? + </p> + <p> + ‘I have the greatest desire, Flora, to speak to some one who is now in + this house—with Mr Casby no doubt. Some one whom I saw come in, and + who, in a misguided and deplorable way, has deserted the house of a friend + of mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa sees so many and such odd people,’ said Flora, rising, ‘that I + shouldn’t venture to go down for any one but you Arthur but for you I + would willingly go down in a diving-bell much more a dining-room and will + come back directly if you’ll mind and at the same time not mind Mr F.‘s + Aunt while I’m gone.’ + </p> + <p> + With those words and a parting glance, Flora bustled out, leaving Clennam + under dreadful apprehension of this terrible charge. + </p> + <p> + The first variation which manifested itself in Mr F.‘s Aunt’s demeanour + when she had finished her piece of toast, was a loud and prolonged sniff. + Finding it impossible to avoid construing this demonstration into a + defiance of himself, its gloomy significance being unmistakable, Clennam + looked plaintively at the excellent though prejudiced lady from whom it + emanated, in the hope that she might be disarmed by a meek submission. + </p> + <p> + ‘None of your eyes at me,’ said Mr F.‘s Aunt, shivering with hostility. + ‘Take that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’ was the crust of the piece of toast. Clennam accepted the boon with + a look of gratitude, and held it in his hand under the pressure of a + little embarrassment, which was not relieved when Mr F.‘s Aunt, elevating + her voice into a cry of considerable power, exclaimed, ‘He has a proud + stomach, this chap! He’s too proud a chap to eat it!’ and, coming out of + her chair, shook her venerable fist so very close to his nose as to tickle + the surface. But for the timely return of Flora, to find him in this + difficult situation, further consequences might have ensued. Flora, + without the least discomposure or surprise, but congratulating the old + lady in an approving manner on being ‘very lively to-night’, handed her + back to her chair. + </p> + <p> + ‘He has a proud stomach, this chap,’ said Mr F.‘s relation, on being + reseated. ‘Give him a meal of chaff!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I don’t think he would like that, aunt,’ returned Flora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Give him a meal of chaff, I tell you,’ said Mr F.‘s Aunt, glaring round + Flora on her enemy. ‘It’s the only thing for a proud stomach. Let him eat + up every morsel. Drat him, give him a meal of chaff!’ + </p> + <p> + Under a general pretence of helping him to this refreshment, Flora got him + out on the staircase; Mr F.‘s Aunt even then constantly reiterating, with + inexpressible bitterness, that he was ‘a chap,’ and had a ‘proud stomach,’ + and over and over again insisting on that equine provision being made for + him which she had already so strongly prescribed. + </p> + <p> + ‘Such an inconvenient staircase and so many corner-stairs Arthur,’ + whispered Flora, ‘would you object to putting your arm round me under my + pelerine?’ + </p> + <p> + With a sense of going down-stairs in a highly-ridiculous manner, Clennam + descended in the required attitude, and only released his fair burden at + the dining-room door; indeed, even there she was rather difficult to be + got rid of, remaining in his embrace to murmur, ‘Arthur, for mercy’s sake, + don’t breathe it to papa!’ + </p> + <p> + She accompanied Arthur into the room, where the Patriarch sat alone, with + his list shoes on the fender, twirling his thumbs as if he had never left + off. The youthful Patriarch, aged ten, looked out of his picture-frame + above him with no calmer air than he. Both smooth heads were alike + beaming, blundering, and bumpy. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, I am glad to see you. I hope you are well, sir, I hope you + are well. Please to sit down, please to sit down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had hoped, sir,’ said Clennam, doing so, and looking round with a face + of blank disappointment, ‘not to find you alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, indeed?’ said the Patriarch, sweetly. ‘Ah, indeed?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I told you so you know papa,’ cried Flora. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, to be sure!’ returned the Patriarch. ‘Yes, just so. Ah, to be sure!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, sir,’ demanded Clennam, anxiously, ‘is Miss Wade gone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss—? Oh, you call her Wade,’ returned Mr Casby. ‘Highly proper.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur quickly returned, ‘What do you call her?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wade,’ said Mr Casby. ‘Oh, always Wade.’ + </p> + <p> + After looking at the philanthropic visage and the long silky white hair + for a few seconds, during which Mr Casby twirled his thumbs, and smiled at + the fire as if he were benevolently wishing it to burn him that he might + forgive it, Arthur began: + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon, Mr Casby—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not so, not so,’ said the Patriarch, ‘not so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘—But, Miss Wade had an attendant with her—a young woman + brought up by friends of mine, over whom her influence is not considered + very salutary, and to whom I should be glad to have the opportunity of + giving the assurance that she has not yet forfeited the interest of those + protectors.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really, really?’ returned the Patriarch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you therefore be so good as to give me the address of Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear, dear, dear!’ said the Patriarch, ‘how very unfortunate! If you had + only sent in to me when they were here! I observed the young woman, Mr + Clennam. A fine full-coloured young woman, Mr Clennam, with very dark hair + and very dark eyes. If I mistake not, if I mistake not?’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur assented, and said once more with new expression, ‘If you would be + so good as to give me the address.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear, dear, dear!’ exclaimed the Patriarch in sweet regret. ‘Tut, tut, + tut! what a pity, what a pity! I have no address, sir. Miss Wade mostly + lives abroad, Mr Clennam. She has done so for some years, and she is (if I + may say so of a fellow-creature and a lady) fitful and uncertain to a + fault, Mr Clennam. I may not see her again for a long, long time. I may + never see her again. What a pity, what a pity!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam saw now, that he had as much hope of getting assistance out of the + Portrait as out of the Patriarch; but he said nevertheless: + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Casby, could you, for the satisfaction of the friends I have + mentioned, and under any obligation of secrecy that you may consider it + your duty to impose, give me any information at all touching Miss Wade? I + have seen her abroad, and I have seen her at home, but I know nothing of + her. Could you give me any account of her whatever?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘None,’ returned the Patriarch, shaking his big head with his utmost + benevolence. ‘None at all. Dear, dear, dear! What a real pity that she + stayed so short a time, and you delayed! As confidential agency business, + agency business, I have occasionally paid this lady money; but what + satisfaction is it to you, sir, to know that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Truly, none at all,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Truly,’ assented the Patriarch, with a shining face as he + philanthropically smiled at the fire, ‘none at all, sir. You hit the wise + answer, Mr Clennam. Truly, none at all, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + His turning of his smooth thumbs over one another as he sat there, was so + typical to Clennam of the way in which he would make the subject revolve + if it were pursued, never showing any new part of it nor allowing it to + make the smallest advance, that it did much to help to convince him of his + labour having been in vain. He might have taken any time to think about + it, for Mr Casby, well accustomed to get on anywhere by leaving everything + to his bumps and his white hair, knew his strength to lie in silence. So + there Casby sat, twirling and twirling, and making his polished head and + forehead look largely benevolent in every knob. + </p> + <p> + With this spectacle before him, Arthur had risen to go, when from the + inner Dock where the good ship Pancks was hove down when out in no + cruising ground, the noise was heard of that steamer labouring towards + him. It struck Arthur that the noise began demonstratively far off, as + though Mr Pancks sought to impress on any one who might happen to think + about it, that he was working on from out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks and he shook hands, and the former brought his employer a letter + or two to sign. Mr Pancks in shaking hands merely scratched his eyebrow + with his left forefinger and snorted once, but Clennam, who understood him + better now than of old, comprehended that he had almost done for the + evening and wished to say a word to him outside. Therefore, when he had + taken his leave of Mr Casby, and (which was a more difficult process) of + Flora, he sauntered in the neighbourhood on Mr Pancks’s line of road. + </p> + <p> + He had waited but a short time when Mr Pancks appeared. Mr Pancks shaking + hands again with another expressive snort, and taking off his hat to put + his hair up, Arthur thought he received his cue to speak to him as one who + knew pretty well what had just now passed. Therefore he said, without any + preface: + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose they were really gone, Pancks?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ replied Pancks. ‘They were really gone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Does he know where to find that lady?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t say. I should think so.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks did not? No, Mr Pancks did not. Did Mr Pancks know anything + about her? + </p> + <p> + ‘I expect,’ rejoined that worthy, ‘I know as much about her as she knows + about herself. She is somebody’s child—anybody’s, nobody’s. Put her + in a room in London here with any six people old enough to be her parents, + and her parents may be there for anything she knows. They may be in any + house she sees, they may be in any churchyard she passes, she may run + against ‘em in any street, she may make chance acquaintance of ‘em at any + time; and never know it. She knows nothing about ‘em. She knows nothing + about any relative whatever. Never did. Never will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Casby could enlighten her, perhaps?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May be,’ said Pancks. ‘I expect so, but don’t know. He has long had money + (not overmuch as I make out) in trust to dole out to her when she can’t do + without it. Sometimes she’s proud and won’t touch it for a length of time; + sometimes she’s so poor that she must have it. She writhes under her life. + A woman more angry, passionate, reckless, and revengeful never lived. She + came for money to-night. Said she had peculiar occasion for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ observed Clennam musing, ‘I by chance know what occasion—I + mean into whose pocket the money is to go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed?’ said Pancks. ‘If it’s a compact, I recommend that party to be + exact in it. I wouldn’t trust myself to that woman, young and handsome as + she is, if I had wronged her; no, not for twice my proprietor’s money! + Unless,’ Pancks added as a saving clause, ‘I had a lingering illness on + me, and wanted to get it over.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur, hurriedly reviewing his own observation of her, found it to tally + pretty nearly with Mr Pancks’s view. + </p> + <p> + ‘The wonder is to me,’ pursued Pancks, ‘that she has never done for my + proprietor, as the only person connected with her story she can lay hold + of. Mentioning that, I may tell you, between ourselves, that I am + sometimes tempted to do for him myself.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur started and said, ‘Dear me, Pancks, don’t say that!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Understand me,’ said Pancks, extending five cropped coaly finger-nails on + Arthur’s arm; ‘I don’t mean, cut his throat. But by all that’s precious, + if he goes too far, I’ll cut his hair!’ + </p> + <p> + Having exhibited himself in the new light of enunciating this tremendous + threat, Mr Pancks, with a countenance of grave import, snorted several + times and steamed away. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0046"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 10. The Dreams of Mrs Flintwinch thicken + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he shady waiting-rooms of the Circumlocution Office, where he passed a + good deal of time in company with various troublesome Convicts who were + under sentence to be broken alive on that wheel, had afforded Arthur + Clennam ample leisure, in three or four successive days, to exhaust the + subject of his late glimpse of Miss Wade and Tattycoram. He had been able + to make no more of it and no less of it, and in this unsatisfactory + condition he was fain to leave it. + </p> + <p> + During this space he had not been to his mother’s dismal old house. One of + his customary evenings for repairing thither now coming round, he left his + dwelling and his partner at nearly nine o’clock, and slowly walked in the + direction of that grim home of his youth. + </p> + <p> + It always affected his imagination as wrathful, mysterious, and sad; and + his imagination was sufficiently impressible to see the whole + neighbourhood under some tinge of its dark shadow. As he went along, upon + a dreary night, the dim streets by which he went, seemed all depositories + of oppressive secrets. The deserted counting-houses, with their secrets of + books and papers locked up in chests and safes; the banking-houses, with + their secrets of strong rooms and wells, the keys of which were in a very + few secret pockets and a very few secret breasts; the secrets of all the + dispersed grinders in the vast mill, among whom there were doubtless + plunderers, forgers, and trust-betrayers of many sorts, whom the light of + any day that dawned might reveal; he could have fancied that these things, + in hiding, imparted a heaviness to the air. The shadow thickening and + thickening as he approached its source, he thought of the secrets of the + lonely church-vaults, where the people who had hoarded and secreted in + iron coffers were in their turn similarly hoarded, not yet at rest from + doing harm; and then of the secrets of the river, as it rolled its turbid + tide between two frowning wildernesses of secrets, extending, thick and + dense, for many miles, and warding off the free air and the free country + swept by winds and wings of birds. + </p> + <p> + The shadow still darkening as he drew near the house, the melancholy room + which his father had once occupied, haunted by the appealing face he had + himself seen fade away with him when there was no other watcher by the + bed, arose before his mind. Its close air was secret. The gloom, and must, + and dust of the whole tenement, were secret. At the heart of it his mother + presided, inflexible of face, indomitable of will, firmly holding all the + secrets of her own and his father’s life, and austerely opposing herself, + front to front, to the great final secret of all life. + </p> + <p> + He had turned into the narrow and steep street from which the court of + enclosure wherein the house stood opened, when another footstep turned + into it behind him, and so close upon his own that he was jostled to the + wall. As his mind was teeming with these thoughts, the encounter took him + altogether unprepared, so that the other passenger had had time to say, + boisterously, ‘Pardon! Not my fault!’ and to pass on before the instant + had elapsed which was requisite to his recovery of the realities about + him. + </p> + <p> + When that moment had flashed away, he saw that the man striding on before + him was the man who had been so much in his mind during the last few days. + It was no casual resemblance, helped out by the force of the impression + the man made upon him. It was the man; the man he had followed in company + with the girl, and whom he had overheard talking to Miss Wade. + </p> + <p> + The street was a sharp descent and was crooked too, and the man (who + although not drunk had the air of being flushed with some strong drink) + went down it so fast that Clennam lost him as he looked at him. With no + defined intention of following him, but with an impulse to keep the figure + in view a little longer, Clennam quickened his pace to pass the twist in + the street which hid him from his sight. On turning it, he saw the man no + more. + </p> + <p> + Standing now, close to the gateway of his mother’s house, he looked down + the street: but it was empty. There was no projecting shadow large enough + to obscure the man; there was no turning near that he could have taken; + nor had there been any audible sound of the opening and closing of a door. + Nevertheless, he concluded that the man must have had a key in his hand, + and must have opened one of the many house-doors and gone in. + </p> + <p> + Ruminating on this strange chance and strange glimpse, he turned into the + court-yard. As he looked, by mere habit, towards the feebly lighted + windows of his mother’s room, his eyes encountered the figure he had just + lost, standing against the iron railings of the little waste enclosure + looking up at those windows and laughing to himself. Some of the many + vagrant cats who were always prowling about there by night, and who had + taken fright at him, appeared to have stopped when he had stopped, and + were looking at him with eyes by no means unlike his own from tops of + walls and porches, and other safe points of pause. He had only halted for + a moment to entertain himself thus; he immediately went forward, throwing + the end of his cloak off his shoulder as he went, ascended the unevenly + sunken steps, and knocked a sounding knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + Clennam’s surprise was not so absorbing but that he took his resolution + without any incertitude. He went up to the door too, and ascended the + steps too. His friend looked at him with a braggart air, and sang to + himself. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + After which he knocked again. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are impatient, sir,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am, sir. Death of my life, sir,’ returned the stranger, ‘it’s my + character to be impatient!’ + </p> + <p> + The sound of Mistress Affery cautiously chaining the door before she + opened it, caused them both to look that way. Affery opened it a very + little, with a flaring candle in her hands and asked who was that, at that + time of night, with that knock! ‘Why, Arthur!’ she added with + astonishment, seeing him first. ‘Not you sure? Ah, Lord save us! No,’ she + cried out, seeing the other. ‘Him again!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s true! Him again, dear Mrs Flintwinch,’ cried the stranger. ‘Open the + door, and let me take my dear friend Jeremiah to my arms! Open the door, + and let me hasten myself to embrace my Flintwinch!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s not at home,’ cried Affery. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch him!’ cried the stranger. ‘Fetch my Flintwinch! Tell him that it is + his old Blandois, who comes from arriving in England; tell him that it is + his little boy who is here, his cabbage, his well-beloved! Open the door, + beautiful Mrs Flintwinch, and in the meantime let me to pass upstairs, to + present my compliments—homage of Blandois—to my lady! My lady + lives always? It is well. Open then!’ + </p> + <p> + To Arthur’s increased surprise, Mistress Affery, stretching her eyes wide + at himself, as if in warning that this was not a gentleman for him to + interfere with, drew back the chain, and opened the door. The stranger, + without ceremony, walked into the hall, leaving Arthur to follow him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Despatch then! Achieve then! Bring my Flintwinch! Announce me to my + lady!’ cried the stranger, clanking about the stone floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray tell me, Affery,’ said Arthur aloud and sternly, as he surveyed him + from head to foot with indignation; ‘who is this gentleman?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray tell me, Affery,’ the stranger repeated in his turn, ‘who—ha, + ha, ha!—who is this gentleman?’ + </p> + <p> + The voice of Mrs Clennam opportunely called from her chamber above, + ‘Affery, let them both come up. Arthur, come straight to me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Arthur?’ exclaimed Blandois, taking off his hat at arm’s length, and + bringing his heels together from a great stride in making him a + flourishing bow. ‘The son of my lady? I am the all-devoted of the son of + my lady!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at him again in no more flattering manner than before, and, + turning on his heel without acknowledgment, went up-stairs. The visitor + followed him up-stairs. Mistress Affery took the key from behind the door, + and deftly slipped out to fetch her lord. + </p> + <p> + A bystander, informed of the previous appearance of Monsieur Blandois in + that room, would have observed a difference in Mrs Clennam’s present + reception of him. Her face was not one to betray it; and her suppressed + manner, and her set voice, were equally under her control. It wholly + consisted in her never taking her eyes off his face from the moment of his + entrance, and in her twice or thrice, when he was becoming noisy, swaying + herself a very little forward in the chair in which she sat upright, with + her hands immovable upon its elbows; as if she gave him the assurance that + he should be presently heard at any length he would. Arthur did not fail + to observe this; though the difference between the present occasion and + the former was not within his power of observation. + </p> + <p> + ‘Madame,’ said Blandois, ‘do me the honour to present me to Monsieur, your + son. It appears to me, madame, that Monsieur, your son, is disposed to + complain of me. He is not polite.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said Arthur, striking in expeditiously, ‘whoever you are, and + however you come to be here, if I were the master of this house I would + lose no time in placing you on the outside of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are not,’ said his mother, without looking at him. ‘Unfortunately + for the gratification of your unreasonable temper, you are not the master, + Arthur.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I make no claim to be, mother. If I object to this person’s manner of + conducting himself here, and object to it so much, that if I had any + authority here I certainly would not suffer him to remain a minute, I + object on your account.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the case of objection being necessary,’ she returned, ‘I could object + for myself. And of course I should.’ + </p> + <p> + The subject of their dispute, who had seated himself, laughed aloud, and + rapped his legs with his hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have no right,’ said Mrs Clennam, always intent on Blandois, however + directly she addressed her son, ‘to speak to the prejudice of any + gentleman (least of all a gentleman from another country), because he does + not conform to your standard, or square his behaviour by your rules. It is + possible that the gentleman may, on similar grounds, object to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope so,’ returned Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘The gentleman,’ pursued Mrs Clennam, ‘on a former occasion brought a + letter of recommendation to us from highly esteemed and responsible + correspondents. I am perfectly unacquainted with the gentleman’s object in + coming here at present. I am entirely ignorant of it, and cannot be + supposed likely to be able to form the remotest guess at its nature;’ her + habitual frown became stronger, as she very slowly and weightily + emphasised those words; ‘but, when the gentleman proceeds to explain his + object, as I shall beg him to have the goodness to do to myself and + Flintwinch, when Flintwinch returns, it will prove, no doubt, to be one + more or less in the usual way of our business, which it will be both our + business and our pleasure to advance. It can be nothing else.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall see, madame!’ said the man of business. + </p> + <p> + ‘We shall see,’ she assented. ‘The gentleman is acquainted with + Flintwinch; and when the gentleman was in London last, I remember to have + heard that he and Flintwinch had some entertainment or good-fellowship + together. I am not in the way of knowing much that passes outside this + room, and the jingle of little worldly things beyond it does not much + interest me; but I remember to have heard that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Right, madame. It is true.’ He laughed again, and whistled the burden of + the tune he had sung at the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Therefore, Arthur,’ said his mother, ‘the gentleman comes here as an + acquaintance, and no stranger; and it is much to be regretted that your + unreasonable temper should have found offence in him. I regret it. I say + so to the gentleman. You will not say so, I know; therefore I say it for + myself and Flintwinch, since with us two the gentleman’s business lies.’ + </p> + <p> + The key of the door below was now heard in the lock, and the door was + heard to open and close. In due sequence Mr Flintwinch appeared; on whose + entrance the visitor rose from his chair, laughing loud, and folded him in + a close embrace. + </p> + <p> + ‘How goes it, my cherished friend!’ said he. ‘How goes the world, my + Flintwinch? Rose-coloured? So much the better, so much the better! Ah, but + you look charming! Ah, but you look young and fresh as the flowers of + Spring! Ah, good little boy! Brave child, brave child!’ + </p> + <p> + While heaping these compliments on Mr Flintwinch, he rolled him about with + a hand on each of his shoulders, until the staggerings of that gentleman, + who under the circumstances was dryer and more twisted than ever, were + like those of a teetotum nearly spent. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0486m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0486m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0486.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘I had a presentiment, last time, that we should be better and more + intimately acquainted. Is it coming on you, Flintwinch? Is it yet coming + on?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, no, sir,’ retorted Mr Flintwinch. ‘Not unusually. Hadn’t you better + be seated? You have been calling for some more of that port, sir, I + guess?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah, Little joker! Little pig!’ cried the visitor. ‘Ha ha ha ha!’ And + throwing Mr Flintwinch away, as a closing piece of raillery, he sat down + again. + </p> + <p> + The amazement, suspicion, resentment, and shame, with which Arthur looked + on at all this, struck him dumb. Mr Flintwinch, who had spun backward some + two or three yards under the impetus last given to him, brought himself up + with a face completely unchanged in its stolidity except as it was + affected by shortness of breath, and looked hard at Arthur. Not a whit + less reticent and wooden was Mr Flintwinch outwardly, than in the usual + course of things: the only perceptible difference in him being that the + knot of cravat which was generally under his ear, had worked round to the + back of his head: where it formed an ornamental appendage not unlike a + bagwig, and gave him something of a courtly appearance. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs Clennam never removed her eyes from Blandois (on whom they had some + effect, as a steady look has on a lower sort of dog), so Jeremiah never + removed his from Arthur. It was as if they had tacitly agreed to take + their different provinces. Thus, in the ensuing silence, Jeremiah stood + scraping his chin and looking at Arthur as though he were trying to screw + his thoughts out of him with an instrument. + </p> + <p> + After a little, the visitor, as if he felt the silence irksome, rose, and + impatiently put himself with his back to the sacred fire which had burned + through so many years. Thereupon Mrs Clennam said, moving one of her hands + for the first time, and moving it very slightly with an action of + dismissal: + </p> + <p> + ‘Please to leave us to our business, Arthur.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, I do so with reluctance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never mind with what,’ she returned, ‘or with what not. Please to leave + us. Come back at any other time when you may consider it a duty to bury + half an hour wearily here. Good night.’ + </p> + <p> + She held up her muffled fingers that he might touch them with his, + according to their usual custom, and he stood over her wheeled chair to + touch her face with his lips. He thought, then, that her cheek was more + strained than usual, and that it was colder. As he followed the direction + of her eyes, in rising again, towards Mr Flintwinch’s good friend, Mr + Blandois, Mr Blandois snapped his finger and thumb with one loud + contemptuous snap. + </p> + <p> + ‘I leave your—your business acquaintance in my mother’s room, Mr + Flintwinch,’ said Clennam, ‘with a great deal of surprise and a great deal + of unwillingness.’ + </p> + <p> + The person referred to snapped his finger and thumb again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night, mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I had a friend once, my good comrade Flintwinch,’ said Blandois, standing + astride before the fire, and so evidently saying it to arrest Clennam’s + retreating steps, that he lingered near the door; ‘I had a friend once, + who had heard so much of the dark side of this city and its ways, that he + wouldn’t have confided himself alone by night with two people who had an + interest in getting him under the ground—my faith! not even in a + respectable house like this—unless he was bodily too strong for + them. Bah! What a poltroon, my Flintwinch! Eh?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A cur, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Agreed! A cur. But he wouldn’t have done it, my Flintwinch, unless he had + known them to have the will to silence him, without the power. He wouldn’t + have drunk from a glass of water under such circumstances—not even + in a respectable house like this, my Flintwinch—unless he had seen + one of them drink first, and swallow too!’ + </p> + <p> + Disdaining to speak, and indeed not very well able, for he was + half-choking, Clennam only glanced at the visitor as he passed out. The + visitor saluted him with another parting snap, and his nose came down over + his moustache and his moustache went up under his nose, in an ominous and + ugly smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘For Heaven’s sake, Affery,’ whispered Clennam, as she opened the door for + him in the dark hall, and he groped his way to the sight of the night-sky, + ‘what is going on here?’ + </p> + <p> + Her own appearance was sufficiently ghastly, standing in the dark with her + apron thrown over her head, and speaking behind it in a low, deadened + voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t ask me anything, Arthur. I’ve been in a dream for ever so long. Go + away!’ + </p> + <p> + He went out, and she shut the door upon him. He looked up at the windows + of his mother’s room, and the dim light, deadened by the yellow blinds, + seemed to say a response after Affery, and to mutter, ‘Don’t ask me + anything. Go away!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0047"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 11. A Letter from Little Dorrit + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ear Mr Clennam, + </p> + <p> + As I said in my last that it was best for nobody to write to me, and as my + sending you another little letter can therefore give you no other trouble + than the trouble of reading it (perhaps you may not find leisure for even + that, though I hope you will some day), I am now going to devote an hour + to writing to you again. This time, I write from Rome. + </p> + <p> + We left Venice before Mr and Mrs Gowan did, but they were not so long upon + the road as we were, and did not travel by the same way, and so when we + arrived we found them in a lodging here, in a place called the Via + Gregoriana. I dare say you know it. + </p> + <p> + Now I am going to tell you all I can about them, because I know that is + what you most want to hear. Theirs is not a very comfortable lodging, but + perhaps I thought it less so when I first saw it than you would have done, + because you have been in many different countries and have seen many + different customs. Of course it is a far, far better place—millions + of times—than any I have ever been used to until lately; and I fancy + I don’t look at it with my own eyes, but with hers. For it would be easy + to see that she has always been brought up in a tender and happy home, + even if she had not told me so with great love for it. + </p> + <p> + Well, it is a rather bare lodging up a rather dark common staircase, and + it is nearly all a large dull room, where Mr Gowan paints. The windows are + blocked up where any one could look out, and the walls have been all drawn + over with chalk and charcoal by others who have lived there before—oh,—I + should think, for years! There is a curtain more dust-coloured than red, + which divides it, and the part behind the curtain makes the private + sitting-room. When I first saw her there she was alone, and her work had + fallen out of her hand, and she was looking up at the sky shining through + the tops of the windows. Pray do not be uneasy when I tell you, but it was + not quite so airy, nor so bright, nor so cheerful, nor so happy and + youthful altogether as I should have liked it to be. + </p> + <p> + On account of Mr Gowan’s painting Papa’s picture (which I am not quite + convinced I should have known from the likeness if I had not seen him + doing it), I have had more opportunities of being with her since then than + I might have had without this fortunate chance. She is very much alone. + Very much alone indeed. + </p> + <p> + Shall I tell you about the second time I saw her? I went one day, when it + happened that I could run round by myself, at four or five o’clock in the + afternoon. She was then dining alone, and her solitary dinner had been + brought in from somewhere, over a kind of brazier with a fire in it, and + she had no company or prospect of company, that I could see, but the old + man who had brought it. He was telling her a long story (of robbers + outside the walls being taken up by a stone statue of a Saint), to + entertain her—as he said to me when I came out, ‘because he had a + daughter of his own, though she was not so pretty.’ + </p> + <p> + I ought now to mention Mr Gowan, before I say what little more I have to + say about her. He must admire her beauty, and he must be proud of her, for + everybody praises it, and he must be fond of her, and I do not doubt that + he is—but in his way. You know his way, and if it appears as + careless and discontented in your eyes as it does in mine, I am not wrong + in thinking that it might be better suited to her. If it does not seem so + to you, I am quite sure I am wholly mistaken; for your unchanged poor + child confides in your knowledge and goodness more than she could ever + tell you if she was to try. But don’t be frightened, I am not going to + try. + </p> + <p> + Owing (as I think, if you think so too) to Mr Gowan’s unsettled and + dissatisfied way, he applies himself to his profession very little. He + does nothing steadily or patiently; but equally takes things up and throws + them down, and does them, or leaves them undone, without caring about + them. When I have heard him talking to Papa during the sittings for the + picture, I have sat wondering whether it could be that he has no belief in + anybody else, because he has no belief in himself. Is it so? I wonder what + you will say when you come to this! I know how you will look, and I can + almost hear the voice in which you would tell me on the Iron Bridge. + </p> + <p> + Mr Gowan goes out a good deal among what is considered the best company + here—though he does not look as if he enjoyed it or liked it when he + is with it—and she sometimes accompanies him, but lately she has + gone out very little. I think I have noticed that they have an + inconsistent way of speaking about her, as if she had made some great + self-interested success in marrying Mr Gowan, though, at the same time, + the very same people, would not have dreamed of taking him for themselves + or their daughters. Then he goes into the country besides, to think about + making sketches; and in all places where there are visitors, he has a + large acquaintance and is very well known. Besides all this, he has a + friend who is much in his society both at home and away from home, though + he treats this friend very coolly and is very uncertain in his behaviour + to him. I am quite sure (because she has told me so), that she does not + like this friend. He is so revolting to me, too, that his being away from + here, at present, is quite a relief to my mind. How much more to hers! + </p> + <p> + But what I particularly want you to know, and why I have resolved to tell + you so much while I am afraid it may make you a little uncomfortable + without occasion, is this. She is so true and so devoted, and knows so + completely that all her love and duty are his for ever, that you may be + certain she will love him, admire him, praise him, and conceal all his + faults, until she dies. I believe she conceals them, and always will + conceal them, even from herself. She has given him a heart that can never + be taken back; and however much he may try it, he will never wear out its + affection. You know the truth of this, as you know everything, far far + better than I; but I cannot help telling you what a nature she shows, and + that you can never think too well of her. + </p> + <p> + I have not yet called her by her name in this letter, but we are such + friends now that I do so when we are quietly together, and she speaks to + me by my name—I mean, not my Christian name, but the name you gave + me. When she began to call me Amy, I told her my short story, and that you + had always called me Little Dorrit. I told her that the name was much + dearer to me than any other, and so she calls me Little Dorrit too. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you have not heard from her father or mother yet, and may not know + that she has a baby son. He was born only two days ago, and just a week + after they came. It has made them very happy. However, I must tell you, as + I am to tell you all, that I fancy they are under a constraint with Mr + Gowan, and that they feel as if his mocking way with them was sometimes a + slight given to their love for her. It was but yesterday, when I was + there, that I saw Mr Meagles change colour, and get up and go out, as if + he was afraid that he might say so, unless he prevented himself by that + means. Yet I am sure they are both so considerate, good-humoured, and + reasonable, that he might spare them. It is hard in him not to think of + them a little more. + </p> + <p> + I stopped at the last full stop to read all this over. It looked at first + as if I was taking on myself to understand and explain so much, that I was + half inclined not to send it. But when I thought it over a little, I felt + more hopeful for your knowing at once that I had only been watchful for + you, and had only noticed what I think I have noticed, because I was + quickened by your interest in it. Indeed, you may be sure that is the + truth. + </p> + <p> + And now I have done with the subject in the present letter, and have + little left to say. + </p> + <p> + We are all quite well, and Fanny improves every day. You can hardly think + how kind she is to me, and what pains she takes with me. She has a lover, + who has followed her, first all the way from Switzerland, and then all the + way from Venice, and who has just confided to me that he means to follow + her everywhere. I was much confused by his speaking to me about it, but he + would. I did not know what to say, but at last I told him that I thought + he had better not. For Fanny (but I did not tell him this) is much too + spirited and clever to suit him. Still, he said he would, all the same. I + have no lover, of course. + </p> + <p> + If you should ever get so far as this in this long letter, you will + perhaps say, Surely Little Dorrit will not leave off without telling me + something about her travels, and surely it is time she did. I think it is + indeed, but I don’t know what to tell you. Since we left Venice we have + been in a great many wonderful places, Genoa and Florence among them, and + have seen so many wonderful sights, that I am almost giddy when I think + what a crowd they make. But you can tell me so much more about them than I + can tell you, that why should I tire you with my accounts and + descriptions? + </p> + <p> + Dear Mr Clennam, as I had the courage to tell you what the familiar + difficulties in my travelling mind were before, I will not be a coward + now. One of my frequent thoughts is this:—Old as these cities are, + their age itself is hardly so curious, to my reflections, as that they + should have been in their places all through those days when I did not + even know of the existence of more than two or three of them, and when I + scarcely knew of anything outside our old walls. There is something + melancholy in it, and I don’t know why. When we went to see the famous + leaning tower at Pisa, it was a bright sunny day, and it and the buildings + near it looked so old, and the earth and the sky looked so young, and its + shadow on the ground was so soft and retired! I could not at first think + how beautiful it was, or how curious, but I thought, ‘O how many times + when the shadow of the wall was falling on our room, and when that weary + tread of feet was going up and down the yard—O how many times this + place was just as quiet and lovely as it is to-day!’ It quite overpowered + me. My heart was so full that tears burst out of my eyes, though I did + what I could to restrain them. And I have the same feeling often—often. + </p> + <p> + Do you know that since the change in our fortunes, though I appear to + myself to have dreamed more than before, I have always dreamed of myself + as very young indeed! I am not very old, you may say. No, but that is not + what I mean. I have always dreamed of myself as a child learning to do + needlework. I have often dreamed of myself as back there, seeing faces in + the yard little known, and which I should have thought I had quite + forgotten; but, as often as not, I have been abroad here—in + Switzerland, or France, or Italy—somewhere where we have been—yet + always as that little child. I have dreamed of going down to Mrs General, + with the patches on my clothes in which I can first remember myself. I + have over and over again dreamed of taking my place at dinner at Venice + when we have had a large company, in the mourning for my poor mother which + I wore when I was eight years old, and wore long after it was threadbare + and would mend no more. It has been a great distress to me to think how + irreconcilable the company would consider it with my father’s wealth, and + how I should displease and disgrace him and Fanny and Edward by so plainly + disclosing what they wished to keep secret. But I have not grown out of + the little child in thinking of it; and at the self-same moment I have + dreamed that I have sat with the heart-ache at table, calculating the + expenses of the dinner, and quite distracting myself with thinking how + they were ever to be made good. I have never dreamed of the change in our + fortunes itself; I have never dreamed of your coming back with me that + memorable morning to break it; I have never even dreamed of you. + </p> + <p> + Dear Mr Clennam, it is possible that I have thought of you—and + others—so much by day, that I have no thoughts left to wander round + you by night. For I must now confess to you that I suffer from + home-sickness—that I long so ardently and earnestly for home, as + sometimes, when no one sees me, to pine for it. I cannot bear to turn my + face further away from it. My heart is a little lightened when we turn + towards it, even for a few miles, and with the knowledge that we are soon + to turn away again. So dearly do I love the scene of my poverty and your + kindness. O so dearly, O so dearly! + </p> + <p> + Heaven knows when your poor child will see England again. We are all fond + of the life here (except me), and there are no plans for our return. My + dear father talks of a visit to London late in this next spring, on some + affairs connected with the property, but I have no hope that he will bring + me with him. + </p> + <p> + I have tried to get on a little better under Mrs General’s instruction, + and I hope I am not quite so dull as I used to be. I have begun to speak + and understand, almost easily, the hard languages I told you about. I did + not remember, at the moment when I wrote last, that you knew them both; + but I remembered it afterwards, and it helped me on. God bless you, dear + Mr Clennam. Do not forget + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Your ever grateful and affectionate + </p> + <h3> + <br> <br> <br> <br> LITTLE + DORRIT.= + </h3> + <p> + P.S.—Particularly remember that Minnie Gowan deserves the best + remembrance in which you can hold her. You cannot think too generously or + too highly of her. I forgot Mr Pancks last time. Please, if you should see + him, give him your Little Dorrit’s kind regard. He was very good to Little + D. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0048"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 12. In which a Great Patriotic Conference is holden + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he famous name of Merdle became, every day, more famous in the land. + Nobody knew that the Merdle of such high renown had ever done any good to + any one, alive or dead, or to any earthly thing; nobody knew that he had + any capacity or utterance of any sort in him, which had ever thrown, for + any creature, the feeblest farthing-candle ray of light on any path of + duty or diversion, pain or pleasure, toil or rest, fact or fancy, among + the multiplicity of paths in the labyrinth trodden by the sons of Adam; + nobody had the smallest reason for supposing the clay of which this object + of worship was made, to be other than the commonest clay, with as clogged + a wick smouldering inside of it as ever kept an image of humanity from + tumbling to pieces. All people knew (or thought they knew) that he had + made himself immensely rich; and, for that reason alone, prostrated + themselves before him, more degradedly and less excusably than the darkest + savage creeps out of his hole in the ground to propitiate, in some log or + reptile, the Deity of his benighted soul. + </p> + <p> + Nay, the high priests of this worship had the man before them as a protest + against their meanness. The multitude worshipped on trust—though + always distinctly knowing why—but the officiators at the altar had + the man habitually in their view. They sat at his feasts, and he sat at + theirs. There was a spectre always attendant on him, saying to these high + priests, ‘Are such the signs you trust, and love to honour; this head, + these eyes, this mode of speech, the tone and manner of this man? You are + the levers of the Circumlocution Office, and the rulers of men. When + half-a-dozen of you fall out by the ears, it seems that mother earth can + give birth to no other rulers. Does your qualification lie in the superior + knowledge of men which accepts, courts, and puffs this man? Or, if you are + competent to judge aright the signs I never fail to show you when he + appears among you, is your superior honesty your qualification?’ Two + rather ugly questions these, always going about town with Mr Merdle; and + there was a tacit agreement that they must be stifled. + </p> + <p> + In Mrs Merdle’s absence abroad, Mr Merdle still kept the great house open + for the passage through it of a stream Of visitors. A few of these took + affable possession of the establishment. Three or four ladies of + distinction and liveliness used to say to one another, ‘Let us dine at our + dear Merdle’s next Thursday. Whom shall we have?’ Our dear Merdle would + then receive his instructions; and would sit heavily among the company at + table and wander lumpishly about his drawing-rooms afterwards, only + remarkable for appearing to have nothing to do with the entertainment + beyond being in its way. + </p> + <p> + The Chief Butler, the Avenging Spirit of this great man’s life, relaxed + nothing of his severity. He looked on at these dinners when the bosom was + not there, as he looked on at other dinners when the bosom was there; and + his eye was a basilisk to Mr Merdle. He was a hard man, and would never + bate an ounce of plate or a bottle of wine. He would not allow a dinner to + be given, unless it was up to his mark. He set forth the table for his own + dignity. If the guests chose to partake of what was served, he saw no + objection; but it was served for the maintenance of his rank. As he stood + by the sideboard he seemed to announce, ‘I have accepted office to look at + this which is now before me, and to look at nothing less than this.’ If he + missed the presiding bosom, it was as a part of his own state of which he + was, from unavoidable circumstances, temporarily deprived, just as he + might have missed a centre-piece, or a choice wine-cooler, which had been + sent to the Banker’s. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle issued invitations for a Barnacle dinner. Lord Decimus was to be + there, Mr Tite Barnacle was to be there, the pleasant young Barnacle was + to be there; and the Chorus of Parliamentary Barnacles who went about the + provinces when the House was up, warbling the praises of their Chief, were + to be represented there. It was understood to be a great occasion. Mr + Merdle was going to take up the Barnacles. Some delicate little + negotiations had occurred between him and the noble Decimus—the + young Barnacle of engaging manners acting as negotiator—and Mr + Merdle had decided to cast the weight of his great probity and great + riches into the Barnacle scale. Jobbery was suspected by the malicious; + perhaps because it was indisputable that if the adherence of the immortal + Enemy of Mankind could have been secured by a job, the Barnacles would + have jobbed him—for the good of the country, for the good of the + country. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle had written to this magnificent spouse of hers, whom it was + heresy to regard as anything less than all the British Merchants since the + days of Whittington rolled into one, and gilded three feet deep all over—had + written to this spouse of hers, several letters from Rome, in quick + succession, urging upon him with importunity that now or never was the + time to provide for Edmund Sparkler. Mrs Merdle had shown him that the + case of Edmund was urgent, and that infinite advantages might result from + his having some good thing directly. In the grammar of Mrs Merdle’s verbs + on this momentous subject, there was only one mood, the Imperative; and + that Mood had only one Tense, the Present. Mrs Merdle’s verbs were so + pressingly presented to Mr Merdle to conjugate, that his sluggish blood + and his long coat-cuffs became quite agitated. + </p> + <p> + In which state of agitation, Mr Merdle, evasively rolling his eyes round + the Chief Butler’s shoes without raising them to the index of that + stupendous creature’s thoughts, had signified to him his intention of + giving a special dinner: not a very large dinner, but a very special + dinner. The Chief Butler had signified, in return, that he had no + objection to look on at the most expensive thing in that way that could be + done; and the day of the dinner was now come. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle stood in one of his drawing-rooms, with his back to the fire, + waiting for the arrival of his important guests. He seldom or never took + the liberty of standing with his back to the fire unless he was quite + alone. In the presence of the Chief Butler, he could not have done such a + deed. He would have clasped himself by the wrists in that constabulary + manner of his, and have paced up and down the hearthrug, or gone creeping + about among the rich objects of furniture, if his oppressive retainer had + appeared in the room at that very moment. The sly shadows which seemed to + dart out of hiding when the fire rose, and to dart back into it when the + fire fell, were sufficient witnesses of his making himself so easy. They + were even more than sufficient, if his uncomfortable glances at them might + be taken to mean anything. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle’s right hand was filled with the evening paper, and the evening + paper was full of Mr Merdle. His wonderful enterprise, his wonderful + wealth, his wonderful Bank, were the fattening food of the evening paper + that night. The wonderful Bank, of which he was the chief projector, + establisher, and manager, was the latest of the many Merdle wonders. So + modest was Mr Merdle withal, in the midst of these splendid achievements, + that he looked far more like a man in possession of his house under a + distraint, than a commercial Colossus bestriding his own hearthrug, while + the little ships were sailing into dinner. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0497m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0497m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0497.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Behold the vessels coming into port! The engaging young Barnacle was the + first arrival; but Bar overtook him on the staircase. Bar, strengthened as + usual with his double eye-glass and his little jury droop, was overjoyed + to see the engaging young Barnacle; and opined that we were going to sit + in Banco, as we lawyers called it, to take a special argument? + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed,’ said the sprightly young Barnacle, whose name was Ferdinand; + ‘how so?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay,’ smiled Bar. ‘If you don’t know, how can I know? You are in the + innermost sanctuary of the temple; I am one of the admiring concourse on + the plain without.’ + </p> + <p> + Bar could be light in hand, or heavy in hand, according to the customer he + had to deal with. With Ferdinand Barnacle he was gossamer. Bar was + likewise always modest and self-depreciatory—in his way. Bar was a + man of great variety; but one leading thread ran through the woof of all + his patterns. Every man with whom he had to do was in his eyes a jury-man; + and he must get that jury-man over, if he could. + </p> + <p> + ‘Our illustrious host and friend,’ said Bar; ‘our shining mercantile star;—going + into politics?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Going? He has been in Parliament some time, you know,’ returned the + engaging young Barnacle. + </p> + <p> + ‘True,’ said Bar, with his light-comedy laugh for special jury-men, which + was a very different thing from his low-comedy laugh for comic tradesmen + on common juries: ‘he has been in Parliament for some time. Yet hitherto + our star has been a vacillating and wavering star? Humph?’ + </p> + <p> + An average witness would have been seduced by the Humph? into an + affirmative answer, But Ferdinand Barnacle looked knowingly at Bar as he + strolled up-stairs, and gave him no answer at all. + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so, just so,’ said Bar, nodding his head, for he was not to be put + off in that way, ‘and therefore I spoke of our sitting <i>in Banco</i> to + take a special argument—meaning this to be a high and solemn + occasion, when, as Captain Macheath says, “the judges are met: a terrible + show!” We lawyers are sufficiently liberal, you see, to quote the Captain, + though the Captain is severe upon us. Nevertheless, I think I could put in + evidence an admission of the Captain’s,’ said Bar, with a little jocose + roll of his head; for, in his legal current of speech, he always assumed + the air of rallying himself with the best grace in the world; ‘an + admission of the Captain’s that Law, in the gross, is at least intended to + be impartial. For what says the Captain, if I quote him correctly—and + if not,’ with a light-comedy touch of his double eye-glass on his + companion’s shoulder, ‘my learned friend will set me right: + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + “Since laws were made for every degree, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + To curb vice in others as well as in me, + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + I wonder we ha’n’t better company + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Upon Tyburn Tree!”’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + These words brought them to the drawing-room, where Mr Merdle stood before + the fire. So immensely astounded was Mr Merdle by the entrance of Bar with + such a reference in his mouth, that Bar explained himself to have been + quoting Gay. ‘Assuredly not one of our Westminster Hall authorities,’ said + he, ‘but still no despicable one to a man possessing the largely-practical + Mr Merdle’s knowledge of the world.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle looked as if he thought he would say something, but subsequently + looked as if he thought he wouldn’t. The interval afforded time for Bishop + to be announced. + </p> + <p> + Bishop came in with meekness, and yet with a strong and rapid step as if + he wanted to get his seven-league dress-shoes on, and go round the world + to see that everybody was in a satisfactory state. Bishop had no idea that + there was anything significant in the occasion. That was the most + remarkable trait in his demeanour. He was crisp, fresh, cheerful, affable, + bland; but so surprisingly innocent. + </p> + <p> + Bar sidled up to prefer his politest inquiries in reference to the health + of Mrs Bishop. Mrs Bishop had been a little unfortunate in the article of + taking cold at a Confirmation, but otherwise was well. Young Mr Bishop was + also well. He was down, with his young wife and little family, at his Cure + of Souls. + </p> + <p> + The representatives of the Barnacle Chorus dropped in next, and Mr + Merdle’s physician dropped in next. Bar, who had a bit of one eye and a + bit of his double eye-glass for every one who came in at the door, no + matter with whom he was conversing or what he was talking about, got among + them all by some skilful means, without being seen to get at them, and + touched each individual gentleman of the jury on his own individual + favourite spot. With some of the Chorus, he laughed about the sleepy + member who had gone out into the lobby the other night, and voted the + wrong way: with others, he deplored that innovating spirit in the time + which could not even be prevented from taking an unnatural interest in the + public service and the public money: with the physician he had a word to + say about the general health; he had also a little information to ask him + for, concerning a professional man of unquestioned erudition and polished + manners—but those credentials in their highest development he + believed were the possession of other professors of the healing art (jury + droop)—whom he had happened to have in the witness-box the day + before yesterday, and from whom he had elicited in cross-examination that + he claimed to be one of the exponents of this new mode of treatment which + appeared to Bar to—eh?—well, Bar thought so; Bar had thought, + and hoped, Physician would tell him so. Without presuming to decide where + doctors disagreed, it did appear to Bar, viewing it as a question of + common sense and not of so-called legal penetration, that this new system + was—might be, in the presence of so great an authority—say, + Humbug? Ah! Fortified by such encouragement, he could venture to say + Humbug; and now Bar’s mind was relieved. + </p> + <p> + Mr Tite Barnacle, who, like Dr Johnson’s celebrated acquaintance, had only + one idea in his head and that was a wrong one, had appeared by this time. + This eminent gentleman and Mr Merdle, seated diverse ways and with + ruminating aspects on a yellow ottoman in the light of the fire, holding + no verbal communication with each other, bore a strong general resemblance + to the two cows in the Cuyp picture over against them. + </p> + <p> + But now, Lord Decimus arrived. The Chief Butler, who up to this time had + limited himself to a branch of his usual function by looking at the + company as they entered (and that, with more of defiance than favour), put + himself so far out of his way as to come up-stairs with him and announce + him. Lord Decimus being an overpowering peer, a bashful young member of + the Lower House who was the last fish but one caught by the Barnacles, and + who had been invited on this occasion to commemorate his capture, shut his + eyes when his Lordship came in. + </p> + <p> + Lord Decimus, nevertheless, was glad to see the Member. He was also glad + to see Mr Merdle, glad to see Bishop, glad to see Bar, glad to see + Physician, glad to see Tite Barnacle, glad to see Chorus, glad to see + Ferdinand his private secretary. Lord Decimus, though one of the greatest + of the earth, was not remarkable for ingratiatory manners, and Ferdinand + had coached him up to the point of noticing all the fellows he might find + there, and saying he was glad to see them. When he had achieved this rush + of vivacity and condescension, his Lordship composed himself into the + picture after Cuyp, and made a third cow in the group. + </p> + <p> + Bar, who felt that he had got all the rest of the jury and must now lay + hold of the Foreman, soon came sidling up, double eye-glass in hand. Bar + tendered the weather, as a subject neatly aloof from official reserve, for + the Foreman’s consideration. Bar said that he was told (as everybody + always is told, though who tells them, and why, will ever remain a + mystery), that there was to be no wall-fruit this year. Lord Decimus had + not heard anything amiss of his peaches, but rather believed, if his + people were correct, he was to have no apples. No apples? Bar was lost in + astonishment and concern. It would have been all one to him, in reality, + if there had not been a pippin on the surface of the earth, but his show + of interest in this apple question was positively painful. Now, to what, + Lord Decimus—for we troublesome lawyers loved to gather information, + and could never tell how useful it might prove to us—to what, Lord + Decimus, was this to be attributed? Lord Decimus could not undertake to + propound any theory about it. This might have stopped another man; but + Bar, sticking to him fresh as ever, said, ‘As to pears, now?’ + </p> + <p> + Long after Bar got made Attorney-General, this was told of him as a + master-stroke. Lord Decimus had a reminiscence about a pear-tree formerly + growing in a garden near the back of his dame’s house at Eton, upon which + pear-tree the only joke of his life perennially bloomed. It was a joke of + a compact and portable nature, turning on the difference between Eton + pears and Parliamentary pairs; but it was a joke, a refined relish of + which would seem to have appeared to Lord Decimus impossible to be had + without a thorough and intimate acquaintance with the tree. Therefore, the + story at first had no idea of such a tree, sir, then gradually found it in + winter, carried it through the changing season, saw it bud, saw it + blossom, saw it bear fruit, saw the fruit ripen; in short, cultivated the + tree in that diligent and minute manner before it got out of the bed-room + window to steal the fruit, that many thanks had been offered up by belated + listeners for the trees having been planted and grafted prior to Lord + Decimus’s time. Bar’s interest in apples was so overtopped by the wrapt + suspense in which he pursued the changes of these pears, from the moment + when Lord Decimus solemnly opened with ‘Your mentioning pears recalls to + my remembrance a pear-tree,’ down to the rich conclusion, ‘And so we pass, + through the various changes of life, from Eton pears to Parliamentary + pairs,’ that he had to go down-stairs with Lord Decimus, and even then to + be seated next to him at table in order that he might hear the anecdote + out. By that time, Bar felt that he had secured the Foreman, and might go + to dinner with a good appetite. + </p> + <p> + It was a dinner to provoke an appetite, though he had not had one. The + rarest dishes, sumptuously cooked and sumptuously served; the choicest + fruits; the most exquisite wines; marvels of workmanship in gold and + silver, china and glass; innumerable things delicious to the senses of + taste, smell, and sight, were insinuated into its composition. O, what a + wonderful man this Merdle, what a great man, what a master man, how + blessedly and enviably endowed—in one word, what a rich man! + </p> + <p> + He took his usual poor eighteenpennyworth of food in his usual indigestive + way, and had as little to say for himself as ever a wonderful man had. + Fortunately Lord Decimus was one of those sublimities who have no occasion + to be talked to, for they can be at any time sufficiently occupied with + the contemplation of their own greatness. This enabled the bashful young + Member to keep his eyes open long enough at a time to see his dinner. But, + whenever Lord Decimus spoke, he shut them again. + </p> + <p> + The agreeable young Barnacle, and Bar, were the talkers of the party. + Bishop would have been exceedingly agreeable also, but that his innocence + stood in his way. He was so soon left behind. When there was any little + hint of anything being in the wind, he got lost directly. Worldly affairs + were too much for him; he couldn’t make them out at all. + </p> + <p> + This was observable when Bar said, incidentally, that he was happy to have + heard that we were soon to have the advantage of enlisting on the good + side, the sound and plain sagacity—not demonstrative or + ostentatious, but thoroughly sound and practical—of our friend Mr + Sparkler. + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand Barnacle laughed, and said oh yes, he believed so. A vote was a + vote, and always acceptable. + </p> + <p> + Bar was sorry to miss our good friend Mr Sparkler to-day, Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is away with Mrs Merdle,’ returned that gentleman, slowly coming out + of a long abstraction, in the course of which he had been fitting a + tablespoon up his sleeve. ‘It is not indispensable for him to be on the + spot.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The magic name of Merdle,’ said Bar, with the jury droop, ‘no doubt will + suffice for all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why—yes—I believe so,’ assented Mr Merdle, putting the spoon + aside, and clumsily hiding each of his hands in the coat-cuff of the other + hand. ‘I believe the people in my interest down there will not make any + difficulty.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Model people!’ said Bar. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad you approve of them,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘And the people of those other two places, now,’ pursued Bar, with a + bright twinkle in his keen eye, as it slightly turned in the direction of + his magnificent neighbour; ‘we lawyers are always curious, always + inquisitive, always picking up odds and ends for our patchwork minds, + since there is no knowing when and where they may fit into some corner;—the + people of those other two places now? Do they yield so laudably to the + vast and cumulative influence of such enterprise and such renown; do those + little rills become absorbed so quietly and easily, and, as it were by the + influence of natural laws, so beautifully, in the swoop of the majestic + stream as it flows upon its wondrous way enriching the surrounding lands; + that their course is perfectly to be calculated, and distinctly to be + predicated?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle, a little troubled by Bar’s eloquence, looked fitfully about the + nearest salt-cellar for some moments, and then said hesitating: + </p> + <p> + ‘They are perfectly aware, sir, of their duty to Society. They will return + anybody I send to them for that purpose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cheering to know,’ said Bar. ‘Cheering to know.’ + </p> + <p> + The three places in question were three little rotten holes in this + Island, containing three little ignorant, drunken, guzzling, dirty, + out-of-the-way constituencies, that had reeled into Mr Merdle’s pocket. + Ferdinand Barnacle laughed in his easy way, and airily said they were a + nice set of fellows. Bishop, mentally perambulating among paths of peace, + was altogether swallowed up in absence of mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray,’ asked Lord Decimus, casting his eyes around the table, ‘what is + this story I have heard of a gentleman long confined in a debtors’ prison + proving to be of a wealthy family, and having come into the inheritance of + a large sum of money? I have met with a variety of allusions to it. Do you + know anything of it, Ferdinand?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I only know this much,’ said Ferdinand, ‘that he has given the Department + with which I have the honour to be associated;’ this sparkling young + Barnacle threw off the phrase sportively, as who should say, We know all + about these forms of speech, but we must keep it up, we must keep the game + alive; ‘no end of trouble, and has put us into innumerable fixes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fixes?’ repeated Lord Decimus, with a majestic pausing and pondering on + the word that made the bashful Member shut his eyes quite tight. ‘Fixes?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A very perplexing business indeed,’ observed Mr Tite Barnacle, with an + air of grave resentment. + </p> + <p> + ‘What,’ said Lord Decimus, ‘was the character of his business; what was + the nature of these—a—Fixes, Ferdinand?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, it’s a good story, as a story,’ returned that gentleman; ‘as good a + thing of its kind as need be. This Mr Dorrit (his name is Dorrit) had + incurred a responsibility to us, ages before the fairy came out of the + Bank and gave him his fortune, under a bond he had signed for the + performance of a contract which was not at all performed. He was a partner + in a house in some large way—spirits, or buttons, or wine, or + blacking, or oatmeal, or woollen, or pork, or hooks and eyes, or iron, or + treacle, or shoes, or something or other that was wanted for troops, or + seamen, or somebody—and the house burst, and we being among the + creditors, detainees were lodged on the part of the Crown in a scientific + manner, and all the rest of it. When the fairy had appeared and he wanted + to pay us off, Egad we had got into such an exemplary state of checking + and counter-checking, signing and counter-signing, that it was six months + before we knew how to take the money, or how to give a receipt for it. It + was a triumph of public business,’ said this handsome young Barnacle, + laughing heartily, ‘You never saw such a lot of forms in your life. “Why,” + the attorney said to me one day, “if I wanted this office to give me two + or three thousand pounds instead of take it, I couldn’t have more trouble + about it.” “You are right, old fellow,” I told him, “and in future you’ll + know that we have something to do here.”’ The pleasant young Barnacle + finished by once more laughing heartily. He was a very easy, pleasant + fellow indeed, and his manners were exceedingly winning. + </p> + <p> + Mr Tite Barnacle’s view of the business was of a less airy character. He + took it ill that Mr Dorrit had troubled the Department by wanting to pay + the money, and considered it a grossly informal thing to do after so many + years. But Mr Tite Barnacle was a buttoned-up man, and consequently a + weighty one. All buttoned-up men are weighty. All buttoned-up men are + believed in. Whether or no the reserved and never-exercised power of + unbuttoning, fascinates mankind; whether or no wisdom is supposed to + condense and augment when buttoned up, and to evaporate when unbuttoned; + it is certain that the man to whom importance is accorded is the + buttoned-up man. Mr Tite Barnacle never would have passed for half his + current value, unless his coat had been always buttoned-up to his white + cravat. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask,’ said Lord Decimus, ‘if Mr Darrit—or Dorrit—has + any family?’ + </p> + <p> + Nobody else replying, the host said, ‘He has two daughters, my lord.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! you are acquainted with him?’ asked Lord Decimus. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle is. Mr Sparkler is, too. In fact,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I rather + believe that one of the young ladies has made an impression on Edmund + Sparkler. He is susceptible, and—I—think—the conquest—’ + Here Mr Merdle stopped, and looked at the table-cloth, as he usually did + when he found himself observed or listened to. + </p> + <p> + Bar was uncommonly pleased to find that the Merdle family, and this + family, had already been brought into contact. He submitted, in a low + voice across the table to Bishop, that it was a kind of analogical + illustration of those physical laws, in virtue of which Like flies to + Like. He regarded this power of attraction in wealth to draw wealth to it, + as something remarkably interesting and curious—something + indefinably allied to the loadstone and gravitation. Bishop, who had + ambled back to earth again when the present theme was broached, + acquiesced. He said it was indeed highly important to Society that one in + the trying situation of unexpectedly finding himself invested with a power + for good or for evil in Society, should become, as it were, merged in the + superior power of a more legitimate and more gigantic growth, the + influence of which (as in the case of our friend at whose board we sat) + was habitually exercised in harmony with the best interests of Society. + Thus, instead of two rival and contending flames, a larger and a lesser, + each burning with a lurid and uncertain glare, we had a blended and a + softened light whose genial ray diffused an equable warmth throughout the + land. Bishop seemed to like his own way of putting the case very much, and + rather dwelt upon it; Bar, meanwhile (not to throw away a jury-man), + making a show of sitting at his feet and feeding on his precepts. + </p> + <p> + The dinner and dessert being three hours long, the bashful Member cooled + in the shadow of Lord Decimus faster than he warmed with food and drink, + and had but a chilly time of it. Lord Decimus, like a tall tower in a flat + country, seemed to project himself across the table-cloth, hide the light + from the honourable Member, cool the honourable Member’s marrow, and give + him a woeful idea of distance. When he asked this unfortunate traveller to + take wine, he encompassed his faltering steps with the gloomiest of + shades; and when he said, ‘Your health sir!’ all around him was barrenness + and desolation. + </p> + <p> + At length Lord Decimus, with a coffee-cup in his hand, began to hover + about among the pictures, and to cause an interesting speculation to arise + in all minds as to the probabilities of his ceasing to hover, and enabling + the smaller birds to flutter up-stairs; which could not be done until he + had urged his noble pinions in that direction. After some delay, and + several stretches of his wings which came to nothing, he soared to the + drawing-rooms. + </p> + <p> + And here a difficulty arose, which always does arise when two people are + specially brought together at a dinner to confer with one another. + Everybody (except Bishop, who had no suspicion of it) knew perfectly well + that this dinner had been eaten and drunk, specifically to the end that + Lord Decimus and Mr Merdle should have five minutes’ conversation + together. The opportunity so elaborately prepared was now arrived, and it + seemed from that moment that no mere human ingenuity could so much as get + the two chieftains into the same room. Mr Merdle and his noble guest + persisted in prowling about at opposite ends of the perspective. It was in + vain for the engaging Ferdinand to bring Lord Decimus to look at the + bronze horses near Mr Merdle. Then Mr Merdle evaded, and wandered away. It + was in vain for him to bring Mr Merdle to Lord Decimus to tell him the + history of the unique Dresden vases. Then Lord Decimus evaded and wandered + away, while he was getting his man up to the mark. + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you ever see such a thing as this?’ said Ferdinand to Bar when he had + been baffled twenty times. + </p> + <p> + ‘Often,’ returned Bar. + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless I butt one of them into an appointed corner, and you butt the + other,’ said Ferdinand, ‘it will not come off after all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very good,’ said Bar. ‘I’ll butt Merdle, if you like; but not my lord.’ + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand laughed, in the midst of his vexation. ‘Confound them both!’ + said he, looking at his watch. ‘I want to get away. Why the deuce can’t + they come together! They both know what they want and mean to do. Look at + them!’ + </p> + <p> + They were still looming at opposite ends of the perspective, each with an + absurd pretence of not having the other on his mind, which could not have + been more transparently ridiculous though his real mind had been chalked + on his back. Bishop, who had just now made a third with Bar and Ferdinand, + but whose innocence had again cut him out of the subject and washed him in + sweet oil, was seen to approach Lord Decimus and glide into conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must get Merdle’s doctor to catch and secure him, I suppose,’ said + Ferdinand; ‘and then I must lay hold of my illustrious kinsman, and decoy + him if I can—drag him if I can’t—to the conference.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Since you do me the honour,’ said Bar, with his slyest smile, to ask for + my poor aid, it shall be yours with the greatest pleasure. I don’t think + this is to be done by one man. But if you will undertake to pen my lord + into that furthest drawing-room where he is now so profoundly engaged, I + will undertake to bring our dear Merdle into the presence, without the + possibility of getting away.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Done!’ said Ferdinand. ‘Done!’ said Bar. + </p> + <p> + Bar was a sight wondrous to behold, and full of matter, when, jauntily + waving his double eye-glass by its ribbon, and jauntily drooping to an + Universe of Jurymen, he, in the most accidental manner ever seen, found + himself at Mr Merdle’s shoulder, and embraced that opportunity of + mentioning a little point to him, on which he particularly wished to be + guided by the light of his practical knowledge. (Here he took Mr Merdle’s + arm and walked him gently away.) A banker, whom we would call A. B., + advanced a considerable sum of money, which we would call fifteen thousand + pounds, to a client or customer of his, whom he would call P. Q. (Here, as + they were getting towards Lord Decimus, he held Mr Merdle tight.) As a + security for the repayment of this advance to P. Q. whom we would call a + widow lady, there were placed in A. B.‘s hands the title-deeds of a + freehold estate, which we would call Blinkiter Doddles. Now, the point was + this. A limited right of felling and lopping in the woods of Blinkiter + Doddles, lay in the son of P. Q. then past his majority, and whom we would + call X. Y.—but really this was too bad! In the presence of Lord + Decimus, to detain the host with chopping our dry chaff of law, was really + too bad! Another time! Bar was truly repentant, and would not say another + syllable. Would Bishop favour him with half-a-dozen words? (He had now set + Mr Merdle down on a couch, side by side with Lord Decimus, and to it they + must go, now or never.) + </p> + <p> + And now the rest of the company, highly excited and interested, always + excepting Bishop, who had not the slightest idea that anything was going + on, formed in one group round the fire in the next drawing-room, and + pretended to be chatting easily on the infinite variety of small topics, + while everybody’s thoughts and eyes were secretly straying towards the + secluded pair. The Chorus were excessively nervous, perhaps as labouring + under the dreadful apprehension that some good thing was going to be + diverted from them! Bishop alone talked steadily and evenly. He conversed + with the great Physician on that relaxation of the throat with which young + curates were too frequently afflicted, and on the means of lessening the + great prevalence of that disorder in the church. Physician, as a general + rule, was of opinion that the best way to avoid it was to know how to + read, before you made a profession of reading. Bishop said dubiously, did + he really think so? And Physician said, decidedly, yes he did. + </p> + <p> + Ferdinand, meanwhile, was the only one of the party who skirmished on the + outside of the circle; he kept about mid-way between it and the two, as if + some sort of surgical operation were being performed by Lord Decimus on Mr + Merdle, or by Mr Merdle on Lord Decimus, and his services might at any + moment be required as Dresser. In fact, within a quarter of an hour Lord + Decimus called to him ‘Ferdinand!’ and he went, and took his place in the + conference for some five minutes more. Then a half-suppressed gasp broke + out among the Chorus; for Lord Decimus rose to take his leave. Again + coached up by Ferdinand to the point of making himself popular, he shook + hands in the most brilliant manner with the whole company, and even said + to Bar, ‘I hope you were not bored by my pears?’ To which Bar retorted, + ‘Eton, my lord, or Parliamentary?’ neatly showing that he had mastered the + joke, and delicately insinuating that he could never forget it while his + life remained. + </p> + <p> + All the grave importance that was buttoned up in Mr Tite Barnacle, took + itself away next; and Ferdinand took himself away next, to the opera. Some + of the rest lingered a little, marrying golden liqueur glasses to Buhl + tables with sticky rings; on the desperate chance of Mr Merdle’s saying + something. But Merdle, as usual, oozed sluggishly and muddily about his + drawing-room, saying never a word. + </p> + <p> + In a day or two it was announced to all the town, that Edmund Sparkler, + Esquire, son-in-law of the eminent Mr Merdle of worldwide renown, was made + one of the Lords of the Circumlocution Office; and proclamation was + issued, to all true believers, that this admirable appointment was to be + hailed as a graceful and gracious mark of homage, rendered by the graceful + and gracious Decimus, to that commercial interest which must ever in a + great commercial country—and all the rest of it, with blast of + trumpet. So, bolstered by this mark of Government homage, the wonderful + Bank and all the other wonderful undertakings went on and went up; and + gapers came to Harley Street, Cavendish Square, only to look at the house + where the golden wonder lived. + </p> + <p> + And when they saw the Chief Butler looking out at the hall-door in his + moments of condescension, the gapers said how rich he looked, and wondered + how much money he had in the wonderful Bank. But, if they had known that + respectable Nemesis better, they would not have wondered about it, and + might have stated the amount with the utmost precision. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0049"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 13. The Progress of an Epidemic + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat it is at least as difficult to stay a moral infection as a physical + one; that such a disease will spread with the malignity and rapidity of + the Plague; that the contagion, when it has once made head, will spare no + pursuit or condition, but will lay hold on people in the soundest health, + and become developed in the most unlikely constitutions: is a fact as + firmly established by experience as that we human creatures breathe an + atmosphere. A blessing beyond appreciation would be conferred upon + mankind, if the tainted, in whose weakness or wickedness these virulent + disorders are bred, could be instantly seized and placed in close + confinement (not to say summarily smothered) before the poison is + communicable. + </p> + <p> + As a vast fire will fill the air to a great distance with its roar, so the + sacred flame which the mighty Barnacles had fanned caused the air to + resound more and more with the name of Merdle. It was deposited on every + lip, and carried into every ear. There never was, there never had been, + there never again should be, such a man as Mr Merdle. Nobody, as + aforesaid, knew what he had done; but everybody knew him to be the + greatest that had appeared. + </p> + <p> + Down in Bleeding Heart Yard, where there was not one unappropriated + halfpenny, as lively an interest was taken in this paragon of men as on + the Stock Exchange. Mrs Plornish, now established in the small grocery and + general trade in a snug little shop at the crack end of the Yard, at the + top of the steps, with her little old father and Maggy acting as + assistants, habitually held forth about him over the counter in + conversation with her customers. Mr Plornish, who had a small share in a + small builder’s business in the neighbourhood, said, trowel in hand, on + the tops of scaffolds and on the tiles of houses, that people did tell him + as Mr Merdle was <i>the</i> one, mind you, to put us all to rights in + respects of that which all on us looked to, and to bring us all safe home + as much as we needed, mind you, fur toe be brought. Mr Baptist, sole + lodger of Mr and Mrs Plornish was reputed in whispers to lay by the + savings which were the result of his simple and moderate life, for + investment in one of Mr Merdle’s certain enterprises. The female Bleeding + Hearts, when they came for ounces of tea, and hundredweights of talk, gave + Mrs Plornish to understand, That how, ma’am, they had heard from their + cousin Mary Anne, which worked in the line, that his lady’s dresses would + fill three waggons. That how she was as handsome a lady, ma’am, as lived, + no matter wheres, and a busk like marble itself. That how, according to + what they was told, ma’am, it was her son by a former husband as was took + into the Government; and a General he had been, and armies he had marched + again and victory crowned, if all you heard was to be believed. That how + it was reported that Mr Merdle’s words had been, that if they could have + made it worth his while to take the whole Government he would have took it + without a profit, but that take it he could not and stand a loss. That how + it was not to be expected, ma’am, that he should lose by it, his ways + being, as you might say and utter no falsehood, paved with gold; but that + how it was much to be regretted that something handsome hadn’t been got up + to make it worth his while; for it was such and only such that knowed the + heighth to which the bread and butchers’ meat had rose, and it was such + and only such that both could and would bring that heighth down. + </p> + <p> + So rife and potent was the fever in Bleeding Heart Yard, that Mr Pancks’s + rent-days caused no interval in the patients. The disease took the + singular form, on those occasions, of causing the infected to find an + unfathomable excuse and consolation in allusions to the magic name. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, then!’ Mr Pancks would say, to a defaulting lodger. ‘Pay up! Come + on!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I haven’t got it, Mr Pancks,’ Defaulter would reply. ‘I tell you the + truth, sir, when I say I haven’t got so much as a single sixpence of it to + bless myself with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This won’t do, you know,’ Mr Pancks would retort. ‘You don’t expect it <i>will</i> + do; do you?’ + </p> + <p> + Defaulter would admit, with a low-spirited ‘No, sir,’ having no such + expectation. + </p> + <p> + ‘My proprietor isn’t going to stand this, you know,’ Mr Pancks would + proceed. ‘He don’t send me here for this. Pay up! Come!’ + </p> + <p> + The Defaulter would make answer, ‘Ah, Mr Pancks. If I was the rich + gentleman whose name is in everybody’s mouth—if my name was Merdle, + sir—I’d soon pay up, and be glad to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Dialogues on the rent-question usually took place at the house-doors or in + the entries, and in the presence of several deeply interested Bleeding + Hearts. They always received a reference of this kind with a low murmur of + response, as if it were convincing; and the Defaulter, however black and + discomfited before, always cheered up a little in making it. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I was Mr Merdle, sir, you wouldn’t have cause to complain of me then. + No, believe me!’ the Defaulter would proceed with a shake of the head. + ‘I’d pay up so quick then, Mr Pancks, that you shouldn’t have to ask me.’ + </p> + <p> + The response would be heard again here, implying that it was impossible to + say anything fairer, and that this was the next thing to paying the money + down. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks would be now reduced to saying as he booked the case, ‘Well! + You’ll have the broker in, and be turned out; that’s what’ll happen to + you. It’s no use talking to me about Mr Merdle. You are not Mr Merdle, any + more than I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir,’ the Defaulter would reply. ‘I only wish you <i>were</i> him, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + The response would take this up quickly; replying with great feeling, + ‘Only wish you <i>were</i> him, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’d be easier with us if you were Mr Merdle, sir,’ the Defaulter would + go on with rising spirits, ‘and it would be better for all parties. Better + for our sakes, and better for yours, too. You wouldn’t have to worry no + one, then, sir. You wouldn’t have to worry us, and you wouldn’t have to + worry yourself. You’d be easier in your own mind, sir, and you’d leave + others easier, too, you would, if you were Mr Merdle.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks, in whom these impersonal compliments produced an irresistible + sheepishness, never rallied after such a charge. He could only bite his + nails and puff away to the next Defaulter. The responsive Bleeding Hearts + would then gather round the Defaulter whom he had just abandoned, and the + most extravagant rumours would circulate among them, to their great + comfort, touching the amount of Mr Merdle’s ready money. + </p> + <p> + From one of the many such defeats of one of many rent-days, Mr Pancks, + having finished his day’s collection, repaired with his note-book under + his arm to Mrs Plornish’s corner. Mr Pancks’s object was not professional, + but social. He had had a trying day, and wanted a little brightening. By + this time he was on friendly terms with the Plornish family, having often + looked in upon them at similar seasons, and borne his part in + recollections of Miss Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Plornish’s shop-parlour had been decorated under her own eye, and + presented, on the side towards the shop, a little fiction in which Mrs + Plornish unspeakably rejoiced. This poetical heightening of the parlour + consisted in the wall being painted to represent the exterior of a + thatched cottage; the artist having introduced (in as effective a manner + as he found compatible with their highly disproportionate dimensions) the + real door and window. The modest sunflower and hollyhock were depicted as + flourishing with great luxuriance on this rustic dwelling, while a + quantity of dense smoke issuing from the chimney indicated good cheer + within, and also, perhaps, that it had not been lately swept. A faithful + dog was represented as flying at the legs of the friendly visitor, from + the threshold; and a circular pigeon-house, enveloped in a cloud of + pigeons, arose from behind the garden-paling. On the door (when it was + shut), appeared the semblance of a brass-plate, presenting the + inscription, Happy Cottage, T. and M. Plornish; the partnership expressing + man and wife. No Poetry and no Art ever charmed the imagination more than + the union of the two in this counterfeit cottage charmed Mrs Plornish. It + was nothing to her that Plornish had a habit of leaning against it as he + smoked his pipe after work, when his hat blotted out the pigeon-house and + all the pigeons, when his back swallowed up the dwelling, when his hands + in his pockets uprooted the blooming garden and laid waste the adjacent + country. To Mrs Plornish, it was still a most beautiful cottage, a most + wonderful deception; and it made no difference that Mr Plornish’s eye was + some inches above the level of the gable bed-room in the thatch. To come + out into the shop after it was shut, and hear her father sing a song + inside this cottage, was a perfect Pastoral to Mrs Plornish, the Golden + Age revived. And truly if that famous period had been revived, or had ever + been at all, it may be doubted whether it would have produced many more + heartily admiring daughters than the poor woman. + </p> + <p> + Warned of a visitor by the tinkling bell at the shop-door, Mrs Plornish + came out of Happy Cottage to see who it might be. ‘I guessed it was you, + Mr Pancks,’ said she, ‘for it’s quite your regular night; ain’t it? Here’s + father, you see, come out to serve at the sound of the bell, like a brisk + young shopman. Ain’t he looking well? Father’s more pleased to see you + than if you was a customer, for he dearly loves a gossip; and when it + turns upon Miss Dorrit, he loves it all the more. You never heard father + in such voice as he is at present,’ said Mrs Plornish, her own voice + quavering, she was so proud and pleased. ‘He gave us Strephon last night + to that degree that Plornish gets up and makes him this speech across the + table. “John Edward Nandy,” says Plornish to father, “I never heard you + come the warbles as I have heard you come the warbles this night.” An’t it + gratifying, Mr Pancks, though; really?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks, who had snorted at the old man in his friendliest manner, + replied in the affirmative, and casually asked whether that lively Altro + chap had come in yet? Mrs Plornish answered no, not yet, though he had + gone to the West-End with some work, and had said he should be back by + tea-time. Mr Pancks was then hospitably pressed into Happy Cottage, where + he encountered the elder Master Plornish just come home from school. + Examining that young student, lightly, on the educational proceedings of + the day, he found that the more advanced pupils who were in the large text + and the letter M, had been set the copy ‘Merdle, Millions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And how are <i>you</i> getting on, Mrs Plornish,’ said Pancks, ‘since + we’re mentioning millions?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very steady, indeed, sir,’ returned Mrs Plornish. ‘Father, dear, would + you go into the shop and tidy the window a little bit before tea, your + taste being so beautiful?’ + </p> + <p> + John Edward Nandy trotted away, much gratified, to comply with his + daughter’s request. Mrs Plornish, who was always in mortal terror of + mentioning pecuniary affairs before the old gentleman, lest any disclosure + she made might rouse his spirit and induce him to run away to the + workhouse, was thus left free to be confidential with Mr Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s quite true that the business is very steady indeed,’ said Mrs + Plornish, lowering her voice; ‘and has a excellent connection. The only + thing that stands in its way, sir, is the Credit.’ + </p> + <p> + This drawback, rather severely felt by most people who engaged in + commercial transactions with the inhabitants of Bleeding Heart Yard, was a + large stumbling-block in Mrs Plornish’s trade. When Mr Dorrit had + established her in the business, the Bleeding Hearts had shown an amount + of emotion and a determination to support her in it, that did honour to + human nature. Recognising her claim upon their generous feelings as one + who had long been a member of their community, they pledged themselves, + with great feeling, to deal with Mrs Plornish, come what would and bestow + their patronage on no other establishment. Influenced by these noble + sentiments, they had even gone out of their way to purchase little + luxuries in the grocery and butter line to which they were unaccustomed; + saying to one another, that if they did stretch a point, was it not for a + neighbour and a friend, and for whom ought a point to be stretched if not + for such? So stimulated, the business was extremely brisk, and the + articles in stock went off with the greatest celerity. In short, if the + </p> + <p> + Bleeding Hearts had but paid, the undertaking would have been a complete + success; whereas, by reason of their exclusively confining themselves to + owing, the profits actually realised had not yet begun to appear in the + books. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0512m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0512m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0512.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Mr Pancks was making a very porcupine of himself by sticking his hair up + in the contemplation of this state of accounts, when old Mr Nandy, + re-entering the cottage with an air of mystery, entreated them to come and + look at the strange behaviour of Mr Baptist, who seemed to have met with + something that had scared him. All three going into the shop, and watching + through the window, then saw Mr Baptist, pale and agitated, go through the + following extraordinary performances. First, he was observed hiding at the + top of the steps leading down into the Yard, and peeping up and down the + street with his head cautiously thrust out close to the side of the + shop-door. After very anxious scrutiny, he came out of his retreat, and + went briskly down the street as if he were going away altogether; then, + suddenly turned about, and went, at the same pace, and with the same + feint, up the street. He had gone no further up the street than he had + gone down, when he crossed the road and disappeared. The object of this + last manoeuvre was only apparent, when his entering the shop with a sudden + twist, from the steps again, explained that he had made a wide and obscure + circuit round to the other, or Doyce and Clennam, end of the Yard, and had + come through the Yard and bolted in. He was out of breath by that time, as + he might well be, and his heart seemed to jerk faster than the little + shop-bell, as it quivered and jingled behind him with his hasty shutting + of the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hallo, old chap!’ said Mr Pancks. ‘Altro, old boy! What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Baptist, or Signor Cavalletto, understood English now almost as well as + Mr Pancks himself, and could speak it very well too. Nevertheless, Mrs + Plornish, with a pardonable vanity in that accomplishment of hers which + made her all but Italian, stepped in as interpreter. + </p> + <p> + ‘E ask know,’ said Mrs Plornish, ‘what go wrong?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Come into the happy little cottage, Padrona,’ returned Mr Baptist, + imparting great stealthiness to his flurried back-handed shake of his + right forefinger. ‘Come there!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Plornish was proud of the title Padrona, which she regarded as + signifying: not so much Mistress of the house, as Mistress of the Italian + tongue. She immediately complied with Mr Baptist’s request, and they all + went into the cottage. + </p> + <p> + ‘E ope you no fright,’ said Mrs Plornish then, interpreting Mr Pancks in a + new way with her usual fertility of resource. ‘What appen? Peaka Padrona!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have seen some one,’ returned Baptist. ‘I have rincontrato him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Im? Oo him?’ asked Mrs Plornish. + </p> + <p> + ‘A bad man. A baddest man. I have hoped that I should never see him + again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ow you know him bad?’ asked Mrs Plornish. + </p> + <p> + ‘It does not matter, Padrona. I know it too well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘E see you?’ asked Mrs Plornish. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. I hope not. I believe not.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He says,’ Mrs Plornish then interpreted, addressing her father and Pancks + with mild condescension, ‘that he has met a bad man, but he hopes the bad + man didn’t see him—Why,’ inquired Mrs Plornish, reverting to the + Italian language, ‘why ope bad man no see?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Padrona, dearest,’ returned the little foreigner whom she so + considerately protected, ‘do not ask, I pray. Once again I say it matters + not. I have fear of this man. I do not wish to see him, I do not wish to + be known of him—never again! Enough, most beautiful. Leave it.’ + </p> + <p> + The topic was so disagreeable to him, and so put his usual liveliness to + the rout, that Mrs Plornish forbore to press him further: the rather as + the tea had been drawing for some time on the hob. But she was not the + less surprised and curious for asking no more questions; neither was Mr + Pancks, whose expressive breathing had been labouring hard since the + entrance of the little man, like a locomotive engine with a great load + getting up a steep incline. Maggy, now better dressed than of yore, though + still faithful to the monstrous character of her cap, had been in the + background from the first with open mouth and eyes, which staring and + gaping features were not diminished in breadth by the untimely suppression + of the subject. However, no more was said about it, though much appeared + to be thought on all sides: by no means excepting the two young + Plornishes, who partook of the evening meal as if their eating the bread + and butter were rendered almost superfluous by the painful probability of + the worst of men shortly presenting himself for the purpose of eating + them. Mr Baptist, by degrees began to chirp a little; but never stirred + from the seat he had taken behind the door and close to the window, though + it was not his usual place. As often as the little bell rang, he started + and peeped out secretly, with the end of the little curtain in his hand + and the rest before his face; evidently not at all satisfied but that the + man he dreaded had tracked him through all his doublings and turnings, + with the certainty of a terrible bloodhound. + </p> + <p> + The entrance, at various times, of two or three customers and of Mr + Plornish, gave Mr Baptist just enough of this employment to keep the + attention of the company fixed upon him. Tea was over, and the children + were abed, and Mrs Plornish was feeling her way to the dutiful proposal + that her father should favour them with Chloe, when the bell rang again, + and Mr Clennam came in. + </p> + <p> + Clennam had been poring late over his books and letters; for the + waiting-rooms of the Circumlocution Office ravaged his time sorely. Over + and above that, he was depressed and made uneasy by the late occurrence at + his mother’s. He looked worn and solitary. He felt so, too; but, + nevertheless, was returning home from his counting-house by that end of + the Yard to give them the intelligence that he had received another letter + from Miss Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + The news made a sensation in the cottage which drew off the general + attention from Mr Baptist. Maggy, who pushed her way into the foreground + immediately, would have seemed to draw in the tidings of her Little Mother + equally at her ears, nose, mouth, and eyes, but that the last were + obstructed by tears. She was particularly delighted when Clennam assured + her that there were hospitals, and very kindly conducted hospitals, in + Rome. Mr Pancks rose into new distinction in virtue of being specially + remembered in the letter. Everybody was pleased and interested, and + Clennam was well repaid for his trouble. + </p> + <p> + ‘But you are tired, sir. Let me make you a cup of tea,’ said Mrs Plornish, + ‘if you’d condescend to take such a thing in the cottage; and many thanks + to you, too, I am sure, for bearing us in mind so kindly.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Plornish deeming it incumbent on him, as host, to add his personal + acknowledgments, tendered them in the form which always expressed his + highest ideal of a combination of ceremony with sincerity. + </p> + <p> + ‘John Edward Nandy,’ said Mr Plornish, addressing the old gentleman. ‘Sir. + It’s not too often that you see unpretending actions without a spark of + pride, and therefore when you see them give grateful honour unto the same, + being that if you don’t, and live to want ‘em, it follows serve you + right.’ + </p> + <p> + To which Mr Nandy replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘I am heartily of your opinion, Thomas, and which your opinion is the same + as mine, and therefore no more words and not being backwards with that + opinion, which opinion giving it as yes, Thomas, yes, is the opinion in + which yourself and me must ever be unanimously jined by all, and where + there is not difference of opinion there can be none but one opinion, + which fully no, Thomas, Thomas, no!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur, with less formality, expressed himself gratified by their high + appreciation of so very slight an attention on his part; and explained as + to the tea that he had not yet dined, and was going straight home to + refresh after a long day’s labour, or he would have readily accepted the + hospitable offer. As Mr Pancks was somewhat noisily getting his steam up + for departure, he concluded by asking that gentleman if he would walk with + him? Mr Pancks said he desired no better engagement, and the two took + leave of Happy Cottage. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you will come home with me, Pancks,’ said Arthur, when they got into + the street, ‘and will share what dinner or supper there is, it will be + next door to an act of charity; for I am weary and out of sorts to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask me to do a greater thing than that,’ said Pancks, ‘when you want it + done, and I’ll do it.’ + </p> + <p> + Between this eccentric personage and Clennam, a tacit understanding and + accord had been always improving since Mr Pancks flew over Mr Rugg’s back + in the Marshalsea Yard. When the carriage drove away on the memorable day + of the family’s departure, these two had looked after it together, and had + walked slowly away together. When the first letter came from little + Dorrit, nobody was more interested in hearing of her than Mr Pancks. The + second letter, at that moment in Clennam’s breast-pocket, particularly + remembered him by name. Though he had never before made any profession or + protestation to Clennam, and though what he had just said was little + enough as to the words in which it was expressed, Clennam had long had a + growing belief that Mr Pancks, in his own odd way, was becoming attached + to him. All these strings intertwining made Pancks a very cable of + anchorage that night. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am quite alone,’ Arthur explained as they walked on. ‘My partner is + away, busily engaged at a distance on his branch of our business, and you + shall do just as you like.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you. You didn’t take particular notice of little Altro just now; + did you?’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘No. Why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s a bright fellow, and I like him,’ said Pancks. ‘Something has gone + amiss with him to-day. Have you any idea of any cause that can have + overset him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You surprise me! None whatever.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks gave his reasons for the inquiry. Arthur was quite unprepared + for them, and quite unable to suggest an explanation of them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you’ll ask him,’ said Pancks, ‘as he’s a stranger?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask him what?’ returned Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘What he has on his mind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ought first to see for myself that he has something on his mind, I + think,’ said Clennam. ‘I have found him in every way so diligent, so + grateful (for little enough), and so trustworthy, that it might look like + suspecting him. And that would be very unjust.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘True,’ said Pancks. ‘But, I say! You oughtn’t to be anybody’s proprietor, + Mr Clennam. You’re much too delicate.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For the matter of that,’ returned Clennam laughing, ‘I have not a large + proprietary share in Cavalletto. His carving is his livelihood. He keeps + the keys of the Factory, watches it every alternate night, and acts as a + sort of housekeeper to it generally; but we have little work in the way of + his ingenuity, though we give him what we have. No! I am rather his + adviser than his proprietor. To call me his standing counsel and his + banker would be nearer the fact. Speaking of being his banker, is it not + curious, Pancks, that the ventures which run just now in so many people’s + heads, should run even in little Cavalletto’s?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ventures?’ retorted Pancks, with a snort. ‘What ventures?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘These Merdle enterprises.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Investments,’ said Pancks. ‘Ay, ay! I didn’t know you were speaking + of investments.’ + </p> + <p> + His quick way of replying caused Clennam to look at him, with a doubt + whether he meant more than he said. As it was accompanied, however, with a + quickening of his pace and a corresponding increase in the labouring of + his machinery, Arthur did not pursue the matter, and they soon arrived at + his house. + </p> + <p> + A dinner of soup and a pigeon-pie, served on a little round table before + the fire, and flavoured with a bottle of good wine, oiled Mr Pancks’s + works in a highly effective manner; so that when Clennam produced his + Eastern pipe, and handed Mr Pancks another Eastern pipe, the latter + gentleman was perfectly comfortable. + </p> + <p> + They puffed for a while in silence, Mr Pancks like a steam-vessel with + wind, tide, calm water, and all other sea-going conditions in her favour. + He was the first to speak, and he spoke thus: + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. Investments is the word.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam, with his former look, said ‘Ah!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am going back to it, you see,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I see you are going back to it,’ returned Clennam, wondering why. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wasn’t it a curious thing that they should run in little Altro’s head? + Eh?’ said Pancks as he smoked. ‘Wasn’t that how you put it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That was what I said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ay! But think of the whole Yard having got it. Think of their all meeting + me with it, on my collecting days, here and there and everywhere. Whether + they pay, or whether they don’t pay. Merdle, Merdle, Merdle. Always + Merdle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very strange how these runs on an infatuation prevail,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘An’t it?’ returned Pancks. After smoking for a minute or so, more drily + than comported with his recent oiling, he added: ‘Because you see these + people don’t understand the subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a bit,’ assented Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a bit,’ cried Pancks. ‘Know nothing of figures. Know nothing of money + questions. Never made a calculation. Never worked it, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they had—’ Clennam was going on to say; when Mr Pancks, without + change of countenance, produced a sound so far surpassing all his usual + efforts, nasal or bronchial, that he stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘If they had?’ repeated Pancks in an inquiring tone. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought you—spoke,’ said Arthur, hesitating what name to give the + interruption. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all,’ said Pancks. ‘Not yet. I may in a minute. If they had?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If they had,’ observed Clennam, who was a little at a loss how to take + his friend, ‘why, I suppose they would have known better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How so, Mr Clennam?’ Pancks asked quickly, and with an odd effect of + having been from the commencement of the conversation loaded with the + heavy charge he now fired off. ‘They’re right, you know. They don’t mean + to be, but they’re right.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Right in sharing Cavalletto’s inclination to speculate with Mr Merdle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Per-fectly, sir,’ said Pancks. ‘I’ve gone into it. I’ve made the + calculations. I’ve worked it. They’re safe and genuine.’ Relieved by + having got to this, Mr Pancks took as long a pull as his lungs would + permit at his Eastern pipe, and looked sagaciously and steadily at Clennam + while inhaling and exhaling too. + </p> + <p> + In those moments, Mr Pancks began to give out the dangerous infection with + which he was laden. It is the manner of communicating these diseases; it + is the subtle way in which they go about. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean, my good Pancks,’ asked Clennam emphatically, ‘that you would + put that thousand pounds of yours, let us say, for instance, out at this + kind of interest?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly,’ said Pancks. ‘Already done it, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks took another long inhalation, another long exhalation, another + long sagacious look at Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you, Mr Clennam, I’ve gone into it,’ said Pancks. ‘He’s a man of + immense resources—enormous capital—government influence. + They’re the best schemes afloat. They’re safe. They’re certain.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well!’ returned Clennam, looking first at him gravely and then at the + fire gravely. ‘You surprise me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bah!’ Pancks retorted. ‘Don’t say that, sir. It’s what you ought to do + yourself! Why don’t you do as I do?’ + </p> + <p> + Of whom Mr Pancks had taken the prevalent disease, he could no more have + told than if he had unconsciously taken a fever. Bred at first, as many + physical diseases are, in the wickedness of men, and then disseminated in + their ignorance, these epidemics, after a period, get communicated to many + sufferers who are neither ignorant nor wicked. Mr Pancks might, or might + not, have caught the illness himself from a subject of this class; but in + this category he appeared before Clennam, and the infection he threw off + was all the more virulent. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you have really invested,’ Clennam had already passed to that word, + ‘your thousand pounds, Pancks?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure, sir!’ replied Pancks boldly, with a puff of smoke. ‘And only + wish it ten!’ + </p> + <p> + Now, Clennam had two subjects lying heavy on his lonely mind that night; + the one, his partner’s long-deferred hope; the other, what he had seen and + heard at his mother’s. In the relief of having this companion, and of + feeling that he could trust him, he passed on to both, and both brought + him round again, with an increase and acceleration of force, to his point + of departure. + </p> + <p> + It came about in the simplest manner. Quitting the investment subject, + after an interval of silent looking at the fire through the smoke of his + pipe, he told Pancks how and why he was occupied with the great National + Department. ‘A hard case it has been, and a hard case it is on Doyce,’ he + finished by saying, with all the honest feeling the topic roused in him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hard indeed,’ Pancks acquiesced. ‘But you manage for him, Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you mean?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Manage the money part of the business?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. As well as I can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Manage it better, sir,’ said Pancks. ‘Recompense him for his toils and + disappointments. Give him the chances of the time. He’ll never benefit + himself in that way, patient and preoccupied workman. He looks to you, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do my best, Pancks,’ returned Clennam, uneasily. ‘As to duly weighing + and considering these new enterprises of which I have had no experience, I + doubt if I am fit for it, I am growing old.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Growing old?’ cried Pancks. ‘Ha, ha!’ + </p> + <p> + There was something so indubitably genuine in the wonderful laugh, and + series of snorts and puffs, engendered in Mr Pancks’s astonishment at, and + utter rejection of, the idea, that his being quite in earnest could not be + questioned. + </p> + <p> + ‘Growing old?’ cried Pancks. ‘Hear, hear, hear! Old? Hear him, hear him!’ + </p> + <p> + The positive refusal expressed in Mr Pancks’s continued snorts, no less + than in these exclamations, to entertain the sentiment for a single + instant, drove Arthur away from it. Indeed, he was fearful of something + happening to Mr Pancks in the violent conflict that took place between the + breath he jerked out of himself and the smoke he jerked into himself. This + abandonment of the second topic threw him on the third. + </p> + <p> + ‘Young, old, or middle-aged, Pancks,’ he said, when there was a favourable + pause, ‘I am in a very anxious and uncertain state; a state that even + leads me to doubt whether anything now seeming to belong to me, may be + really mine. Shall I tell you how this is? Shall I put a great trust in + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall, sir,’ said Pancks, ‘if you believe me worthy of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may!’ Mr Pancks’s short and sharp rejoinder, confirmed by the sudden + outstretching of his coaly hand, was most expressive and convincing. + Arthur shook the hand warmly. + </p> + <p> + He then, softening the nature of his old apprehensions as much as was + possible consistently with their being made intelligible and never + alluding to his mother by name, but speaking vaguely of a relation of his, + confided to Mr Pancks a broad outline of the misgivings he entertained, + and of the interview he had witnessed. Mr Pancks listened with such + interest that, regardless of the charms of the Eastern pipe, he put it in + the grate among the fire-irons, and occupied his hands during the whole + recital in so erecting the loops and hooks of hair all over his head, that + he looked, when it came to a conclusion, like a journeyman Hamlet in + conversation with his father’s spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Brings me back, sir,’ was his exclamation then, with a startling touch on + Clennam’s knee, ‘brings me back, sir, to the Investments! I don’t say + anything of your making yourself poor to repair a wrong you never + committed. That’s you. A man must be himself. But I say this, fearing you + may want money to save your own blood from exposure and disgrace—make + as much as you can!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur shook his head, but looked at him thoughtfully too. + </p> + <p> + ‘Be as rich as you can, sir,’ Pancks adjured him with a powerful + concentration of all his energies on the advice. ‘Be as rich as you + honestly can. It’s your duty. Not for your sake, but for the sake of + others. Take time by the forelock. Poor Mr Doyce (who really <i>is</i> + growing old) depends upon you. Your relative depends upon you. You don’t + know what depends upon you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, well!’ returned Arthur. ‘Enough for to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘One word more, Mr Clennam,’ retorted Pancks, ‘and then enough for + to-night. Why should you leave all the gains to the gluttons, knaves, and + impostors? Why should you leave all the gains that are to be got to my + proprietor and the like of him? Yet you’re always doing it. When I say + you, I mean such men as you. You know you are. Why, I see it every day of + my life. I see nothing else. It’s my business to see it. Therefore I say,’ + urged Pancks, ‘Go in and win!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But what of Go in and lose?’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Can’t be done, sir,’ returned Pancks. ‘I have looked into it. Name up + everywhere—immense resources—enormous capital—great + position—high connection—government influence. Can’t be done!’ + </p> + <p> + Gradually, after this closing exposition, Mr Pancks subsided; allowed his + hair to droop as much as it ever would droop on the utmost persuasion; + reclaimed the pipe from the fire-irons, filled it anew, and smoked it out. + They said little more; but were company to one another in silently + pursuing the same subjects, and did not part until midnight. On taking his + leave, Mr Pancks, when he had shaken hands with Clennam, worked completely + round him before he steamed out at the door. This, Arthur received as an + assurance that he might implicitly rely on Pancks, if he ever should come + to need assistance; either in any of the matters of which they had spoken + that night, or any other subject that could in any way affect himself. + </p> + <p> + At intervals all next day, and even while his attention was fixed on other + things, he thought of Mr Pancks’s investment of his thousand pounds, and + of his having ‘looked into it.’ He thought of Mr Pancks’s being so + sanguine in this matter, and of his not being usually of a sanguine + character. He thought of the great National Department, and of the delight + it would be to him to see Doyce better off. He thought of the darkly + threatening place that went by the name of Home in his remembrance, and of + the gathering shadows which made it yet more darkly threatening than of + old. He observed anew that wherever he went, he saw, or heard, or touched, + the celebrated name of Merdle; he found it difficult even to remain at his + desk a couple of hours, without having it presented to one of his bodily + senses through some agency or other. He began to think it was curious too + that it should be everywhere, and that nobody but he should seem to have + any mistrust of it. Though indeed he began to remember, when he got to + this, even <i>he</i> did not mistrust it; he had only happened to keep + aloof from it. + </p> + <p> + Such symptoms, when a disease of the kind is rife, are usually the signs + of sickening. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0050"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 14. Taking Advice + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen it became known to the Britons on the shore of the yellow Tiber that + their intelligent compatriot, Mr Sparkler, was made one of the Lords of + their Circumlocution Office, they took it as a piece of news with which + they had no nearer concern than with any other piece of news—any + other Accident or Offence—in the English papers. Some laughed; some + said, by way of complete excuse, that the post was virtually a sinecure, + and any fool who could spell his name was good enough for it; some, and + these the more solemn political oracles, said that Decimus did wisely to + strengthen himself, and that the sole constitutional purpose of all places + within the gift of Decimus, was, that Decimus <i>should</i> strengthen + himself. A few bilious Britons there were who would not subscribe to this + article of faith; but their objection was purely theoretical. In a + practical point of view, they listlessly abandoned the matter, as being + the business of some other Britons unknown, somewhere, or nowhere. In like + manner, at home, great numbers of Britons maintained, for as long as + four-and-twenty consecutive hours, that those invisible and anonymous + Britons ‘ought to take it up;’ and that if they quietly acquiesced in it, + they deserved it. But of what class the remiss Britons were composed, and + where the unlucky creatures hid themselves, and why they hid themselves, + and how it constantly happened that they neglected their interests, when + so many other Britons were quite at a loss to account for their not + looking after those interests, was not, either upon the shore of the + yellow Tiber or the shore of the black Thames, made apparent to men. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle circulated the news, as she received congratulations on it, + with a careless grace that displayed it to advantage, as the setting + displays the jewel. Yes, she said, Edmund had taken the place. Mr Merdle + wished him to take it, and he had taken it. She hoped Edmund might like + it, but really she didn’t know. It would keep him in town a good deal, and + he preferred the country. Still, it was not a disagreeable position—and + it was a position. There was no denying that the thing was a compliment to + Mr Merdle, and was not a bad thing for Edmund if he liked it. It was just + as well that he should have something to do, and it was just as well that + he should have something for doing it. Whether it would be more agreeable + to Edmund than the army, remained to be seen. + </p> + <p> + Thus the Bosom; accomplished in the art of seeming to make things of small + account, and really enhancing them in the process. While Henry Gowan, whom + Decimus had thrown away, went through the whole round of his acquaintance + between the Gate of the People and the town of Albano, vowing, almost (but + not quite) with tears in his eyes, that Sparkler was the + sweetest-tempered, simplest-hearted, altogether most lovable jackass that + ever grazed on the public common; and that only one circumstance could + have delighted him (Gowan) more, than his (the beloved jackass’s) getting + this post, and that would have been his (Gowan’s) getting it himself. He + said it was the very thing for Sparkler. There was nothing to do, and he + would do it charmingly; there was a handsome salary to draw, and he would + draw it charmingly; it was a delightful, appropriate, capital appointment; + and he almost forgave the donor his slight of himself, in his joy that the + dear donkey for whom he had so great an affection was so admirably + stabled. Nor did his benevolence stop here. He took pains, on all social + occasions, to draw Mr Sparkler out, and make him conspicuous before the + company; and, although the considerate action always resulted in that + young gentleman’s making a dreary and forlorn mental spectacle of himself, + the friendly intention was not to be doubted. + </p> + <p> + Unless, indeed, it chanced to be doubted by the object of Mr Sparkler’s + affections. Miss Fanny was now in the difficult situation of being + universally known in that light, and of not having dismissed Mr Sparkler, + however capriciously she used him. Hence, she was sufficiently identified + with the gentleman to feel compromised by his being more than usually + ridiculous; and hence, being by no means deficient in quickness, she + sometimes came to his rescue against Gowan, and did him very good service. + But, while doing this, she was ashamed of him, undetermined whether to get + rid of him or more decidedly encourage him, distracted with apprehensions + that she was every day becoming more and more immeshed in her + uncertainties, and tortured by misgivings that Mrs Merdle triumphed in her + distress. With this tumult in her mind, it is no subject for surprise that + Miss Fanny came home one night in a state of agitation from a concert and + ball at Mrs Merdle’s house, and on her sister affectionately trying to + soothe her, pushed that sister away from the toilette-table at which she + sat angrily trying to cry, and declared with a heaving bosom that she + detested everybody, and she wished she was dead. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Fanny, what is the matter? Tell me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Matter, you little Mole,’ said Fanny. ‘If you were not the blindest of + the blind, you would have no occasion to ask me. The idea of daring to + pretend to assert that you have eyes in your head, and yet ask me what’s + the matter!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it Mr Sparkler, dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mis-ter Spark-ler!’ repeated Fanny, with unbounded scorn, as if he were + the last subject in the Solar system that could possibly be near her mind. + ‘No, Miss Bat, it is not.’ + </p> + <p> + Immediately afterwards, she became remorseful for having called her sister + names; declaring with sobs that she knew she made herself hateful, but + that everybody drove her to it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t think you are well to-night, dear Fanny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stuff and nonsense!’ replied the young lady, turning angry again; ‘I am + as well as you are. Perhaps I might say better, and yet make no boast of + it.’ + </p> + <p> + Poor Little Dorrit, not seeing her way to the offering of any soothing + words that would escape repudiation, deemed it best to remain quiet. At + first, Fanny took this ill, too; protesting to her looking-glass, that of + all the trying sisters a girl could have, she did think the most trying + sister was a flat sister. That she knew she was at times a wretched + temper; that she knew she made herself hateful; that when she made herself + hateful, nothing would do her half the good as being told so; but that, + being afflicted with a flat sister, she never <i>was</i> told so, and the + consequence resulted that she was absolutely tempted and goaded into + making herself disagreeable. Besides (she angrily told her looking-glass), + she didn’t want to be forgiven. It was not a right example, that she + should be constantly stooping to be forgiven by a younger sister. And this + was the Art of it—that she was always being placed in the position + of being forgiven, whether she liked it or not. Finally she burst into + violent weeping, and, when her sister came and sat close at her side to + comfort her, said, ‘Amy, you’re an Angel!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But, I tell you what, my Pet,’ said Fanny, when her sister’s gentleness + had calmed her, ‘it now comes to this; that things cannot and shall not go + on as they are at present going on, and that there must be an end of this, + one way or another.’ + </p> + <p> + As the announcement was vague, though very peremptory, Little Dorrit + returned, ‘Let us talk about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite so, my dear,’ assented Fanny, as she dried her eyes. ‘Let us talk + about it. I am rational again now, and you shall advise me. <i>Will</i> + you advise me, my sweet child?’ + </p> + <p> + Even Amy smiled at this notion, but she said, ‘I will, Fanny, as well as I + can.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, dearest Amy,’ returned Fanny, kissing her. ‘You are my + anchor.’ + </p> + <p> + Having embraced her Anchor with great affection, Fanny took a bottle of + sweet toilette water from the table, and called to her maid for a fine + handkerchief. She then dismissed that attendant for the night, and went on + to be advised; dabbing her eyes and forehead from time to time to cool + them. + </p> + <p> + ‘My love,’ Fanny began, ‘our characters and points of view are + sufficiently different (kiss me again, my darling), to make it very + probable that I shall surprise you by what I am going to say. What I am + going to say, my dear, is, that notwithstanding our property, we labour, + socially speaking, under disadvantages. You don’t quite understand what I + mean, Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no doubt I shall,’ said Amy, mildly, ‘after a few words more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, my dear, what I mean is, that we are, after all, newcomers into + fashionable life.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure, Fanny,’ Little Dorrit interposed in her zealous admiration, + ‘no one need find that out in you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, my dear child, perhaps not,’ said Fanny, ‘though it’s most kind and + most affectionate in you, you precious girl, to say so.’ Here she dabbed + her sister’s forehead, and blew upon it a little. ‘But you are,’ resumed + Fanny, ‘as is well known, the dearest little thing that ever was! To + resume, my child. Pa is extremely gentlemanly and extremely well informed, + but he is, in some trifling respects, a little different from other + gentlemen of his fortune: partly on account of what he has gone through, + poor dear: partly, I fancy, on account of its often running in his mind + that other people are thinking about that, while he is talking to them. + Uncle, my love, is altogether unpresentable. Though a dear creature to + whom I am tenderly attached, he is, socially speaking, shocking. Edward is + frightfully expensive and dissipated. I don’t mean that there is anything + ungenteel in that itself—far from it—but I do mean that he + doesn’t do it well, and that he doesn’t, if I may so express myself, get + the money’s-worth in the sort of dissipated reputation that attaches to + him.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor Edward!’ sighed Little Dorrit, with the whole family history in the + sigh. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. And poor you and me, too,’ returned Fanny, rather sharply. ‘Very + true! Then, my dear, we have no mother, and we have a Mrs General. And I + tell you again, darling, that Mrs General, if I may reverse a common + proverb and adapt it to her, is a cat in gloves who <i>will</i> catch + mice. That woman, I am quite sure and confident, will be our + mother-in-law.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can hardly think, Fanny—’ Fanny stopped her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, don’t argue with me about it, Amy,’ said she, ‘because I know + better.’ Feeling that she had been sharp again, she dabbed her sister’s + forehead again, and blew upon it again. ‘To resume once more, my dear. It + then becomes a question with me (I am proud and spirited, Amy, as you very + well know: too much so, I dare say) whether I shall make up my mind to + take it upon myself to carry the family through.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How?’ asked her sister, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not,’ said Fanny, without answering the question, ‘submit to be + mother-in-lawed by Mrs General; and I will not submit to be, in any + respect whatever, either patronised or tormented by Mrs Merdle.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit laid her hand upon the hand that held the bottle of sweet + water, with a still more anxious look. Fanny, quite punishing her own + forehead with the vehement dabs she now began to give it, fitfully went + on. + </p> + <p> + ‘That he has somehow or other, and how is of no consequence, attained a + very good position, no one can deny. That it is a very good connection, no + one can deny. And as to the question of clever or not clever, I doubt very + much whether a clever husband would be suitable to me. I cannot submit. I + should not be able to defer to him enough.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my dear Fanny!’ expostulated Little Dorrit, upon whom a kind of terror + had been stealing as she perceived what her sister meant. ‘If you loved + any one, all this feeling would change. If you loved any one, you would no + more be yourself, but you would quite lose and forget yourself in your + devotion to him. If you loved him, Fanny—’ Fanny had stopped the + dabbing hand, and was looking at her fixedly. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, indeed!’ cried Fanny. ‘Really? Bless me, how much some people know of + some subjects! They say every one has a subject, and I certainly seem to + have hit upon yours, Amy. There, you little thing, I was only in fun,’ + dabbing her sister’s forehead; ‘but don’t you be a silly puss, and don’t + you think flightily and eloquently about degenerate impossibilities. + There! Now, I’ll go back to myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Fanny, let me say first, that I would far rather we worked for a + scanty living again than I would see you rich and married to Mr Sparkler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Let</i> you say, my dear?’ retorted Fanny. ‘Why, of course, I will <i>let</i> + you say anything. There is no constraint upon you, I hope. We are together + to talk it over. And as to marrying Mr Sparkler, I have not the slightest + intention of doing so to-night, my dear, or to-morrow morning either.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But at some time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At no time, for anything I know at present,’ answered Fanny, with + indifference. Then, suddenly changing her indifference into a burning + restlessness, she added, ‘You talk about the clever men, you little thing! + It’s all very fine and easy to talk about the clever men; but where are + they? <i>I</i> don’t see them anywhere near <i>me</i>!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Fanny, so short a time—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Short time or long time,’ interrupted Fanny. ‘I am impatient of our + situation. I don’t like our situation, and very little would induce me to + change it. Other girls, differently reared and differently circumstanced + altogether, might wonder at what I say or may do. Let them. They are + driven by their lives and characters; I am driven by mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny, my dear Fanny, you know that you have qualities to make you the + wife of one very superior to Mr Sparkler.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my dear Amy,’ retorted Fanny, parodying her words, ‘I know that I + wish to have a more defined and distinct position, in which I can assert + myself with greater effect against that insolent woman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you therefore—forgive my asking, Fanny—therefore marry + her son?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, perhaps,’ said Fanny, with a triumphant smile. ‘There may be many + less promising ways of arriving at an end than that, my dear. That piece + of insolence may think, now, that it would be a great success to get her + son off upon me, and shelve me. But, perhaps, she little thinks how I + would retort upon her if I married her son. I would oppose her in + everything, and compete with her. I would make it the business of my + life.’ + </p> + <p> + Fanny set down the bottle when she came to this, and walked about the + room; always stopping and standing still while she spoke. + </p> + <p> + ‘One thing I could certainly do, my child: I could make her older. And I + would!’ + </p> + <p> + This was followed by another walk. + </p> + <p> + ‘I would talk of her as an old woman. I would pretend to know—if I + didn’t, but I should from her son—all about her age. And she should + hear me say, Amy: affectionately, quite dutifully and affectionately: how + well she looked, considering her time of life. I could make her seem older + at once, by being myself so much younger. I may not be as handsome as she + is; I am not a fair judge of that question, I suppose; but I know I am + handsome enough to be a thorn in her side. And I would be!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear sister, would you condemn yourself to an unhappy life for this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It wouldn’t be an unhappy life, Amy. It would be the life I am fitted + for. Whether by disposition, or whether by circumstances, is no matter; I + am better fitted for such a life than for almost any other.’ + </p> + <p> + There was something of a desolate tone in those words; but, with a short + proud laugh she took another walk, and after passing a great looking-glass + came to another stop. + </p> + <p> + ‘Figure! Figure, Amy! Well. The woman has a good figure. I will give her + her due, and not deny it. But is it so far beyond all others that it is + altogether unapproachable? Upon my word, I am not so sure of it. Give some + much younger woman the latitude as to dress that she has, being married; + and we would see about that, my dear!’ + </p> + <p> + Something in the thought that was agreeable and flattering, brought her + back to her seat in a gayer temper. She took her sister’s hands in hers, + and clapped all four hands above her head as she looked in her sister’s + face laughing: + </p> + <p> + ‘And the dancer, Amy, that she has quite forgotten—the dancer who + bore no sort of resemblance to me, and of whom I never remind her, oh dear + no!—should dance through her life, and dance in her way, to such a + tune as would disturb her insolent placidity a little. Just a little, my + dear Amy, just a little!’ + </p> + <p> + Meeting an earnest and imploring look in Amy’s face, she brought the four + hands down, and laid only one on Amy’s lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, don’t argue with me, child,’ she said in a sterner way, ‘because it + is of no use. I understand these subjects much better than you do. I have + not nearly made up my mind, but it may be. Now we have talked this over + comfortably, and may go to bed. You best and dearest little mouse, Good + night!’ With those words Fanny weighed her Anchor, and—having taken + so much advice—left off being advised for that occasion. + </p> + <p> + Thenceforward, Amy observed Mr Sparkler’s treatment by his enslaver, with + new reasons for attaching importance to all that passed between them. + There were times when Fanny appeared quite unable to endure his mental + feebleness, and when she became so sharply impatient of it that she would + all but dismiss him for good. There were other times when she got on much + better with him; when he amused her, and when her sense of superiority + seemed to counterbalance that opposite side of the scale. If Mr Sparkler + had been other than the faithfullest and most submissive of swains, he was + sufficiently hard pressed to have fled from the scene of his trials, and + have set at least the whole distance from Rome to London between himself + and his enchantress. But he had no greater will of his own than a boat has + when it is towed by a steam-ship; and he followed his cruel mistress + through rough and smooth, on equally strong compulsion. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Merdle, during these passages, said little to Fanny, but said more + about her. She was, as it were, forced to look at her through her + eye-glass, and in general conversation to allow commendations of her + beauty to be wrung from her by its irresistible demands. The defiant + character it assumed when Fanny heard these extollings (as it generally + happened that she did), was not expressive of concessions to the impartial + bosom; but the utmost revenge the bosom took was, to say audibly, ‘A + spoilt beauty—but with that face and shape, who could wonder?’ + </p> + <p> + It might have been about a month or six weeks after the night of the new + advice, when Little Dorrit began to think she detected some new + understanding between Mr Sparkler and Fanny. Mr Sparkler, as if in + attendance to some compact, scarcely ever spoke without first looking + towards Fanny for leave. That young lady was too discreet ever to look + back again; but, if Mr Sparkler had permission to speak, she remained + silent; if he had not, she herself spoke. Moreover, it became plain + whenever Henry Gowan attempted to perform the friendly office of drawing + him out, that he was not to be drawn. And not only that, but Fanny would + presently, without any pointed application in the world, chance to say + something with such a sting in it that Gowan would draw back as if he had + put his hand into a bee-hive. + </p> + <p> + There was yet another circumstance which went a long way to confirm Little + Dorrit in her fears, though it was not a great circumstance in itself. Mr + Sparkler’s demeanour towards herself changed. It became fraternal. + Sometimes, when she was in the outer circle of assemblies—at their + own residence, at Mrs Merdle’s, or elsewhere—she would find herself + stealthily supported round the waist by Mr Sparkler’s arm. Mr Sparkler + never offered the slightest explanation of this attention; but merely + smiled with an air of blundering, contented, good-natured proprietorship, + which, in so heavy a gentleman, was ominously expressive. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was at home one day, thinking about Fanny with a heavy + heart. They had a room at one end of their drawing-room suite, nearly all + irregular bay-window, projecting over the street, and commanding all the + picturesque life and variety of the Corso, both up and down. At three or + four o’clock in the afternoon, English time, the view from this window was + very bright and peculiar; and Little Dorrit used to sit and muse here, + much as she had been used to while away the time in her balcony at Venice. + Seated thus one day, she was softly touched on the shoulder, and Fanny + said, ‘Well, Amy dear,’ and took her seat at her side. Their seat was a + part of the window; when there was anything in the way of a procession + going on, they used to have bright draperies hung out of the window, and + used to kneel or sit on this seat, and look out at it, leaning on the + brilliant colour. But there was no procession that day, and Little Dorrit + was rather surprised by Fanny’s being at home at that hour, as she was + generally out on horseback then. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, Amy,’ said Fanny, ‘what are you thinking of, little one?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I was thinking of you, Fanny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No? What a coincidence! I declare here’s some one else. You were not + thinking of this some one else too; were you, Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + Amy <i>had</i> been thinking of this some one else too; for it was Mr + Sparkler. She did not say so, however, as she gave him her hand. Mr + Sparkler came and sat down on the other side of her, and she felt the + fraternal railing come behind her, and apparently stretch on to include + Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, my little sister,’ said Fanny with a sigh, ‘I suppose you know what + this means?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She’s as beautiful as she’s doated on,’ stammered Mr Sparkler—‘and + there’s no nonsense about her—it’s arranged—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You needn’t explain, Edmund,’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, my love,’ said Mr Sparkler. + </p> + <p> + ‘In short, pet,’ proceeded Fanny, ‘on the whole, we are engaged. We must + tell papa about it either to-night or to-morrow, according to the + opportunities. Then it’s done, and very little more need be said.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Fanny,’ said Mr Sparkler, with deference, ‘I should like to say a + word to Amy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well! Say it for goodness’ sake,’ returned the young lady. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am convinced, my dear Amy,’ said Mr Sparkler, ‘that if ever there was a + girl, next to your highly endowed and beautiful sister, who had no + nonsense about her—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We know all about that, Edmund,’ interposed Miss Fanny. ‘Never mind that. + Pray go on to something else besides our having no nonsense about us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, my love,’ said Mr Sparkler. ‘And I assure you, Amy, that nothing can + be a greater happiness to myself, myself—next to the happiness of + being so highly honoured with the choice of a glorious girl who hasn’t an + atom of—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, Edmund, pray!’ interrupted Fanny, with a slight pat of her pretty + foot upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + ‘My love, you’re quite right,’ said Mr Sparkler, ‘and I know I have a + habit of it. What I wished to declare was, that nothing can be a greater + happiness to myself, myself-next to the happiness of being united to + pre-eminently the most glorious of girls—than to have the happiness + of cultivating the affectionate acquaintance of Amy. I may not myself,’ + said Mr Sparkler manfully, ‘be up to the mark on some other subjects at a + short notice, and I am aware that if you were to poll Society the general + opinion would be that I am not; but on the subject of Amy I AM up to the + mark!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler kissed her, in witness thereof. + </p> + <p> + ‘A knife and fork and an apartment,’ proceeded Mr Sparkler, growing, in + comparison with his oratorical antecedents, quite diffuse, ‘will ever be + at Amy’s disposal. My Governor, I am sure, will always be proud to + entertain one whom I so much esteem. And regarding my mother,’ said Mr + Sparkler, ‘who is a remarkably fine woman, with—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund, Edmund!’ cried Miss Fanny, as before. + </p> + <p> + ‘With submission, my soul,’ pleaded Mr Sparkler. ‘I know I have a habit of + it, and I thank you very much, my adorable girl, for taking the trouble to + correct it; but my mother is admitted on all sides to be a remarkably fine + woman, and she really hasn’t any.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That may be, or may not be,’ returned Fanny, ‘but pray don’t mention it + any more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will not, my love,’ said Mr Sparkler. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, in fact, you have nothing more to say, Edmund; have you?’ inquired + Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘So far from it, my adorable girl,’ answered Mr Sparkler, ‘I apologise for + having said so much.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler perceived, by a kind of inspiration, that the question implied + had he not better go? He therefore withdrew the fraternal railing, and + neatly said that he thought he would, with submission, take his leave. He + did not go without being congratulated by Amy, as well as she could + discharge that office in the flutter and distress of her spirits. + </p> + <p> + When he was gone, she said, ‘O Fanny, Fanny!’ and turned to her sister in + the bright window, and fell upon her bosom and cried there. Fanny laughed + at first; but soon laid her face against her sister’s and cried too—a + little. It was the last time Fanny ever showed that there was any hidden, + suppressed, or conquered feeling in her on the matter. From that hour the + way she had chosen lay before her, and she trod it with her own imperious + self-willed step. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0051"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 15. No just Cause or Impediment why these Two Persons + </h2> + <p> + should not be joined together + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, on being informed by his elder daughter that she had accepted + matrimonial overtures from Mr Sparkler, to whom she had plighted her + troth, received the communication at once with great dignity and with a + large display of parental pride; his dignity dilating with the widened + prospect of advantageous ground from which to make acquaintances, and his + parental pride being developed by Miss Fanny’s ready sympathy with that + great object of his existence. He gave her to understand that her noble + ambition found harmonious echoes in his heart; and bestowed his blessing + on her, as a child brimful of duty and good principle, self-devoted to the + aggrandisement of the family name. + </p> + <p> + To Mr Sparkler, when Miss Fanny permitted him to appear, Mr Dorrit said, + he would not disguise that the alliance Mr Sparkler did him the honour to + propose was highly congenial to his feelings; both as being in unison with + the spontaneous affections of his daughter Fanny, and as opening a family + connection of a gratifying nature with Mr Merdle, the master spirit of the + age. Mrs Merdle also, as a leading lady rich in distinction, elegance, + grace, and beauty, he mentioned in very laudatory terms. He felt it his + duty to remark (he was sure a gentleman of Mr Sparkler’s fine sense would + interpret him with all delicacy), that he could not consider this proposal + definitely determined on, until he should have had the privilege of + holding some correspondence with Mr Merdle; and of ascertaining it to be + so far accordant with the views of that eminent gentleman as that his (Mr + Dorrit’s) daughter would be received on that footing which her station in + life and her dowry and expectations warranted him in requiring that she + should maintain in what he trusted he might be allowed, without the + appearance of being mercenary, to call the Eye of the Great World. While + saying this, which his character as a gentleman of some little station, + and his character as a father, equally demanded of him, he would not be so + diplomatic as to conceal that the proposal remained in hopeful abeyance + and under conditional acceptance, and that he thanked Mr Sparkler for the + compliment rendered to himself and to his family. He concluded with some + further and more general observations on the—ha—character of + an independent gentleman, and the—hum—character of a possibly + too partial and admiring parent. To sum the whole up shortly, he received + Mr Sparkler’s offer very much as he would have received three or four + half-crowns from him in the days that were gone. + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler, finding himself stunned by the words thus heaped upon his + inoffensive head, made a brief though pertinent rejoinder; the same being + neither more nor less than that he had long perceived Miss Fanny to have + no nonsense about her, and that he had no doubt of its being all right + with his Governor. At that point the object of his affections shut him up + like a box with a spring lid, and sent him away. + </p> + <p> + Proceeding shortly afterwards to pay his respects to the Bosom, Mr Dorrit + was received by it with great consideration. Mrs Merdle had heard of this + affair from Edmund. She had been surprised at first, because she had not + thought Edmund a marrying man. Society had not thought Edmund a marrying + man. Still, of course she had seen, as a woman (we women did instinctively + see these things, Mr Dorrit!), that Edmund had been immensely captivated + by Miss Dorrit, and she had openly said that Mr Dorrit had much to answer + for in bringing so charming a girl abroad to turn the heads of his + countrymen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have I the honour to conclude, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘that the + direction which Mr Sparkler’s affections have taken, is—ha-approved + of by you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I assure you, Mr Dorrit,’ returned the lady, ‘that, personally, I am + charmed.’ + </p> + <p> + That was very gratifying to Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Personally,’ repeated Mrs Merdle, ‘charmed.’ + </p> + <p> + This casual repetition of the word ‘personally,’ moved Mr Dorrit to + express his hope that Mr Merdle’s approval, too, would not be wanting? + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot,’ said Mrs Merdle, ‘take upon myself to answer positively for Mr + Merdle; gentlemen, especially gentlemen who are what Society calls + capitalists, having their own ideas of these matters. But I should think—merely + giving an opinion, Mr Dorrit—I should think Mr Merdle would be upon + the whole,’ here she held a review of herself before adding at her + leisure, ‘quite charmed.’ + </p> + <p> + At the mention of gentlemen whom Society called capitalists, Mr Dorrit had + coughed, as if some internal demur were breaking out of him. Mrs Merdle + had observed it, and went on to take up the cue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Though, indeed, Mr Dorrit, it is scarcely necessary for me to make that + remark, except in the mere openness of saying what is uppermost to one + whom I so highly regard, and with whom I hope I may have the pleasure of + being brought into still more agreeable relations. For one cannot but see + the great probability of your considering such things from Mr Merdle’s own + point of view, except indeed that circumstances have made it Mr Merdle’s + accidental fortune, or misfortune, to be engaged in business transactions, + and that they, however vast, may a little cramp his horizons. I am a very + child as to having any notion of business,’ said Mrs Merdle; ‘but I am + afraid, Mr Dorrit, it may have that tendency.’ + </p> + <p> + This skilful see-saw of Mr Dorrit and Mrs Merdle, so that each of them + sent the other up, and each of them sent the other down, and neither had + the advantage, acted as a sedative on Mr Dorrit’s cough. He remarked with + his utmost politeness, that he must beg to protest against its being + supposed, even by Mrs Merdle, the accomplished and graceful (to which + compliment she bent herself), that such enterprises as Mr Merdle’s, apart + as they were from the puny undertakings of the rest of men, had any lower + tendency than to enlarge and expand the genius in which they were + conceived. ‘You are generosity itself,’ said Mrs Merdle in return, smiling + her best smile; ‘let us hope so. But I confess I am almost superstitious + in my ideas about business.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit threw in another compliment here, to the effect that business, + like the time which was precious in it, was made for slaves; and that it + was not for Mrs Merdle, who ruled all hearts at her supreme pleasure, to + have anything to do with it. Mrs Merdle laughed, and conveyed to Mr Dorrit + an idea that the Bosom flushed—which was one of her best effects. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say so much,’ she then explained, ‘merely because Mr Merdle has always + taken the greatest interest in Edmund, and has always expressed the + strongest desire to advance his prospects. Edmund’s public position, I + think you know. His private position rests solely with Mr Merdle. In my + foolish incapacity for business, I assure you I know no more.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit again expressed, in his own way, the sentiment that business was + below the ken of enslavers and enchantresses. He then mentioned his + intention, as a gentleman and a parent, of writing to Mr Merdle. Mrs + Merdle concurred with all her heart—or with all her art, which was + exactly the same thing—and herself despatched a preparatory letter + by the next post to the eighth wonder of the world. + </p> + <p> + In his epistolary communication, as in his dialogues and discourses on the + great question to which it related, Mr Dorrit surrounded the subject with + flourishes, as writing-masters embellish copy-books and ciphering-books: + where the titles of the elementary rules of arithmetic diverge into swans, + eagles, griffins, and other calligraphic recreations, and where the + capital letters go out of their minds and bodies into ecstasies of pen and + ink. Nevertheless, he did render the purport of his letter sufficiently + clear, to enable Mr Merdle to make a decent pretence of having learnt it + from that source. Mr Merdle replied to it accordingly. Mr Dorrit replied + to Mr Merdle; Mr Merdle replied to Mr Dorrit; and it was soon announced + that the corresponding powers had come to a satisfactory understanding. + </p> + <p> + Now, and not before, Miss Fanny burst upon the scene, completely arrayed + for her new part. Now and not before, she wholly absorbed Mr Sparkler in + her light, and shone for both, and twenty more. No longer feeling that + want of a defined place and character which had caused her so much + trouble, this fair ship began to steer steadily on a shaped course, and to + swim with a weight and balance that developed her sailing qualities. + </p> + <p> + ‘The preliminaries being so satisfactorily arranged, I think I will now, + my dear,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘announce—ha—formally, to Mrs + General—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa,’ returned Fanny, taking him up short upon that name, ‘I don’t see + what Mrs General has got to do with it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘it will be an act of courtesy to—hum—a + lady, well bred and refined—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I am sick of Mrs General’s good breeding and refinement, papa,’ said + Fanny. ‘I am tired of Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tired,’ repeated Mr Dorrit in reproachful astonishment, ‘of—ha—Mrs + General.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite disgusted with her, papa,’ said Fanny. ‘I really don’t see what she + has to do with my marriage. Let her keep to her own matrimonial projects—if + she has any.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ returned Mr Dorrit, with a grave and weighty slowness upon him, + contrasting strongly with his daughter’s levity: ‘I beg the favour of your + explaining—ha—what it is you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean, papa,’ said Fanny, ‘that if Mrs General should happen to have any + matrimonial projects of her own, I dare say they are quite enough to + occupy her spare time. And that if she has not, so much the better; but + still I don’t wish to have the honour of making announcements to her.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Permit me to ask you, Fanny,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘why not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because she can find my engagement out for herself, papa,’ retorted + Fanny. ‘She is watchful enough, I dare say. I think I have seen her so. + Let her find it out for herself. If she should not find it out for + herself, she will know it when I am married. And I hope you will not + consider me wanting in affection for you, papa, if I say it strikes me + that will be quite enough for Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ returned Mr Dorrit, ‘I am amazed, I am displeased by this—hum—this + capricious and unintelligible display of animosity towards—ha—Mrs + General.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do not, if you please, papa,’ urged Fanny, ‘call it animosity, because I + assure you I do not consider Mrs General worth my animosity.’ + </p> + <p> + At this, Mr Dorrit rose from his chair with a fixed look of severe + reproof, and remained standing in his dignity before his daughter. His + daughter, turning the bracelet on her arm, and now looking at him, and now + looking from him, said, ‘Very well, papa. I am truly sorry if you don’t + like it; but I can’t help it. I am not a child, and I am not Amy, and I + must speak.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ gasped Mr Dorrit, after a majestic silence, ‘if I request you to + remain here, while I formally announce to Mrs General, as an exemplary + lady, who is—hum—a trusted member of this family, the—ha—the + change that is contemplated among us; if I—ha—not only request + it, but—hum—insist upon it—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, papa,’ Fanny broke in with pointed significance, ‘if you make so much + of it as that, I have in duty nothing to do but comply. I hope I may have + my thoughts upon the subject, however, for I really cannot help it under + the circumstances.’ So, Fanny sat down with a meekness which, in the + junction of extremes, became defiance; and her father, either not deigning + to answer, or not knowing what to answer, summoned Mr Tinkler into his + presence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Tinkler, unused to receive such short orders in connection with the + fair varnisher, paused. Mr Dorrit, seeing the whole Marshalsea and all its + testimonials in the pause, instantly flew at him with, ‘How dare you, sir? + What do you mean?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ pleaded Mr Tinkler, ‘I was wishful to know—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You wished to know nothing, sir,’ cried Mr Dorrit, highly flushed. ‘Don’t + tell me you did. Ha. You didn’t. You are guilty of mockery, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I assure you, sir—’ Mr Tinkler began. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t assure me!’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘I will not be assured by a domestic. + You are guilty of mockery. You shall leave me—hum—the whole + establishment shall leave me. What are you waiting for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only for my orders, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s false,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘you have your orders. Ha—hum. My + compliments to Mrs General, and I beg the favour of her coming to me, if + quite convenient, for a few minutes. Those are your orders.’ + </p> + <p> + In his execution of this mission, Mr Tinkler perhaps expressed that Mr + Dorrit was in a raging fume. However that was, Mrs General’s skirts were + very speedily heard outside, coming along—one might almost have said + bouncing along—with unusual expedition. Albeit, they settled down at + the door and swept into the room with their customary coolness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs General,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘take a chair.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs General, with a graceful curve of acknowledgment, descended into the + chair which Mr Dorrit offered. + </p> + <p> + ‘Madam,’ pursued that gentleman, ‘as you have had the kindness to + undertake the—hum—formation of my daughters, and as I am + persuaded that nothing nearly affecting them can—ha—be + indifferent to you—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wholly impossible,’ said Mrs General in the calmest of ways. + </p> + <p> + ‘—I therefore wish to announce to you, madam, that my daughter now + present—’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs General made a slight inclination of her head to Fanny, who made a + very low inclination of her head to Mrs General, and came loftily upright + again. + </p> + <p> + ‘—That my daughter Fanny is—ha—contracted to be married + to Mr Sparkler, with whom you are acquainted. Hence, madam, you will be + relieved of half your difficult charge—ha—difficult charge.’ + Mr Dorrit repeated it with his angry eye on Fanny. ‘But not, I hope, to + the—hum—diminution of any other portion, direct or indirect, + of the footing you have at present the kindness to occupy in my family.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit,’ returned Mrs General, with her gloved hands resting on one + another in exemplary repose, ‘is ever considerate, and ever but too + appreciative of my friendly services.’ + </p> + <p> + (Miss Fanny coughed, as much as to say, ‘You are right.’) + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Dorrit has no doubt exercised the soundest discretion of which the + circumstances admitted, and I trust will allow me to offer her my sincere + congratulations. When free from the trammels of passion,’ Mrs General + closed her eyes at the word, as if she could not utter it, and see + anybody; ‘when occurring with the approbation of near relatives; and when + cementing the proud structure of a family edifice; these are usually + auspicious events. I trust Miss Dorrit will allow me to offer her my best + congratulations.’ + </p> + <p> + Here Mrs General stopped, and added internally, for the setting of her + face, ‘Papa, potatoes, poultry, Prunes, and prism.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit,’ she superadded aloud, ‘is ever most obliging; and for the + attention, and I will add distinction, of having this confidence imparted + to me by himself and Miss Dorrit at this early time, I beg to offer the + tribute of my thanks. My thanks, and my congratulations, are equally the + meed of Mr Dorrit and of Miss Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To me,’ observed Miss Fanny, ‘they are excessively gratifying—inexpressibly + so. The relief of finding that you have no objection to make, Mrs General, + quite takes a load off my mind, I am sure. I hardly know what I should + have done,’ said Fanny, ‘if you had interposed any objection, Mrs + General.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs General changed her gloves, as to the right glove being uppermost and + the left undermost, with a Prunes and Prism smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘To preserve your approbation, Mrs General,’ said Fanny, returning the + smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, ‘will of + course be the highest object of my married life; to lose it, would of + course be perfect wretchedness. I am sure your great kindness will not + object, and I hope papa will not object, to my correcting a small mistake + you have made, however. The best of us are so liable to mistakes, that + even you, Mrs General, have fallen into a little error. The attention and + distinction you have so impressively mentioned, Mrs General, as attaching + to this confidence, are, I have no doubt, of the most complimentary and + gratifying description; but they don’t at all proceed from me. The merit + of having consulted you on the subject would have been so great in me, + that I feel I must not lay claim to it when it really is not mine. It is + wholly papa’s. I am deeply obliged to you for your encouragement and + patronage, but it was papa who asked for it. I have to thank you, Mrs + General, for relieving my breast of a great weight by so handsomely giving + your consent to my engagement, but you have really nothing to thank me + for. I hope you will always approve of my proceedings after I have left + home and that my sister also may long remain the favoured object of your + condescension, Mrs General.’ + </p> + <p> + With this address, which was delivered in her politest manner, Fanny left + the room with an elegant and cheerful air—to tear up-stairs with a + flushed face as soon as she was out of hearing, pounce in upon her sister, + call her a little Dormouse, shake her for the better opening of her eyes, + tell her what had passed below, and ask her what she thought of Pa now? + </p> + <p> + Towards Mrs Merdle, the young lady comported herself with great + independence and self-possession; but not as yet with any more decided + opening of hostilities. Occasionally they had a slight skirmish, as when + Fanny considered herself patted on the back by that lady, or as when Mrs + Merdle looked particularly young and well; but Mrs Merdle always soon + terminated those passages of arms by sinking among her cushions with the + gracefullest indifference, and finding her attention otherwise engaged. + Society (for that mysterious creature sat upon the Seven Hills too) found + Miss Fanny vastly improved by her engagement. She was much more + accessible, much more free and engaging, much less exacting; insomuch that + she now entertained a host of followers and admirers, to the bitter + indignation of ladies with daughters to marry, who were to be regarded as + Having revolted from Society on the Miss Dorrit grievance, and erected a + rebellious standard. Enjoying the flutter she caused. Miss Dorrit not only + haughtily moved through it in her own proper person, but haughtily, even + Ostentatiously, led Mr Sparkler through it too: seeming to say to them + all, ‘If I think proper to march among you in triumphal procession + attended by this weak captive in bonds, rather than a stronger one, that + is my business. Enough that I choose to do it!’ Mr Sparkler for his part, + questioned nothing; but went wherever he was taken, did whatever he was + told, felt that for his bride-elect to be distinguished was for him to be + distinguished on the easiest terms, and was truly grateful for being so + openly acknowledged. + </p> + <p> + The winter passing on towards the spring while this condition of affairs + prevailed, it became necessary for Mr Sparkler to repair to England, and + take his appointed part in the expression and direction of its genius, + learning, commerce, spirit, and sense. The land of Shakespeare, Milton, + Bacon, Newton, Watt, the land of a host of past and present abstract + philosophers, natural philosophers, and subduers of Nature and Art in + their myriad forms, called to Mr Sparkler to come and take care of it, + lest it should perish. Mr Sparkler, unable to resist the agonised cry from + the depths of his country’s soul, declared that he must go. + </p> + <p> + It followed that the question was rendered pressing when, where, and how + Mr Sparkler should be married to the foremost girl in all this world with + no nonsense about her. Its solution, after some little mystery and + secrecy, Miss Fanny herself announced to her sister. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my child,’ said she, seeking her out one day, ‘I am going to tell + you something. It is only this moment broached; and naturally I hurry to + you the moment it <i>is</i> broached.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your marriage, Fanny?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My precious child,’ said Fanny, ‘don’t anticipate me. Let me impart my + confidence to you, you flurried little thing, in my own way. As to your + guess, if I answered it literally, I should answer no. For really it is + not my marriage that is in question, half as much as it is Edmund’s.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit looked, and perhaps not altogether without cause, somewhat + at a loss to understand this fine distinction. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am in no difficulty,’ exclaimed Fanny, ‘and in no hurry. I am not + wanted at any public office, or to give any vote anywhere else. But Edmund + is. And Edmund is deeply dejected at the idea of going away by himself, + and, indeed, I don’t like that he should be trusted by himself. For, if + it’s possible—and it generally is—to do a foolish thing, he is + sure to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + As she concluded this impartial summary of the reliance that might be + safely placed upon her future husband, she took off, with an air of + business, the bonnet she wore, and dangled it by its strings upon the + ground. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is far more Edmund’s question, therefore, than mine. However, we need + say no more about that. That is self-evident on the face of it. Well, my + dearest Amy! The point arising, is he to go by himself, or is he not to go + by himself, this other point arises, are we to be married here and + shortly, or are we to be married at home months hence?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I see I am going to lose you, Fanny.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a little thing you are,’ cried Fanny, half tolerant and half + impatient, ‘for anticipating one! Pray, my darling, hear me out. That + woman,’ she spoke of Mrs Merdle, of course, ‘remains here until after + Easter; so, in the case of my being married here and going to London with + Edmund, I should have the start of her. That is something. Further, Amy. + That woman being out of the way, I don’t know that I greatly object to Mr + Merdle’s proposal to Pa that Edmund and I should take up our abode in that + house—<i>you</i> know—where you once went with a dancer, my + dear, until our own house can be chosen and fitted up. Further still, Amy. + Papa having always intended to go to town himself, in the spring,—you + see, if Edmund and I were married here, we might go off to Florence, where + papa might join us, and we might all three travel home together. Mr Merdle + has entreated Pa to stay with him in that same mansion I have mentioned, + and I suppose he will. But he is master of his own actions; and upon that + point (which is not at all material) I can’t speak positively.’ + </p> + <p> + The difference between papa’s being master of his own actions and Mr + Sparkler’s being nothing of the sort, was forcibly expressed by Fanny in + her manner of stating the case. Not that her sister noticed it; for she + was divided between regret at the coming separation, and a lingering wish + that she had been included in the plans for visiting England. + </p> + <p> + ‘And these are the arrangements, Fanny dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Arrangements!’ repeated Fanny. ‘Now, really, child, you are a little + trying. You know I particularly guarded myself against laying my words + open to any such construction. What I said was, that certain questions + present themselves; and these are the questions.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s thoughtful eyes met hers, tenderly and quietly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my own sweet girl,’ said Fanny, weighing her bonnet by the strings + with considerable impatience, ‘it’s no use staring. A little owl could + stare. I look to you for advice, Amy. What do you advise me to do?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you think,’ asked Little Dorrit, persuasively, after a short + hesitation, ‘do you think, Fanny, that if you were to put it off for a few + months, it might be, considering all things, best?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, little Tortoise,’ retorted Fanny, with exceeding sharpness. ‘I don’t + think anything of the kind.’ + </p> + <p> + Here, she threw her bonnet from her altogether, and flounced into a chair. + But, becoming affectionate almost immediately, she flounced out of it + again, and kneeled down on the floor to take her sister, chair and all, in + her arms. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t suppose I am hasty or unkind, darling, because I really am not. But + you are such a little oddity! You make one bite your head off, when one + wants to be soothing beyond everything. Didn’t I tell you, you dearest + baby, that Edmund can’t be trusted by himself? And don’t you know that he + can’t?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes, Fanny. You said so, I know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And you know it, I know,’ retorted Fanny. ‘Well, my precious child! If he + is not to be trusted by himself, it follows, I suppose, that I should go + with him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It—seems so, love,’ said Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Therefore, having heard the arrangements that are feasible to carry out + that object, am I to understand, dearest Amy, that on the whole you advise + me to make them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It—seems so, love,’ said Little Dorrit again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well,’ cried Fanny with an air of resignation, ‘then I suppose it + must be done! I came to you, my sweet, the moment I saw the doubt, and the + necessity of deciding. I have now decided. So let it be.’ + </p> + <p> + After yielding herself up, in this pattern manner, to sisterly advice and + the force of circumstances, Fanny became quite benignant: as one who had + laid her own inclinations at the feet of her dearest friend, and felt a + glow of conscience in having made the sacrifice. ‘After all, my Amy,’ she + said to her sister, ‘you are the best of small creatures, and full of good + sense; and I don’t know what I shall ever do without you!’ + </p> + <p> + With which words she folded her in a closer embrace, and a really fond + one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not that I contemplate doing without You, Amy, by any means, for I hope + we shall ever be next to inseparable. And now, my pet, I am going to give + you a word of advice. When you are left alone here with Mrs General—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am to be left alone here with Mrs General?’ said Little Dorrit, + quietly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, of course, my precious, till papa comes back! Unless you call Edward + company, which he certainly is not, even when he is here, and still more + certainly is not when he is away at Naples or in Sicily. I was going to + say—but you are such a beloved little Marplot for putting one out—when + you are left alone here with Mrs General, Amy, don’t you let her slide + into any sort of artful understanding with you that she is looking after + Pa, or that Pa is looking after her. She will if she can. I know her sly + manner of feeling her way with those gloves of hers. But don’t you + comprehend her on any account. And if Pa should tell you when he comes + back, that he has it in contemplation to make Mrs General your mama (which + is not the less likely because I am going away), my advice to you is, that + you say at once, “Papa, I beg to object most strongly. Fanny cautioned me + about this, and she objected, and I object.” I don’t mean to say that any + objection from you, Amy, is likely to be of the smallest effect, or that I + think you likely to make it with any degree of firmness. But there is a + principle involved—a filial principle—and I implore you not to + submit to be mother-in-lawed by Mrs General, without asserting it in + making every one about you as uncomfortable as possible. I don’t expect + you to stand by it—indeed, I know you won’t, Pa being concerned—but + I wish to rouse you to a sense of duty. As to any help from me, or as to + any opposition that I can offer to such a match, you shall not be left in + the lurch, my love. Whatever weight I may derive from my position as a + married girl not wholly devoid of attractions—used, as that position + always shall be, to oppose that woman—I will bring to bear, you May + depend upon it, on the head and false hair (for I am confident it’s not + all real, ugly as it is and unlikely as it appears that any One in their + Senses would go to the expense of buying it) of Mrs General!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit received this counsel without venturing to oppose it but + without giving Fanny any reason to believe that she intended to act upon + it. Having now, as it were, formally wound up her single life and arranged + her worldly affairs, Fanny proceeded with characteristic ardour to prepare + for the serious change in her condition. + </p> + <p> + The preparation consisted in the despatch of her maid to Paris under the + protection of the Courier, for the purchase of that outfit for a bride on + which it would be extremely low, in the present narrative, to bestow an + English name, but to which (on a vulgar principle it observes of adhering + to the language in which it professes to be written) it declines to give a + French one. The rich and beautiful wardrobe purchased by these agents, in + the course of a few weeks made its way through the intervening country, + bristling with custom-houses, garrisoned by an immense army of shabby + mendicants in uniform who incessantly repeated the Beggar’s Petition over + it, as if every individual warrior among them were the ancient Belisarius: + and of whom there were so many Legions, that unless the Courier had + expended just one bushel and a half of silver money relieving their + distresses, they would have worn the wardrobe out before it got to Rome, + by turning it over and over. Through all such dangers, however, it was + triumphantly brought, inch by inch, and arrived at its journey’s end in + fine condition. + </p> + <p> + There it was exhibited to select companies of female viewers, in whose + gentle bosoms it awakened implacable feelings. Concurrently, active + preparations were made for the day on which some of its treasures were to + be publicly displayed. Cards of breakfast-invitation were sent out to half + the English in the city of Romulus; the other half made arrangements to be + under arms, as criticising volunteers, at various outer points of the + solemnity. The most high and illustrious English Signor Edgardo Dorrit, + came post through the deep mud and ruts (from forming a surface under the + improving Neapolitan nobility), to grace the occasion. The best hotel and + all its culinary myrmidons, were set to work to prepare the feast. The + drafts of Mr Dorrit almost constituted a run on the Torlonia Bank. The + British Consul hadn’t had such a marriage in the whole of his Consularity. + </p> + <p> + The day came, and the She-Wolf in the Capitol might have snarled with envy + to see how the Island Savages contrived these things now-a-days. The + murderous-headed statues of the wicked Emperors of the Soldiery, whom + sculptors had not been able to flatter out of their villainous + hideousness, might have come off their pedestals to run away with the + Bride. The choked old fountain, where erst the gladiators washed, might + have leaped into life again to honour the ceremony. The Temple of Vesta + might have sprung up anew from its ruins, expressly to lend its + countenance to the occasion. Might have done; but did not. Like sentient + things—even like the lords and ladies of creation sometimes—might + have done much, but did nothing. The celebration went off with admirable + pomp; monks in black robes, white robes, and russet robes stopped to look + after the carriages; wandering peasants in fleeces of sheep, begged and + piped under the house-windows; the English volunteers defiled; the day + wore on to the hour of vespers; the festival wore away; the thousand + churches rang their bells without any reference to it; and St Peter denied + that he had anything to do with it. + </p> + <p> + But by that time the Bride was near the end of the first day’s journey + towards Florence. It was the peculiarity of the nuptials that they were + all Bride. Nobody noticed the Bridegroom. Nobody noticed the first + Bridesmaid. Few could have seen Little Dorrit (who held that post) for the + glare, even supposing many to have sought her. So, the Bride had mounted + into her handsome chariot, incidentally accompanied by the Bridegroom; and + after rolling for a few minutes smoothly over a fair pavement, had begun + to jolt through a Slough of Despond, and through a long, long avenue of + wrack and ruin. Other nuptial carriages are said to have gone the same + road, before and since. + </p> + <p> + If Little Dorrit found herself left a little lonely and a little low that + night, nothing would have done so much against her feeling of depression + as the being able to sit at work by her father, as in the old time, and + help him to his supper and his rest. But that was not to be thought of + now, when they sat in the state-equipage with Mrs General on the + coach-box. And as to supper! If Mr Dorrit had wanted supper, there was an + Italian cook and there was a Swiss confectioner, who must have put on caps + as high as the Pope’s Mitre, and have performed the mysteries of + Alchemists in a copper-saucepaned laboratory below, before he could have + got it. + </p> + <p> + He was sententious and didactic that night. If he had been simply loving, + he would have done Little Dorrit more good; but she accepted him as he was—when + had she not accepted him as he was!—and made the most and best of + him. Mrs General at length retired. Her retirement for the night was + always her frostiest ceremony, as if she felt it necessary that the human + imagination should be chilled into stone to prevent its following her. + When she had gone through her rigid preliminaries, amounting to a sort of + genteel platoon-exercise, she withdrew. Little Dorrit then put her arm + round her father’s neck, to bid him good night. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my dear,’ said Mr Dorrit, taking her by the hand, ‘this is the close + of a day, that has—ha—greatly impressed and gratified me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A little tired you, dear, too?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘no: I am not sensible of fatigue when it arises + from an occasion so—hum—replete with gratification of the + purest kind.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit was glad to find him in such heart, and smiled from her own + heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ he continued, ‘this is an occasion—ha—teeming with + a good example. With a good example, my favourite and attached child—hum—to + you.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, fluttered by his words, did not know what to say, though he + stopped as if he expected her to say something. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy,’ he resumed; ‘your dear sister, our Fanny, has contracted ha hum—a + marriage, eminently calculated to extend the basis of our—ha—connection, + and to—hum—consolidate our social relations. My love, I trust + that the time is not far distant when some—ha—eligible partner + may be found for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no! Let me stay with you. I beg and pray that I may stay with you! I + want nothing but to stay and take care of you!’ + </p> + <p> + She said it like one in sudden alarm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Nay, Amy, Amy,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘This is weak and foolish, weak and + foolish. You have a—ha—responsibility imposed upon you by your + position. It is to develop that position, and be—hum—worthy of + that position. As to taking care of me; I can—ha—take care of + myself. Or,’ he added after a moment, ‘if I should need to be taken care + of, I—hum—can, with the—ha—blessing of Providence, + be taken care of, I—ha hum—I cannot, my dear child, think of + engrossing, and—ha—as it were, sacrificing you.’ + </p> + <p> + O what a time of day at which to begin that profession of self-denial; at + which to make it, with an air of taking credit for it; at which to believe + it, if such a thing could be! + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t speak, Amy. I positively say I cannot do it. I—ha—must + not do it. My—hum—conscience would not allow it. I therefore, + my love, take the opportunity afforded by this gratifying and impressive + occasion of—ha—solemnly remarking, that it is now a cherished + wish and purpose of mine to see you—ha—eligibly (I repeat + eligibly) married.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh no, dear! Pray!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘I am well persuaded that if the topic were + referred to any person of superior social knowledge, of superior delicacy + and sense—let us say, for instance, to—ha—Mrs General—that + there would not be two opinions as to the—hum—affectionate + character and propriety of my sentiments. But, as I know your loving and + dutiful nature from—hum—from experience, I am quite satisfied + that it is necessary to say no more. I have—hum—no husband to + propose at present, my dear: I have not even one in view. I merely wish + that we should—ha—understand each other. Hum. Good night, my + dear and sole remaining daughter. Good night. God bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + If the thought ever entered Little Dorrit’s head that night, that he could + give her up lightly now in his prosperity, and when he had it in his mind + to replace her with a second wife, she drove it away. Faithful to him + still, as in the worst times through which she had borne him + single-handed, she drove the thought away; and entertained no harder + reflection, in her tearful unrest, than that he now saw everything through + their wealth, and through the care he always had upon him that they should + continue rich, and grow richer. + </p> + <p> + They sat in their equipage of state, with Mrs General on the box, for + three weeks longer, and then he started for Florence to join Fanny. Little + Dorrit would have been glad to bear him company so far, only for the sake + of her own love, and then to have turned back alone, thinking of dear + England. But, though the Courier had gone on with the Bride, the Valet was + next in the line; and the succession would not have come to her, as long + as any one could be got for money. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General took life easily—as easily, that is, as she could take + anything—when the Roman establishment remained in their sole + occupation; and Little Dorrit would often ride out in a hired carriage + that was left them, and alight alone and wander among the ruins of old + Rome. The ruins of the vast old Amphitheatre, of the old Temples, of the + old commemorative Arches, of the old trodden highways, of the old tombs, + besides being what they were, to her were ruins of the old Marshalsea—ruins + of her own old life—ruins of the faces and forms that of old peopled + it—ruins of its loves, hopes, cares, and joys. Two ruined spheres of + action and suffering were before the solitary girl often sitting on some + broken fragment; and in the lonely places, under the blue sky, she saw + them both together. + </p> + <p> + Up, then, would come Mrs General; taking all the colour out of everything, + as Nature and Art had taken it out of herself; writing Prunes and Prism, + in Mr Eustace’s text, wherever she could lay a hand; looking everywhere + for Mr Eustace and company, and seeing nothing else; scratching up the + driest little bones of antiquity, and bolting them whole without any human + visitings—like a Ghoule in gloves. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0052"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 16. Getting on + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he newly married pair, on their arrival in Harley Street, Cavendish + Square, London, were received by the Chief Butler. That great man was not + interested in them, but on the whole endured them. People must continue to + be married and given in marriage, or Chief Butlers would not be wanted. As + nations are made to be taxed, so families are made to be butlered. The + Chief Butler, no doubt, reflected that the course of nature required the + wealthy population to be kept up, on his account. + </p> + <p> + He therefore condescended to look at the carriage from the Hall-door + without frowning at it, and said, in a very handsome way, to one of his + men, ‘Thomas, help with the luggage.’ He even escorted the Bride up-stairs + into Mr Merdle’s presence; but this must be considered as an act of homage + to the sex (of which he was an admirer, being notoriously captivated by + the charms of a certain Duchess), and not as a committal of himself with + the family. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle was slinking about the hearthrug, waiting to welcome Mrs + Sparkler. His hand seemed to retreat up his sleeve as he advanced to do + so, and he gave her such a superfluity of coat-cuff that it was like being + received by the popular conception of Guy Fawkes. When he put his lips to + hers, besides, he took himself into custody by the wrists, and backed + himself among the ottomans and chairs and tables as if he were his own + Police officer, saying to himself, ‘Now, none of that! Come! I’ve got you, + you know, and you go quietly along with me!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Sparkler, installed in the rooms of state—the innermost + sanctuary of down, silk, chintz, and fine linen—felt that so far her + triumph was good, and her way made, step by step. On the day before her + marriage, she had bestowed on Mrs Merdle’s maid with an air of gracious + indifference, in Mrs Merdle’s presence, a trifling little keepsake + (bracelet, bonnet, and two dresses, all new) about four times as valuable + as the present formerly made by Mrs Merdle to her. She was now established + in Mrs Merdle’s own rooms, to which some extra touches had been given to + render them more worthy of her occupation. In her mind’s eye, as she + lounged there, surrounded by every luxurious accessory that wealth could + obtain or invention devise, she saw the fair bosom that beat in unison + with the exultation of her thoughts, competing with the bosom that had + been famous so long, outshining it, and deposing it. Happy? Fanny must + have been happy. No more wishing one’s self dead now. + </p> + <p> + The Courier had not approved of Mr Dorrit’s staying in the house of a + friend, and had preferred to take him to an hotel in Brook Street, + Grosvenor Square. Mr Merdle ordered his carriage to be ready early in the + morning that he might wait upon Mr Dorrit immediately after breakfast. + </p> + <p> + Bright the carriage looked, sleek the horses looked, gleaming the harness + looked, luscious and lasting the liveries looked. A rich, responsible + turn-out. An equipage for a Merdle. Early people looked after it as it + rattled along the streets, and said, with awe in their breath, ‘There he + goes!’ + </p> + <p> + There he went, until Brook Street stopped him. Then, forth from its + magnificent case came the jewel; not lustrous in itself, but quite the + contrary. + </p> + <p> + Commotion in the office of the hotel. Merdle! The landlord, though a + gentleman of a haughty spirit who had just driven a pair of thorough-bred + horses into town, turned out to show him up-stairs. The clerks and + servants cut him off by back-passages, and were found accidentally + hovering in doorways and angles, that they might look upon him. Merdle! O + ye sun, moon, and stars, the great man! The rich man, who had in a manner + revised the New Testament, and already entered into the kingdom of Heaven. + The man who could have any one he chose to dine with him, and who had made + the money! As he went up the stairs, people were already posted on the + lower stairs, that his shadow might fall upon them when he came down. So + were the sick brought out and laid in the track of the Apostle—who + had <i>not</i> got into the good society, and had <i>not</i> made the + money. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, dressing-gowned and newspapered, was at his breakfast. The + Courier, with agitation in his voice, announced ‘Miss Mairdale!’ Mr + Dorrit’s overwrought heart bounded as he leaped up. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Merdle, this is—ha—indeed an honour. Permit me to express + the—hum—sense, the high sense, I entertain of this—ha + hum—highly gratifying act of attention. I am well aware, sir, of the + many demands upon your time, and its—ha—enormous value,’ Mr + Dorrit could not say enormous roundly enough for his own satisfaction. + ‘That you should—ha—at this early hour, bestow any of your + priceless time upon me, is—ha—a compliment that I acknowledge + with the greatest esteem.’ Mr Dorrit positively trembled in addressing the + great man. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle uttered, in his subdued, inward, hesitating voice, a few sounds + that were to no purpose whatever; and finally said, ‘I am glad to see you, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very kind,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Truly kind.’ By this time the + visitor was seated, and was passing his great hand over his exhausted + forehead. ‘You are well, I hope, Mr Merdle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am as well as I—yes, I am as well as I usually am,’ said Mr + Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your occupations must be immense.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tolerably so. But—Oh dear no, there’s not much the matter with <i>me</i>,’ + said Mr Merdle, looking round the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘A little dyspeptic?’ Mr Dorrit hinted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Very likely. But I—Oh, I am well enough,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + There were black traces on his lips where they met, as if a little train + of gunpowder had been fired there; and he looked like a man who, if his + natural temperament had been quicker, would have been very feverish that + morning. This, and his heavy way of passing his hand over his forehead, + had prompted Mr Dorrit’s solicitous inquiries. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle,’ Mr Dorrit insinuatingly pursued, ‘I left, as you will be + prepared to hear, the—ha—observed of all observers, the—hum—admired + of all admirers, the leading fascination and charm of Society in Rome. She + was looking wonderfully well when I quitted it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘is generally considered a very attractive + woman. And she is, no doubt. I am sensible of her being so.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who can be otherwise?’ responded Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle turned his tongue in his closed mouth—it seemed rather a + stiff and unmanageable tongue—moistened his lips, passed his hand + over his forehead again, and looked all round the room again, principally + under the chairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘But,’ he said, looking Mr Dorrit in the face for the first time, and + immediately afterwards dropping his eyes to the buttons of Mr Dorrit’s + waistcoat; ‘if we speak of attractions, your daughter ought to be the + subject of our conversation. She is extremely beautiful. Both in face and + figure, she is quite uncommon. When the young people arrived last night, I + was really surprised to see such charms.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit’s gratification was such that he said—ha—he could + not refrain from telling Mr Merdle verbally, as he had already done by + letter, what honour and happiness he felt in this union of their families. + And he offered his hand. Mr Merdle looked at the hand for a little while, + took it on his for a moment as if his were a yellow salver or fish-slice, + and then returned it to Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought I would drive round the first thing,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘to offer + my services, in case I can do anything for you; and to say that I hope you + will at least do me the honour of dining with me to-day, and every day + when you are not better engaged during your stay in town.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was enraptured by these attentions. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you stay long, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not at present the intention,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘of—ha—exceeding + a fortnight.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s a very short stay, after so long a journey,’ returned Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hum. Yes,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘But the truth is—ha—my dear Mr + Merdle, that I find a foreign life so well suited to my health and taste, + that I—hum—have but two objects in my present visit to London. + First, the—ha—the distinguished happiness and—ha—privilege + which I now enjoy and appreciate; secondly, the arrangement—hum—the + laying out, that is to say, in the best way, of—ha, hum—my + money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ said Mr Merdle, after turning his tongue again, ‘if I can be + of any use to you in that respect, you may command me.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit’s speech had had more hesitation in it than usual, as he + approached the ticklish topic, for he was not perfectly clear how so + exalted a potentate might take it. He had doubts whether reference to any + individual capital, or fortune, might not seem a wretchedly retail affair + to so wholesale a dealer. Greatly relieved by Mr Merdle’s affable offer of + assistance, he caught at it directly, and heaped acknowledgments upon him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I scarcely—ha—dared,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘I assure you, to hope + for so—hum—vast an advantage as your direct advice and + assistance. Though of course I should, under any circumstances, like the—ha, + hum—rest of the civilised world, have followed in Mr Merdle’s + train.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know we may almost say we are related, sir,’ said Mr Merdle, + curiously interested in the pattern of the carpet, ‘and, therefore, you + may consider me at your service.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ha. Very handsome, indeed!’ cried Mr Dorrit. ‘Ha. Most handsome!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It would not,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘be at the present moment easy for what I + may call a mere outsider to come into any of the good things—of + course I speak of my own good things—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course, of course!’ cried Mr Dorrit, in a tone implying that there + were no other good things. + </p> + <p> + ‘—Unless at a high price. At what we are accustomed to term a very + long figure.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit laughed in the buoyancy of his spirit. Ha, ha, ha! Long figure. + Good. Ha. Very expressive to be sure! + </p> + <p> + ‘However,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I do generally retain in my own hands the + power of exercising some preference—people in general would be + pleased to call it favour—as a sort of compliment for my care and + trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And public spirit and genius,’ Mr Dorrit suggested. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle, with a dry, swallowing action, seemed to dispose of those + qualities like a bolus; then added, ‘As a sort of return for it. I will + see, if you please, how I can exert this limited power (for people are + jealous, and it is limited), to your advantage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are very good,’ replied Mr Dorrit. ‘You are <i>very</i> good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘there must be the strictest integrity and + uprightness in these transactions; there must be the purest faith between + man and man; there must be unimpeached and unimpeachable confidence; or + business could not be carried on.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit hailed these generous sentiments with fervour. + </p> + <p> + ‘Therefore,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I can only give you a preference to a + certain extent.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I perceive. To a defined extent,’ observed Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Defined extent. And perfectly above-board. As to my advice, however,’ + said Mr Merdle, ‘that is another matter. That, such as it is—’ + </p> + <p> + Oh! Such as it was! (Mr Dorrit could not bear the faintest appearance of + its being depreciated, even by Mr Merdle himself.) + </p> + <p> + ‘—That, there is nothing in the bonds of spotless honour between + myself and my fellow-man to prevent my parting with, if I choose. And + that,’ said Mr Merdle, now deeply intent upon a dust-cart that was passing + the windows, ‘shall be at your command whenever you think proper.’ + </p> + <p> + New acknowledgments from Mr Dorrit. New passages of Mr Merdle’s hand over + his forehead. Calm and silence. Contemplation of Mr Dorrit’s waistcoat + buttons by Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘My time being rather precious,’ said Mr Merdle, suddenly getting up, as + if he had been waiting in the interval for his legs and they had just + come, ‘I must be moving towards the City. Can I take you anywhere, sir? I + shall be happy to set you down, or send you on. My carriage is at your + disposal.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit bethought himself that he had business at his banker’s. His + banker’s was in the City. That was fortunate; Mr Merdle would take him + into the City. But, surely, he might not detain Mr Merdle while he assumed + his coat? Yes, he might and must; Mr Merdle insisted on it. So Mr Dorrit, + retiring into the next room, put himself under the hands of his valet, and + in five minutes came back glorious. + </p> + <p> + Then said Mr Merdle, ‘Allow me, sir. Take my arm!’ Then leaning on Mr + Merdle’s arm, did Mr Dorrit descend the staircase, seeing the worshippers + on the steps, and feeling that the light of Mr Merdle shone by reflection + in himself. Then the carriage, and the ride into the City; and the people + who looked at them; and the hats that flew off grey heads; and the general + bowing and crouching before this wonderful mortal the like of which + prostration of spirit was not to be seen—no, by high Heaven, no! It + may be worth thinking of by Fawners of all denominations—in + Westminster Abbey and Saint Paul’s Cathedral put together, on any Sunday + in the year. It was a rapturous dream to Mr Dorrit to find himself set + aloft in this public car of triumph, making a magnificent progress to that + befitting destination, the golden Street of the Lombards. + </p> + <p> + There Mr Merdle insisted on alighting and going his way a-foot, and + leaving his poor equipage at Mr Dorrit’s disposition. So the dream + increased in rapture when Mr Dorrit came out of the bank alone, and people + looked at <i>him</i> in default of Mr Merdle, and when, with the ears of + his mind, he heard the frequent exclamation as he rolled glibly along, ‘A + wonderful man to be Mr Merdle’s friend!’ + </p> + <p> + At dinner that day, although the occasion was not foreseen and provided + for, a brilliant company of such as are not made of the dust of the earth, + but of some superior article for the present unknown, shed their lustrous + benediction upon Mr Dorrit’s daughter’s marriage. And Mr Dorrit’s daughter + that day began, in earnest, her competition with that woman not present; + and began it so well that Mr Dorrit could all but have taken his + affidavit, if required, that Mrs Sparkler had all her life been lying at + full length in the lap of luxury, and had never heard of such a rough word + in the English tongue as Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + Next day, and the day after, and every day, all graced by more dinner + company, cards descended on Mr Dorrit like theatrical snow. As the friend + and relative by marriage of the illustrious Merdle, Bar, Bishop, Treasury, + Chorus, Everybody, wanted to make or improve Mr Dorrit’s acquaintance. In + Mr Merdle’s heap of offices in the City, when Mr Dorrit appeared at any of + them on his business taking him Eastward (which it frequently did, for it + throve amazingly), the name of Dorrit was always a passport to the great + presence of Merdle. So the dream increased in rapture every hour, as Mr + Dorrit felt increasingly sensible that this connection had brought him + forward indeed. + </p> + <p> + Only one thing sat otherwise than auriferously, and at the same time + lightly, on Mr Dorrit’s mind. It was the Chief Butler. That stupendous + character looked at him, in the course of his official looking at the + dinners, in a manner that Mr Dorrit considered questionable. He looked at + him, as he passed through the hall and up the staircase, going to dinner, + with a glazed fixedness that Mr Dorrit did not like. Seated at table in + the act of drinking, Mr Dorrit still saw him through his wine-glass, + regarding him with a cold and ghostly eye. It misgave him that the Chief + Butler must have known a Collegian, and must have seen him in the College—perhaps + had been presented to him. He looked as closely at the Chief Butler as + such a man could be looked at, and yet he did not recall that he had ever + seen him elsewhere. Ultimately he was inclined to think that there was no + reverence in the man, no sentiment in the great creature. But he was not + relieved by that; for, let him think what he would, the Chief Butler had + him in his supercilious eye, even when that eye was on the plate and other + table-garniture; and he never let him out of it. To hint to him that this + confinement in his eye was disagreeable, or to ask him what he meant, was + an act too daring to venture upon; his severity with his employers and + their visitors being terrific, and he never permitting himself to be + approached with the slightest liberty. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0053"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 17. Missing + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he term of Mr Dorrit’s visit was within two days of being out, and he was + about to dress for another inspection by the Chief Butler (whose victims + were always dressed expressly for him), when one of the servants of the + hotel presented himself bearing a card. Mr Dorrit, taking it, read: + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Finching.’ + </p> + <p> + The servant waited in speechless deference. + </p> + <p> + ‘Man, man,’ said Mr Dorrit, turning upon him with grievous indignation, + ‘explain your motive in bringing me this ridiculous name. I am wholly + unacquainted with it. Finching, sir?’ said Mr Dorrit, perhaps avenging + himself on the Chief Butler by Substitute. ‘Ha! What do you mean by + Finching?’ + </p> + <p> + The man, man, seemed to mean Flinching as much as anything else, for he + backed away from Mr Dorrit’s severe regard, as he replied, ‘A lady, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know no such lady, sir,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Take this card away. I know + no Finching of either sex.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask your pardon, sir. The lady said she was aware she might be unknown by + name. But she begged me to say, sir, that she had formerly the honour of + being acquainted with Miss Dorrit. The lady said, sir, the youngest Miss + Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit knitted his brows and rejoined, after a moment or two, ‘Inform + Mrs Finching, sir,’ emphasising the name as if the innocent man were + solely responsible for it, ‘that she can come up.’ + </p> + <p> + He had reflected, in his momentary pause, that unless she were admitted + she might leave some message, or might say something below, having a + disgraceful reference to that former state of existence. Hence the + concession, and hence the appearance of Flora, piloted in by the man, man. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not the pleasure,’ said Mr Dorrit, standing with the card in his + hand, and with an air which imported that it would scarcely have been a + first-class pleasure if he had had it, ‘of knowing either this name, or + yourself, madam. Place a chair, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + The responsible man, with a start, obeyed, and went out on tiptoe. Flora, + putting aside her veil with a bashful tremor upon her, proceeded to + introduce herself. At the same time a singular combination of perfumes was + diffused through the room, as if some brandy had been put by mistake in a + lavender-water bottle, or as if some lavender-water had been put by + mistake in a brandy-bottle. + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg Mr Dorrit to offer a thousand apologies and indeed they would be + far too few for such an intrusion which I know must appear extremely bold + in a lady and alone too, but I thought it best upon the whole however + difficult and even apparently improper though Mr F.‘s Aunt would have + willingly accompanied me and as a character of great force and spirit + would probably have struck one possessed of such a knowledge of life as no + doubt with so many changes must have been acquired, for Mr F. himself said + frequently that although well educated in the neighbourhood of Blackheath + at as high as eighty guineas which is a good deal for parents and the + plate kept back too on going away but that is more a meanness than its + value that he had learnt more in his first years as a commercial traveller + with a large commission on the sale of an article that nobody would hear + of much less buy which preceded the wine trade a long time than in the + whole six years in that academy conducted by a college Bachelor, though + why a Bachelor more clever than a married man I do not see and never did + but pray excuse me that is not the point.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit stood rooted to the carpet, a statue of mystification. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must openly admit that I have no pretensions,’ said Flora, ‘but having + known the dear little thing which under altered circumstances appears a + liberty but is not so intended and Goodness knows there was no favour in + half-a-crown a-day to such a needle as herself but quite the other way and + as to anything lowering in it far from it the labourer is worthy of his + hire and I am sure I only wish he got it oftener and more animal food and + less rheumatism in the back and legs poor soul.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, recovering his breath by a great effort, as the + relict of the late Mr Finching stopped to take hers; ‘madam,’ said Mr + Dorrit, very red in the face, ‘if I understand you to refer to—ha—to + anything in the antecedents of—hum—a daughter of mine, + involving—ha hum—daily compensation, madam, I beg to observe + that the—ha—fact, assuming it—ha—to be fact, never + was within my knowledge. Hum. I should not have permitted it. Ha. Never! + Never!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unnecessary to pursue the subject,’ returned Flora, ‘and would not have + mentioned it on any account except as supposing it a favourable and only + letter of introduction but as to being fact no doubt whatever and you may + set your mind at rest for the very dress I have on now can prove it and + sweetly made though there is no denying that it would tell better on a + better figure for my own is much too fat though how to bring it down I + know not, pray excuse me I am roving off again.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit backed to his chair in a stony way, and seated himself, as Flora + gave him a softening look and played with her parasol. + </p> + <p> + ‘The dear little thing,’ said Flora, ‘having gone off perfectly limp and + white and cold in my own house or at least papa’s for though not a + freehold still a long lease at a peppercorn on the morning when Arthur—foolish + habit of our youthful days and Mr Clennam far more adapted to existing + circumstances particularly addressing a stranger and that stranger a + gentleman in an elevated station—communicated the glad tidings + imparted by a person of name of Pancks emboldens me.’ + </p> + <p> + At the mention of these two names, Mr Dorrit frowned, stared, frowned + again, hesitated with his fingers at his lips, as he had hesitated long + ago, and said, ‘Do me the favour to—ha—state your pleasure, + madam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit,’ said Flora, ‘you are very kind in giving me permission and + highly natural it seems to me that you should be kind for though more + stately I perceive a likeness filled out of course but a likeness still, + the object of my intruding is my own without the slightest consultation + with any human being and most decidedly not with Arthur—pray excuse + me Doyce and Clennam I don’t know what I am saying Mr Clennam solus—for + to put that individual linked by a golden chain to a purple time when all + was ethereal out of any anxiety would be worth to me the ransom of a + monarch not that I have the least idea how much that would come to but + using it as the total of all I have in the world and more.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, without greatly regarding the earnestness of these latter + words, repeated, ‘State your pleasure, madam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not likely I well know,’ said Flora, ‘but it’s possible and being + possible when I had the gratification of reading in the papers that you + had arrived from Italy and were going back I made up my mind to try it for + you might come across him or hear something of him and if so what a + blessing and relief to all!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Allow me to ask, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, with his ideas in wild + confusion, ‘to whom—ha—TO WHOM,’ he repeated it with a raised + voice in mere desperation, ‘you at present allude?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To the foreigner from Italy who disappeared in the City as no doubt you + have read in the papers equally with myself,’ said Flora, ‘not referring + to private sources by the name of Pancks from which one gathers what + dreadfully ill-natured things some people are wicked enough to whisper + most likely judging others by themselves and what the uneasiness and + indignation of Arthur—quite unable to overcome it Doyce and Clennam—cannot + fail to be.’ + </p> + <p> + It happened, fortunately for the elucidation of any intelligible result, + that Mr Dorrit had heard or read nothing about the matter. This caused Mrs + Finching, with many apologies for being in great practical difficulties as + to finding the way to her pocket among the stripes of her dress at length + to produce a police handbill, setting forth that a foreign gentleman of + the name of Blandois, last from Venice, had unaccountably disappeared on + such a night in such a part of the city of London; that he was known to + have entered such a house, at such an hour; that he was stated by the + inmates of that house to have left it, about so many minutes before + midnight; and that he had never been beheld since. This, with exact + particulars of time and locality, and with a good detailed description of + the foreign gentleman who had so mysteriously vanished, Mr Dorrit read at + large. + </p> + <p> + ‘Blandois!’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Venice! And this description! I know this + gentleman. He has been in my house. He is intimately acquainted with a + gentleman of good family (but in indifferent circumstances), of whom I am + a—hum—patron.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then my humble and pressing entreaty is the more,’ said Flora, ‘that in + travelling back you will have the kindness to look for this foreign + gentleman along all the roads and up and down all the turnings and to make + inquiries for him at all the hotels and orange-trees and vineyards and + volcanoes and places for he must be somewhere and why doesn’t he come + forward and say he’s there and clear all parties up?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, referring to the handbill again, ‘who is + Clennam and Co.? Ha. I see the name mentioned here, in connection with the + occupation of the house which Monsieur Blandois was seen to enter: who is + Clennam and Co.? Is it the individual of whom I had formerly—hum—some—ha—slight + transitory knowledge, and to whom I believe you have referred? Is it—ha—that + person?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a very different person indeed,’ replied Flora, ‘with no limbs and + wheels instead and the grimmest of women though his mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Clennam and Co. a—hum—a mother!’ exclaimed Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘And an old man besides,’ said Flora. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit looked as if he must immediately be driven out of his mind by + this account. Neither was it rendered more favourable to sanity by Flora’s + dashing into a rapid analysis of Mr Flintwinch’s cravat, and describing + him, without the lightest boundary line of separation between his identity + and Mrs Clennam’s, as a rusty screw in gaiters. Which compound of man and + woman, no limbs, wheels, rusty screw, grimness, and gaiters, so completely + stupefied Mr Dorrit, that he was a spectacle to be pitied. + </p> + <p> + ‘But I would not detain you one moment longer,’ said Flora, upon whom his + condition wrought its effect, though she was quite unconscious of having + produced it, ‘if you would have the goodness to give your promise as a + gentleman that both in going back to Italy and in Italy too you would look + for this Mr Blandois high and low and if you found or heard of him make + him come forward for the clearing of all parties.’ + </p> + <p> + By that time Mr Dorrit had so far recovered from his bewilderment, as to + be able to say, in a tolerably connected manner, that he should consider + that his duty. Flora was delighted with her success, and rose to take her + leave. + </p> + <p> + ‘With a million thanks,’ said she, ‘and my address upon my card in case of + anything to be communicated personally, I will not send my love to the + dear little thing for it might not be acceptable, and indeed there is no + dear little thing left in the transformation so why do it but both myself + and Mr F.‘s Aunt ever wish her well and lay no claim to any favour on our + side you may be sure of that but quite the other way for what she + undertook to do she did and that is more than a great many of us do, not + to say anything of her doing it as well as it could be done and I myself + am one of them for I have said ever since I began to recover the blow of + Mr F’s death that I would learn the Organ of which I am extremely fond but + of which I am ashamed to say I do not yet know a note, good evening!’ + </p> + <p> + When Mr Dorrit, who attended her to the room-door, had had a little time + to collect his senses, he found that the interview had summoned back + discarded reminiscences which jarred with the Merdle dinner-table. He + wrote and sent off a brief note excusing himself for that day, and ordered + dinner presently in his own rooms at the hotel. He had another reason for + this. His time in London was very nearly out, and was anticipated by + engagements; his plans were made for returning; and he thought it behoved + his importance to pursue some direct inquiry into the Blandois + disappearance, and be in a condition to carry back to Mr Henry Gowan the + result of his own personal investigation. He therefore resolved that he + would take advantage of that evening’s freedom to go down to Clennam and + Co.‘s, easily to be found by the direction set forth in the handbill; and + see the place, and ask a question or two there himself. + </p> + <p> + Having dined as plainly as the establishment and the Courier would let + him, and having taken a short sleep by the fire for his better recovery + from Mrs Finching, he set out in a hackney-cabriolet alone. The deep bell + of St Paul’s was striking nine as he passed under the shadow of Temple + Bar, headless and forlorn in these degenerate days. + </p> + <p> + As he approached his destination through the by-streets and water-side + ways, that part of London seemed to him an uglier spot at such an hour + than he had ever supposed it to be. Many long years had passed since he + had seen it; he had never known much of it; and it wore a mysterious and + dismal aspect in his eyes. So powerfully was his imagination impressed by + it, that when his driver stopped, after having asked the way more than + once, and said to the best of his belief this was the gateway they wanted, + Mr Dorrit stood hesitating, with the coach-door in his hand, half afraid + of the dark look of the place. + </p> + <p> + Truly, it looked as gloomy that night as even it had ever looked. Two of + the handbills were posted on the entrance wall, one on either side, and as + the lamp flickered in the night air, shadows passed over them, not unlike + the shadows of fingers following the lines. A watch was evidently kept + upon the place. As Mr Dorrit paused, a man passed in from over the way, + and another man passed out from some dark corner within; and both looked + at him in passing, and both remained standing about. + </p> + <p> + As there was only one house in the enclosure, there was no room for + uncertainty, so he went up the steps of that house and knocked. There was + a dim light in two windows on the first-floor. The door gave back a + dreary, vacant sound, as though the house were empty; but it was not, for + a light was visible, and a step was audible, almost directly. They both + came to the door, and a chain grated, and a woman with her apron thrown + over her face and head stood in the aperture. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is it?’ said the woman. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, much amazed by this appearance, replied that he was from Italy, + and that he wished to ask a question relative to the missing person, whom + he knew. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hi!’ cried the woman, raising a cracked voice. ‘Jeremiah!’ + </p> + <p> + Upon this, a dry old man appeared, whom Mr Dorrit thought he identified by + his gaiters, as the rusty screw. The woman was under apprehensions of the + dry old man, for she whisked her apron away as he approached, and + disclosed a pale affrighted face. ‘Open the door, you fool,’ said the old + man; ‘and let the gentleman in.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, not without a glance over his shoulder towards his driver and + the cabriolet, walked into the dim hall. ‘Now, sir,’ said Mr Flintwinch, + ‘you can ask anything here you think proper; there are no secrets here, + sir.’ + </p> + <p> + Before a reply could be made, a strong stern voice, though a woman’s, + called from above, ‘Who is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is it?’ returned Jeremiah. ‘More inquiries. A gentleman from Italy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bring him up here!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch muttered, as if he deemed that unnecessary; but, turning to + Mr Dorrit, said, ‘Mrs Clennam. She <i>will</i> do as she likes. I’ll show + you the way.’ He then preceded Mr Dorrit up the blackened staircase; that + gentleman, not unnaturally looking behind him on the road, saw the woman + following, with her apron thrown over her head again in her former ghastly + manner. + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam had her books open on her little table. ‘Oh!’ said she + abruptly, as she eyed her visitor with a steady look. ‘You are from Italy, + sir, are you. Well?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was at a loss for any more distinct rejoinder at the moment than + ‘Ha—well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where is this missing man? Have you come to give us information where he + is? I hope you have?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So far from it, I—hum—have come to seek information.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unfortunately for us, there is none to be got here. Flintwinch, show the + gentleman the handbill. Give him several to take away. Hold the light for + him to read it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch did as he was directed, and Mr Dorrit read it through, as if + he had not previously seen it; glad enough of the opportunity of + collecting his presence of mind, which the air of the house and of the + people in it had a little disturbed. While his eyes were on the paper, he + felt that the eyes of Mr Flintwinch and of Mrs Clennam were on him. He + found, when he looked up, that this sensation was not a fanciful one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now you know as much,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘as we know, sir. Is Mr Blandois + a friend of yours?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No—a—hum—an acquaintance,’ answered Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have no commission from him, perhaps?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I? Ha. Certainly not.’ + </p> + <p> + The searching look turned gradually to the floor, after taking Mr + Flintwinch’s face in its way. Mr Dorrit, discomfited by finding that he + was the questioned instead of the questioner, applied himself to the + reversal of that unexpected order of things. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am—ha—a gentleman of property, at present residing in Italy + with my family, my servants, and—hum—my rather large + establishment. Being in London for a short time on affairs connected with—ha—my + estate, and hearing of this strange disappearance, I wished to make myself + acquainted with the circumstances at first-hand, because there is—ha + hum—an English gentleman in Italy whom I shall no doubt see on my + return, who has been in habits of close and daily intimacy with Monsieur + Blandois. Mr Henry Gowan. You may know the name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never heard of it.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam said it, and Mr Flintwinch echoed it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wishing to—ha—make the narrative coherent and consecutive to + him,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘may I ask—say, three questions?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thirty, if you choose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you known Monsieur Blandois long?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a twelvemonth. Mr Flintwinch here, will refer to the books and tell + you when, and by whom at Paris he was introduced to us. If that,’ Mrs + Clennam added, ‘should be any satisfaction to you. It is poor satisfaction + to us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you seen him often?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. Twice. Once before, and—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That once,’ suggested Mr Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + ‘And that once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, with a growing fancy upon him as he + recovered his importance, that he was in some superior way in the + Commission of the Peace; ‘pray, madam, may I inquire, for the greater + satisfaction of the gentleman whom I have the honour to—ha—retain, + or protect or let me say to—hum—know—to know—Was + Monsieur Blandois here on business on the night indicated in this present + sheet?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On what he called business,’ returned Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is—ha—excuse me—is its nature to be communicated?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + It was evidently impracticable to pass the barrier of that reply. + </p> + <p> + ‘The question has been asked before,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘and the answer + has been, No. We don’t choose to publish our transactions, however + unimportant, to all the town. We say, No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean, he took away no money with him, for example,’ said Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘He took away none of ours, sir, and got none here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose,’ observed Mr Dorrit, glancing from Mrs Clennam to Mr + Flintwinch, and from Mr Flintwinch to Mrs Clennam, ‘you have no way of + accounting to yourself for this mystery?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why do you suppose so?’ rejoined Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + Disconcerted by the cold and hard inquiry, Mr Dorrit was unable to assign + any reason for his supposing so. + </p> + <p> + ‘I account for it, sir,’ she pursued after an awkward silence on Mr + Dorrit’s part, ‘by having no doubt that he is travelling somewhere, or + hiding somewhere.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know—ha—why he should hide anywhere?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + It was exactly the same No as before, and put another barrier up. + </p> + <p> + ‘You asked me if I accounted for the disappearance to myself,’ Mrs Clennam + sternly reminded him, ‘not if I accounted for it to you. I do not pretend + to account for it to you, sir. I understand it to be no more my business + to do that, than it is yours to require that.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit answered with an apologetic bend of his head. As he stepped + back, preparatory to saying he had no more to ask, he could not but + observe how gloomily and fixedly she sat with her eyes fastened on the + ground, and a certain air upon her of resolute waiting; also, how exactly + the self-same expression was reflected in Mr Flintwinch, standing at a + little distance from her chair, with his eyes also on the ground, and his + right hand softly rubbing his chin. + </p> + <p> + At that moment, Mistress Affery (of course, the woman with the apron) + dropped the candlestick she held, and cried out, ‘There! O good Lord! + there it is again. Hark, Jeremiah! Now!’ + </p> + <p> + If there were any sound at all, it was so slight that she must have fallen + into a confirmed habit of listening for sounds; but Mr Dorrit believed he + did hear a something, like the falling of dry leaves. The woman’s terror, + for a very short space, seemed to touch the three; and they all listened. + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch was the first to stir. ‘Affery, my woman,’ said he, sidling + at her with his fists clenched, and his elbows quivering with impatience + to shake her, ‘you are at your old tricks. You’ll be walking in your sleep + next, my woman, and playing the whole round of your distempered antics. + You must have some physic. When I have shown this gentleman out, I’ll make + you up such a comfortable dose, my woman; such a comfortable dose!’ + </p> + <p> + It did not appear altogether comfortable in expectation to Mistress + Affery; but Jeremiah, without further reference to his healing medicine, + took another candle from Mrs Clennam’s table, and said, ‘Now, sir; shall I + light you down?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit professed himself obliged, and went down. Mr Flintwinch shut him + out, and chained him out, without a moment’s loss of time. He was again + passed by the two men, one going out and the other coming in; got into the + vehicle he had left waiting, and was driven away. + </p> + <p> + Before he had gone far, the driver stopped to let him know that he had + given his name, number, and address to the two men, on their joint + requisition; and also the address at which he had taken Mr Dorrit up, the + hour at which he had been called from his stand and the way by which he + had come. This did not make the night’s adventure run any less hotly in Mr + Dorrit’s mind, either when he sat down by his fire again, or when he went + to bed. All night he haunted the dismal house, saw the two people + resolutely waiting, heard the woman with her apron over her face cry out + about the noise, and found the body of the missing Blandois, now buried in + the cellar, and now bricked up in a wall. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0558m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0558m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0558.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0054"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 18. A Castle in the Air + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>anifold are the cares of wealth and state. Mr Dorrit’s satisfaction in + remembering that it had not been necessary for him to announce himself to + Clennam and Co., or to make an allusion to his having had any knowledge of + the intrusive person of that name, had been damped over-night, while it + was still fresh, by a debate that arose within him whether or no he should + take the Marshalsea in his way back, and look at the old gate. He had + decided not to do so; and had astonished the coachman by being very fierce + with him for proposing to go over London Bridge and recross the river by + Waterloo Bridge—a course which would have taken him almost within + sight of his old quarters. Still, for all that, the question had raised a + conflict in his breast; and, for some odd reason or no reason, he was + vaguely dissatisfied. Even at the Merdle dinner-table next day, he was so + out of sorts about it that he continued at intervals to turn it over and + over, in a manner frightfully inconsistent with the good society + surrounding him. It made him hot to think what the Chief Butler’s opinion + of him would have been, if that illustrious personage could have plumbed + with that heavy eye of his the stream of his meditations. + </p> + <p> + The farewell banquet was of a gorgeous nature, and wound up his visit in a + most brilliant manner. Fanny combined with the attractions of her youth + and beauty, a certain weight of self-sustainment as if she had been + married twenty years. He felt that he could leave her with a quiet mind to + tread the paths of distinction, and wished—but without abatement of + patronage, and without prejudice to the retiring virtues of his favourite + child—that he had such another daughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ he told her at parting, ‘our family looks to you to—ha—assert + its dignity and—hum—maintain its importance. I know you will + never disappoint it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, papa,’ said Fanny, ‘you may rely upon that, I think. My best love to + dearest Amy, and I will write to her very soon.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I convey any message to—ha—anybody else?’ asked Mr + Dorrit, in an insinuating manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘Papa,’ said Fanny, before whom Mrs General instantly loomed, ‘no, I thank + you. You are very kind, Pa, but I must beg to be excused. There is no + other message to send, I thank you, dear papa, that it would be at all + agreeable to you to take.’ + </p> + <p> + They parted in an outer drawing-room, where only Mr Sparkler waited on his + lady, and dutifully bided his time for shaking hands. When Mr Sparkler was + admitted to this closing audience, Mr Merdle came creeping in with not + much more appearance of arms in his sleeves than if he had been the twin + brother of Miss Biffin, and insisted on escorting Mr Dorrit down-stairs. + All Mr Dorrit’s protestations being in vain, he enjoyed the honour of + being accompanied to the hall-door by this distinguished man, who (as Mr + Dorrit told him in shaking hands on the step) had really overwhelmed him + with attentions and services during this memorable visit. Thus they + parted; Mr Dorrit entering his carriage with a swelling breast, not at all + sorry that his Courier, who had come to take leave in the lower regions, + should have an opportunity of beholding the grandeur of his departure. + </p> + <p> + The aforesaid grandeur was yet full upon Mr Dorrit when he alighted at his + hotel. Helped out by the Courier and some half-dozen of the hotel + servants, he was passing through the hall with a serene magnificence, when + lo! a sight presented itself that struck him dumb and motionless. John + Chivery, in his best clothes, with his tall hat under his arm, his + ivory-handled cane genteelly embarrassing his deportment, and a bundle of + cigars in his hand! + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, young man,’ said the porter. ‘This is the gentleman. This young man + has persisted in waiting, sir, saying you would be glad to see him.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit glared on the young man, choked, and said, in the mildest of + tones, ‘Ah! Young John! It is Young John, I think; is it not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ returned Young John. + </p> + <p> + ‘I—ha—thought it was Young John!’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘The young + man may come up,’ turning to the attendants, as he passed on: ‘oh yes, he + may come up. Let Young John follow. I will speak to him above.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John followed, smiling and much gratified. Mr Dorrit’s rooms were + reached. Candles were lighted. The attendants withdrew. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, sir,’ said Mr Dorrit, turning round upon him and seizing him by the + collar when they were safely alone. ‘What do you mean by this?’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0562m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0562m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0562.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The amazement and horror depicted in the unfortunate John’s face—for + he had rather expected to be embraced next—were of that powerfully + expressive nature that Mr Dorrit withdrew his hand and merely glared at + him. + </p> + <p> + ‘How dare you do this?’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘How do you presume to come here? + How dare you insult me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I insult you, sir?’ cried Young John. ‘Oh!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir,’ returned Mr Dorrit. ‘Insult me. Your coming here is an + affront, an impertinence, an audacity. You are not wanted here. Who sent + you here? What—ha—the Devil do you do here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought, sir,’ said Young John, with as pale and shocked a face as ever + had been turned to Mr Dorrit’s in his life—even in his College life: + ‘I thought, sir, you mightn’t object to have the goodness to accept a + bundle—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Damn your bundle, sir!’ cried Mr Dorrit, in irrepressible rage. ‘I—hum—don’t + smoke.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I humbly beg your pardon, sir. You used to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tell me that again,’ cried Mr Dorrit, quite beside himself, ‘and I’ll + take the poker to you!’ + </p> + <p> + John Chivery backed to the door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stop, sir!’ cried Mr Dorrit. ‘Stop! Sit down. Confound you sit down!’ + </p> + <p> + John Chivery dropped into the chair nearest the door, and Mr Dorrit walked + up and down the room; rapidly at first; then, more slowly. Once, he went + to the window, and stood there with his forehead against the glass. All of + a sudden, he turned and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘What else did you come for, Sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing else in the world, sir. Oh dear me! Only to say, Sir, that I + hoped you was well, and only to ask if Miss Amy was Well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What’s that to you, sir?’ retorted Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s nothing to me, sir, by rights. I never thought of lessening the + distance betwixt us, I am sure. I know it’s a liberty, sir, but I never + thought you’d have taken it ill. Upon my word and honour, sir,’ said Young + John, with emotion, ‘in my poor way, I am too proud to have come, I assure + you, if I had thought so.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was ashamed. He went back to the window, and leaned his forehead + against the glass for some time. When he turned, he had his handkerchief + in his hand, and he had been wiping his eyes with it, and he looked tired + and ill. + </p> + <p> + ‘Young John, I am very sorry to have been hasty with you, but—ha—some + remembrances are not happy remembrances, and—hum—you shouldn’t + have come.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I feel that now, sir,’ returned John Chivery; ‘but I didn’t before, and + Heaven knows I meant no harm, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No. No,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘I am—hum—sure of that. Ha. Give me + your hand, Young John, give me your hand.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John gave it; but Mr Dorrit had driven his heart out of it, and + nothing could change his face now, from its white, shocked look. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said Mr Dorrit, slowly shaking hands with him. ‘Sit down again, + Young John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir—but I’d rather stand.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit sat down instead. After painfully holding his head a little + while, he turned it to his visitor, and said, with an effort to be easy: + </p> + <p> + ‘And how is your father, Young John? How—ha—how are they all, + Young John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir, They’re all pretty well, sir. They’re not any ways + complaining.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hum. You are in your—ha—old business I see, John?’ said Mr + Dorrit, with a glance at the offending bundle he had anathematised. + </p> + <p> + ‘Partly, sir. I am in my’—John hesitated a little—‘father’s + business likewise.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh indeed!’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Do you—ha hum—go upon the ha—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lock, sir? Yes, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Much to do, John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir; we’re pretty heavy at present. I don’t know how it is, but we + generally <i>are</i> pretty heavy.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At this time of the year, Young John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mostly at all times of the year, sir. I don’t know the time that makes + much difference to us. I wish you good night, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay a moment, John—ha—stay a moment. Hum. Leave me the + cigars, John, I—ha—beg.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly, sir.’ John put them, with a trembling hand, on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay a moment, Young John; stay another moment. It would be a—ha—a + gratification to me to send a little—hum—Testimonial, by such + a trusty messenger, to be divided among—ha hum—them—<i>them</i>—according + to their wants. Would you object to take it, John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in any ways, sir. There’s many of them, I’m sure, that would be the + better for it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, John. I—ha—I’ll write it, John.’ + </p> + <p> + His hand shook so that he was a long time writing it, and wrote it in a + tremulous scrawl at last. It was a cheque for one hundred pounds. He + folded it up, put it in Young John’s hand, and pressed the hand in his. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope you’ll—ha—overlook—hum—what has passed, + John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t speak of it, sir, on any accounts. I don’t in any ways bear malice, + I’m sure.’ + </p> + <p> + But nothing while John was there could change John’s face to its natural + colour and expression, or restore John’s natural manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘And, John,’ said Mr Dorrit, giving his hand a final pressure, and + releasing it, ‘I hope we—ha—agree that we have spoken together + in confidence; and that you will abstain, in going out, from saying + anything to any one that might—hum—suggest that—ha—once + I—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I assure you, sir,’ returned John Chivery, ‘in my poor humble way, + sir, I’m too proud and honourable to do it, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was not too proud and honourable to listen at the door that he + might ascertain for himself whether John really went straight out, or + lingered to have any talk with any one. There was no doubt that he went + direct out at the door, and away down the street with a quick step. After + remaining alone for an hour, Mr Dorrit rang for the Courier, who found him + with his chair on the hearth-rug, sitting with his back towards him and + his face to the fire. ‘You can take that bundle of cigars to smoke on the + journey, if you like,’ said Mr Dorrit, with a careless wave of his hand. + ‘Ha—brought by—hum—little offering from—ha—son + of old tenant of mine.’ + </p> + <p> + Next morning’s sun saw Mr Dorrit’s equipage upon the Dover road, where + every red-jacketed postilion was the sign of a cruel house, established + for the unmerciful plundering of travellers. The whole business of the + human race, between London and Dover, being spoliation, Mr Dorrit was + waylaid at Dartford, pillaged at Gravesend, rifled at Rochester, fleeced + at Sittingbourne, and sacked at Canterbury. However, it being the + Courier’s business to get him out of the hands of the banditti, the + Courier brought him off at every stage; and so the red-jackets went + gleaming merrily along the spring landscape, rising and falling to a + regular measure, between Mr Dorrit in his snug corner and the next chalky + rise in the dusty highway. + </p> + <p> + Another day’s sun saw him at Calais. And having now got the Channel + between himself and John Chivery, he began to feel safe, and to find that + the foreign air was lighter to breathe than the air of England. + </p> + <p> + On again by the heavy French roads for Paris. Having now quite recovered + his equanimity, Mr Dorrit, in his snug corner, fell to castle-building as + he rode along. It was evident that he had a very large castle in hand. All + day long he was running towers up, taking towers down, adding a wing here, + putting on a battlement there, looking to the walls, strengthening the + defences, giving ornamental touches to the interior, making in all + respects a superb castle of it. His preoccupied face so clearly denoted + the pursuit in which he was engaged, that every cripple at the + post-houses, not blind, who shoved his little battered tin-box in at the + carriage window for Charity in the name of Heaven, Charity in the name of + our Lady, Charity in the name of all the Saints, knew as well what work he + was at, as their countryman Le Brun could have known it himself, though he + had made that English traveller the subject of a special physiognomical + treatise. + </p> + <p> + Arrived at Paris, and resting there three days, Mr Dorrit strolled much + about the streets alone, looking in at the shop-windows, and particularly + the jewellers’ windows. Ultimately, he went into the most famous + jeweller’s, and said he wanted to buy a little gift for a lady. + </p> + <p> + It was a charming little woman to whom he said it—a sprightly little + woman, dressed in perfect taste, who came out of a green velvet bower to + attend upon him, from posting up some dainty little books of account which + one could hardly suppose to be ruled for the entry of any articles more + commercial than kisses, at a dainty little shining desk which looked in + itself like a sweetmeat. + </p> + <p> + For example, then, said the little woman, what species of gift did + Monsieur desire? A love-gift? + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit smiled, and said, Eh, well! Perhaps. What did he know? It was + always possible; the sex being so charming. Would she show him some? + </p> + <p> + Most willingly, said the little woman. Flattered and enchanted to show him + many. But pardon! To begin with, he would have the great goodness to + observe that there were love-gifts, and there were nuptial gifts. For + example, these ravishing ear-rings and this necklace so superb to + correspond, were what one called a love-gift. These brooches and these + rings, of a beauty so gracious and celestial, were what one called, with + the permission of Monsieur, nuptial gifts. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it would be a good arrangement, Mr Dorrit hinted, smiling, to + purchase both, and to present the love-gift first, and to finish with the + nuptial offering? + </p> + <p> + Ah Heaven! said the little woman, laying the tips of the fingers of her + two little hands against each other, that would be generous indeed, that + would be a special gallantry! And without doubt the lady so crushed with + gifts would find them irresistible. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was not sure of that. But, for example, the sprightly little + woman was very sure of it, she said. So Mr Dorrit bought a gift of each + sort, and paid handsomely for it. As he strolled back to his hotel + afterwards, he carried his head high: having plainly got up his castle now + to a much loftier altitude than the two square towers of Notre Dame. + </p> + <p> + Building away with all his might, but reserving the plans of his castle + exclusively for his own eye, Mr Dorrit posted away for Marseilles. + Building on, building on, busily, busily, from morning to night. Falling + asleep, and leaving great blocks of building materials dangling in the + air; waking again, to resume work and get them into their places. What + time the Courier in the rumble, smoking Young John’s best cigars, left a + little thread of thin light smoke behind—perhaps as <i>he</i> built + a castle or two with stray pieces of Mr Dorrit’s money. + </p> + <p> + Not a fortified town that they passed in all their journey was as strong, + not a Cathedral summit was as high, as Mr Dorrit’s castle. Neither the + Saone nor the Rhone sped with the swiftness of that peerless building; nor + was the Mediterranean deeper than its foundations; nor were the distant + landscapes on the Cornice road, nor the hills and bay of Genoa the Superb, + more beautiful. Mr Dorrit and his matchless castle were disembarked among + the dirty white houses and dirtier felons of Civita Vecchia, and thence + scrambled on to Rome as they could, through the filth that festered on the + way. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0055"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 19. The Storming of the Castle in the Air + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sun had gone down full four hours, and it was later than most + travellers would like it to be for finding themselves outside the walls of + Rome, when Mr Dorrit’s carriage, still on its last wearisome stage, + rattled over the solitary Campagna. The savage herdsmen and the + fierce-looking peasants who had chequered the way while the light lasted, + had all gone down with the sun, and left the wilderness blank. At some + turns of the road, a pale flare on the horizon, like an exhalation from + the ruin-sown land, showed that the city was yet far off; but this poor + relief was rare and short-lived. The carriage dipped down again into a + hollow of the black dry sea, and for a long time there was nothing visible + save its petrified swell and the gloomy sky. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, though he had his castle-building to engage his mind, could not + be quite easy in that desolate place. He was far more curious, in every + swerve of the carriage, and every cry of the postilions, than he had been + since he quitted London. The valet on the box evidently quaked. The + Courier in the rumble was not altogether comfortable in his mind. As often + as Mr Dorrit let down the glass and looked back at him (which was very + often), he saw him smoking John Chivery out, it is true, but still + generally standing up the while and looking about him, like a man who had + his suspicions, and kept upon his guard. Then would Mr Dorrit, pulling up + the glass again, reflect that those postilions were cut-throat looking + fellows, and that he would have done better to have slept at Civita + Vecchia, and have started betimes in the morning. But, for all this, he + worked at his castle in the intervals. + </p> + <p> + And now, fragments of ruinous enclosure, yawning window-gap and crazy + wall, deserted houses, leaking wells, broken water-tanks, spectral + cypress-trees, patches of tangled vine, and the changing of the track to a + long, irregular, disordered lane where everything was crumbling away, from + the unsightly buildings to the jolting road—now, these objects + showed that they were nearing Rome. And now, a sudden twist and stoppage + of the carriage inspired Mr Dorrit with the mistrust that the brigand + moment was come for twisting him into a ditch and robbing him; until, + letting down the glass again and looking out, he perceived himself + assailed by nothing worse than a funeral procession, which came + mechanically chaunting by, with an indistinct show of dirty vestments, + lurid torches, swinging censers, and a great cross borne before a priest. + He was an ugly priest by torchlight; of a lowering aspect, with an + overhanging brow; and as his eyes met those of Mr Dorrit, looking + bareheaded out of the carriage, his lips, moving as they chaunted, seemed + to threaten that important traveller; likewise the action of his hand, + which was in fact his manner of returning the traveller’s salutation, + seemed to come in aid of that menace. So thought Mr Dorrit, made fanciful + by the weariness of building and travelling, as the priest drifted past + him, and the procession straggled away, taking its dead along with it. + Upon their so-different way went Mr Dorrit’s company too; and soon, with + their coach load of luxuries from the two great capitals of Europe, they + were (like the Goths reversed) beating at the gates of Rome. + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit was not expected by his own people that night. He had been; but + they had given him up until to-morrow, not doubting that it was later than + he would care, in those parts, to be out. Thus, when his equipage stopped + at his own gate, no one but the porter appeared to receive him. Was Miss + Dorrit from home? he asked. No. She was within. Good, said Mr Dorrit to + the assembling servants; let them keep where they were; let them help to + unload the carriage; he would find Miss Dorrit for himself. + </p> + <p> + So he went up his grand staircase, slowly, and tired, and looked into + various chambers which were empty, until he saw a light in a small + ante-room. It was a curtained nook, like a tent, within two other rooms; + and it looked warm and bright in colour, as he approached it through the + dark avenue they made. + </p> + <p> + There was a draped doorway, but no door; and as he stopped here, looking + in unseen, he felt a pang. Surely not like jealousy? For why like + jealousy? There was only his daughter and his brother there: he, with his + chair drawn to the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the evening wood fire; + she seated at a little table, busied with some embroidery work. Allowing + for the great difference in the still-life of the picture, the figures + were much the same as of old; his brother being sufficiently like himself + to represent himself, for a moment, in the composition. So had he sat many + a night, over a coal fire far away; so had she sat, devoted to him. Yet + surely there was nothing to be jealous of in the old miserable poverty. + Whence, then, the pang in his heart? + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you know, uncle, I think you are growing young again?’ + </p> + <p> + Her uncle shook his head and said, ‘Since when, my dear; since when?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ returned Little Dorrit, plying her needle, ‘that you have been + growing younger for weeks past. So cheerful, uncle, and so ready, and so + interested.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear child—all you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘All me, uncle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, yes. You have done me a world of good. You have been so considerate + of me, and so tender with me, and so delicate in trying to hide your + attentions from me, that I—well, well, well! It’s treasured up, my + darling, treasured up.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is nothing in it but your own fresh fancy, uncle,’ said Little + Dorrit, cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, well, well!’ murmured the old man. ‘Thank God!’ + </p> + <p> + She paused for an instant in her work to look at him, and her look revived + that former pain in her father’s breast; in his poor weak breast, so full + of contradictions, vacillations, inconsistencies, the little peevish + perplexities of this ignorant life, mists which the morning without a + night only can clear away. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been freer with you, you see, my dove,’ said the old man, ‘since + we have been alone. I say, alone, for I don’t count Mrs General; I don’t + care for her; she has nothing to do with me. But I know Fanny was + impatient of me. And I don’t wonder at it, or complain of it, for I am + sensible that I must be in the way, though I try to keep out of it as well + as I can. I know I am not fit company for our company. My brother + William,’ said the old man admiringly, ‘is fit company for monarchs; but + not so your uncle, my dear. Frederick Dorrit is no credit to William + Dorrit, and he knows it quite well. Ah! Why, here’s your father, Amy! My + dear William, welcome back! My beloved brother, I am rejoiced to see you!’ + </p> + <p> + (Turning his head in speaking, he had caught sight of him as he stood in + the doorway.) + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit with a cry of pleasure put her arms about her father’s neck, + and kissed him again and again. Her father was a little impatient, and a + little querulous. ‘I am glad to find you at last, Amy,’ he said. ‘Ha. + Really I am glad to find—hum—any one to receive me at last. I + appear to have been—ha—so little expected, that upon my word I + began—ha hum—to think it might be right to offer an apology + for—ha—taking the liberty of coming back at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was so late, my dear William,’ said his brother, ‘that we had given + you up for to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am stronger than you, dear Frederick,’ returned his brother with an + elaboration of fraternity in which there was severity; ‘and I hope I can + travel without detriment at—ha—any hour I choose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Surely, surely,’ returned the other, with a misgiving that he had given + offence. ‘Surely, William.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, Amy,’ pursued Mr Dorrit, as she helped him to put off his + wrappers. ‘I can do it without assistance. I—ha—need not + trouble you, Amy. Could I have a morsel of bread and a glass of wine, or—hum—would + it cause too much inconvenience?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear father, you shall have supper in a very few minutes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, my love,’ said Mr Dorrit, with a reproachful frost upon him; + ‘I—ha—am afraid I am causing inconvenience. Hum. Mrs General + pretty well?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs General complained of a headache, and of being fatigued; and so, when + we gave you up, she went to bed, dear.’ + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Mr Dorrit thought that Mrs General had done well in being overcome + by the disappointment of his not arriving. At any rate, his face relaxed, + and he said with obvious satisfaction, ‘Extremely sorry to hear that Mrs + General is not well.’ + </p> + <p> + During this short dialogue, his daughter had been observant of him, with + something more than her usual interest. It would seem as though he had a + changed or worn appearance in her eyes, and he perceived and resented it; + for he said with renewed peevishness, when he had divested himself of his + travelling-cloak, and had come to the fire: + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, what are you looking at? What do you see in me that causes you to—ha—concentrate + your solicitude on me in that—hum—very particular manner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not know it, father; I beg your pardon. It gladdens my eyes to see + you again; that’s all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say that’s all, because—ha—that’s not all. You—hum—you + think,’ said Mr Dorrit, with an accusatory emphasis, ‘that I am not + looking well.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought you looked a little tired, love.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you are mistaken,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Ha, I am <i>not</i> tired. Ha, + hum. I am very much fresher than I was when I went away.’ + </p> + <p> + He was so inclined to be angry that she said nothing more in her + justification, but remained quietly beside him embracing his arm. As he + stood thus, with his brother on the other side, he fell into a heavy doze, + of not a minute’s duration, and awoke with a start. + </p> + <p> + ‘Frederick,’ he said, turning to his brother: ‘I recommend you to go to + bed immediately.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, William. I’ll wait and see you sup.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Frederick,’ he retorted, ‘I beg you to go to bed. I—ha—make + it a personal request that you go to bed. You ought to have been in bed + long ago. You are very feeble.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ said the old man, who had no wish but to please him. ‘Well, well, + well! I dare say I am.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Frederick,’ returned Mr Dorrit, with an astonishing superiority + to his brother’s failing powers, ‘there can be no doubt of it. It is + painful to me to see you so weak. Ha. It distresses me. Hum. I don’t find + you looking at all well. You are not fit for this sort of thing. You + should be more careful, you should be very careful.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I go to bed?’ asked Frederick. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Frederick,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘do, I adjure you! Good night, brother. + I hope you will be stronger to-morrow. I am not at all pleased with your + looks. Good night, dear fellow.’ After dismissing his brother in this + gracious way, he fell into a doze again before the old man was well out of + the room: and he would have stumbled forward upon the logs, but for his + daughter’s restraining hold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your uncle wanders very much, Amy,’ he said, when he was thus roused. ‘He + is less—ha—coherent, and his conversation is more—hum—broken, + than I have—ha, hum—ever known. Has he had any illness since I + have been gone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, father.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You—ha—see a great change in him, Amy?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not observed it, dear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Greatly broken,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘Greatly broken. My poor, affectionate, + failing Frederick! Ha. Even taking into account what he was before, he is—hum—sadly + broken!’ + </p> + <p> + His supper, which was brought to him there, and spread upon the little + table where he had seen her working, diverted his attention. She sat at + his side as in the days that were gone, for the first time since those + days ended. They were alone, and she helped him to his meat and poured out + his drink for him, as she had been used to do in the prison. All this + happened now, for the first time since their accession to wealth. She was + afraid to look at him much, after the offence he had taken; but she + noticed two occasions in the course of his meal, when he all of a sudden + looked at her, and looked about him, as if the association were so strong + that he needed assurance from his sense of sight that they were not in the + old prison-room. Both times, he put his hand to his head as if he missed + his old black cap—though it had been ignominiously given away in the + Marshalsea, and had never got free to that hour, but still hovered about + the yards on the head of his successor. + </p> + <p> + He took very little supper, but was a long time over it, and often + reverted to his brother’s declining state. Though he expressed the + greatest pity for him, he was almost bitter upon him. He said that poor + Frederick—ha hum—drivelled. There was no other word to express + it; drivelled. Poor fellow! It was melancholy to reflect what Amy must + have undergone from the excessive tediousness of his Society—wandering + and babbling on, poor dear estimable creature, wandering and babbling on—if + it had not been for the relief she had had in Mrs General. Extremely + sorry, he then repeated with his former satisfaction, that that—ha—superior + woman was poorly. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, in her watchful love, would have remembered the lightest + thing he said or did that night, though she had had no subsequent reason + to recall that night. She always remembered that, when he looked about him + under the strong influence of the old association, he tried to keep it out + of her mind, and perhaps out of his own too, by immediately expatiating on + the great riches and great company that had encompassed him in his + absence, and on the lofty position he and his family had to sustain. Nor + did she fail to recall that there were two under-currents, side by side, + pervading all his discourse and all his manner; one showing her how well + he had got on without her, and how independent he was of her; the other, + in a fitful and unintelligible way almost complaining of her, as if it had + been possible that she had neglected him while he was away. + </p> + <p> + His telling her of the glorious state that Mr Merdle kept, and of the + court that bowed before him, naturally brought him to Mrs Merdle. So + naturally indeed, that although there was an unusual want of sequence in + the greater part of his remarks, he passed to her at once, and asked how + she was. + </p> + <p> + ‘She is very well. She is going away next week.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Home?’ asked Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘After a few weeks’ stay upon the road.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She will be a vast loss here,’ said Mr Dorrit. ‘A vast—ha—acquisition + at home. To Fanny, and to—hum—the rest of the—ha—great + world.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit thought of the competition that was to be entered upon, and + assented very softly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle is going to have a great farewell Assembly, dear, and a dinner + before it. She has been expressing her anxiety that you should return in + time. She has invited both you and me to her dinner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She is—ha—very kind. When is the day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The day after to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Write round in the morning, and say that I have returned, and shall—hum—be + delighted.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘May I walk with you up the stairs to your room, dear?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No!’ he answered, looking angrily round; for he was moving away, as if + forgetful of leave-taking. ‘You may not, Amy. I want no help. I am your + father, not your infirm uncle!’ He checked himself, as abruptly as he had + broken into this reply, and said, ‘You have not kissed me, Amy. Good + night, my dear! We must marry—ha—we must marry <i>you</i>, + now.’ With that he went, more slowly and more tired, up the staircase to + his rooms, and, almost as soon as he got there, dismissed his valet. His + next care was to look about him for his Paris purchases, and, after + opening their cases and carefully surveying them, to put them away under + lock and key. After that, what with dozing and what with castle-building, + he lost himself for a long time, so that there was a touch of morning on + the eastward rim of the desolate Campagna when he crept to bed. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General sent up her compliments in good time next day, and hoped he + had rested well after this fatiguing journey. He sent down his + compliments, and begged to inform Mrs General that he had rested very well + indeed, and was in high condition. Nevertheless, he did not come forth + from his own rooms until late in the afternoon; and, although he then + caused himself to be magnificently arrayed for a drive with Mrs General + and his daughter, his appearance was scarcely up to his description of + himself. + </p> + <p> + As the family had no visitors that day, its four members dined alone + together. He conducted Mrs General to the seat at his right hand with + immense ceremony; and Little Dorrit could not but notice as she followed + with her uncle, both that he was again elaborately dressed, and that his + manner towards Mrs General was very particular. The perfect formation of + that accomplished lady’s surface rendered it difficult to displace an atom + of its genteel glaze, but Little Dorrit thought she descried a slight thaw + of triumph in a corner of her frosty eye. + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding what may be called in these pages the Pruney and Prismatic + nature of the family banquet, Mr Dorrit several times fell asleep while it + was in progress. His fits of dozing were as sudden as they had been + overnight, and were as short and profound. When the first of these + slumberings seized him, Mrs General looked almost amazed: but, on each + recurrence of the symptoms, she told her polite beads, Papa, Potatoes, + Poultry, Prunes, and Prism; and, by dint of going through that infallible + performance very slowly, appeared to finish her rosary at about the same + time as Mr Dorrit started from his sleep. + </p> + <p> + He was again painfully aware of a somnolent tendency in Frederick (which + had no existence out of his own imagination), and after dinner, when + Frederick had withdrawn, privately apologised to Mrs General for the poor + man. ‘The most estimable and affectionate of brothers,’ he said, ‘but—ha, + hum—broken up altogether. Unhappily, declining fast.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Frederick, sir,’ quoth Mrs General, ‘is habitually absent and + drooping, but let us hope it is not so bad as that.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Dorrit, however, was determined not to let him off. ‘Fast declining, + madam. A wreck. A ruin. Mouldering away before our eyes. Hum. Good + Frederick!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You left Mrs Sparkler quite well and happy, I trust?’ said Mrs General, + after heaving a cool sigh for Frederick. + </p> + <p> + ‘Surrounded,’ replied Mr Dorrit, ‘by—ha—all that can charm the + taste, and—hum—elevate the mind. Happy, my dear madam, in a—hum—husband.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs General was a little fluttered; seeming delicately to put the word + away with her gloves, as if there were no knowing what it might lead to. + </p> + <p> + ‘Fanny,’ Mr Dorrit continued. ‘Fanny, Mrs General, has high qualities. Ha. + Ambition—hum—purpose, consciousness of—ha—position, + determination to support that position—ha, hum—grace, beauty, + and native nobility.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No doubt,’ said Mrs General (with a little extra stiffness). + </p> + <p> + ‘Combined with these qualities, madam,’ said Mr Dorrit, ‘Fanny has—ha—manifested + one blemish which has made me—hum—made me uneasy, and—ha—I + must add, angry; but which I trust may now be considered at an end, even + as to herself, and which is undoubtedly at an end as to—ha—others.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To what, Mr Dorrit,’ returned Mrs General, with her gloves again somewhat + excited, ‘can you allude? I am at a loss to—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do not say that, my dear madam,’ interrupted Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + Mrs General’s voice, as it died away, pronounced the words, ‘at a loss to + imagine.’ + </p> + <p> + After which Mr Dorrit was seized with a doze for about a minute, out of + which he sprang with spasmodic nimbleness. + </p> + <p> + ‘I refer, Mrs General, to that—ha—strong spirit of opposition, + or—hum—I might say—ha—jealousy in Fanny, which has + occasionally risen against the—ha—sense I entertain of—hum—the + claims of—ha—the lady with whom I have now the honour of + communing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit,’ returned Mrs General, ‘is ever but too obliging, ever but too + appreciative. If there have been moments when I have imagined that Miss + Dorrit has indeed resented the favourable opinion Mr Dorrit has formed of + my services, I have found, in that only too high opinion, my consolation + and recompense.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Opinion of your services, madam?’ said Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of,’ Mrs General repeated, in an elegantly impressive manner, ‘my + services.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of your services alone, dear madam?’ said Mr Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘I presume,’ retorted Mrs General, in her former impressive manner, ‘of my + services alone. For, to what else,’ said Mrs General, with a slightly + interrogative action of her gloves, ‘could I impute—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To—ha—yourself, Mrs General. Ha, hum. To yourself and your + merits,’ was Mr Dorrit’s rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit will pardon me,’ said Mrs General, ‘if I remark that this is + not a time or place for the pursuit of the present conversation. Mr Dorrit + will excuse me if I remind him that Miss Dorrit is in the adjoining room, + and is visible to myself while I utter her name. Mr Dorrit will forgive me + if I observe that I am agitated, and that I find there are moments when + weaknesses I supposed myself to have subdued, return with redoubled power. + Mr Dorrit will allow me to withdraw.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hum. Perhaps we may resume this—ha—interesting conversation,’ + said Mr Dorrit, ‘at another time; unless it should be, what I hope it is + not—hum—in any way disagreeable to—ah—Mrs + General.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Dorrit,’ said Mrs General, casting down her eyes as she rose with a + bend, ‘must ever claim my homage and obedience.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs General then took herself off in a stately way, and not with that + amount of trepidation upon her which might have been expected in a less + remarkable woman. Mr Dorrit, who had conducted his part of the dialogue + with a certain majestic and admiring condescension—much as some + people may be seen to conduct themselves in Church, and to perform their + part in the service—appeared, on the whole, very well satisfied with + himself and with Mrs General too. On the return of that lady to tea, she + had touched herself up with a little powder and pomatum, and was not + without moral enchantment likewise: the latter showing itself in much + sweet patronage of manner towards Miss Dorrit, and in an air of as tender + interest in Mr Dorrit as was consistent with rigid propriety. At the close + of the evening, when she rose to retire, Mr Dorrit took her by the hand as + if he were going to lead her out into the Piazza of the people to walk a + minuet by moonlight, and with great solemnity conducted her to the room + door, where he raised her knuckles to his lips. Having parted from her + with what may be conjectured to have been a rather bony kiss of a cosmetic + flavour, he gave his daughter his blessing, graciously. And having thus + hinted that there was something remarkable in the wind, he again went to + bed. + </p> + <p> + He remained in the seclusion of his own chamber next morning; but, early + in the afternoon, sent down his best compliments to Mrs General, by Mr + Tinkler, and begged she would accompany Miss Dorrit on an airing without + him. His daughter was dressed for Mrs Merdle’s dinner before he appeared. + He then presented himself in a refulgent condition as to his attire, but + looking indefinably shrunken and old. However, as he was plainly + determined to be angry with her if she so much as asked him how he was, + she only ventured to kiss his cheek, before accompanying him to Mrs + Merdle’s with an anxious heart. + </p> + <p> + The distance that they had to go was very short, but he was at his + building work again before the carriage had half traversed it. Mrs Merdle + received him with great distinction; the bosom was in admirable + preservation, and on the best terms with itself; the dinner was very + choice; and the company was very select. + </p> + <p> + It was principally English; saving that it comprised the usual French + Count and the usual Italian Marchese—decorative social milestones, + always to be found in certain places, and varying very little in + appearance. The table was long, and the dinner was long; and Little + Dorrit, overshadowed by a large pair of black whiskers and a large white + cravat, lost sight of her father altogether, until a servant put a scrap + of paper in her hand, with a whispered request from Mrs Merdle that she + would read it directly. Mrs Merdle had written on it in pencil, ‘Pray come + and speak to Mr Dorrit, I doubt if he is well.’ + </p> + <p> + She was hurrying to him, unobserved, when he got up out of his chair, and + leaning over the table called to her, supposing her to be still in her + place: + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, Amy, my child!’ + </p> + <p> + The action was so unusual, to say nothing of his strange eager appearance + and strange eager voice, that it instantaneously caused a profound + silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘Amy, my dear,’ he repeated. ‘Will you go and see if Bob is on the lock?’ + </p> + <p> + She was at his side, and touching him, but he still perversely supposed + her to be in her seat, and called out, still leaning over the table, ‘Amy, + Amy. I don’t feel quite myself. Ha. I don’t know what’s the matter with + me. I particularly wish to see Bob. Ha. Of all the turnkeys, he’s as much + my friend as yours. See if Bob is in the lodge, and beg him to come to + me.’ + </p> + <p> + All the guests were now in consternation, and everybody rose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear father, I am not there; I am here, by you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! You are here, Amy! Good. Hum. Good. Ha. Call Bob. If he has been + relieved, and is not on the lock, tell Mrs Bangham to go and fetch him.’ + </p> + <p> + She was gently trying to get him away; but he resisted, and would not go. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you, child,’ he said petulantly, ‘I can’t be got up the narrow + stairs without Bob. Ha. Send for Bob. Hum. Send for Bob—best of all + the turnkeys—send for Bob!’ + </p> + <p> + He looked confusedly about him, and, becoming conscious of the number of + faces by which he was surrounded, addressed them: + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0577m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0577m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0577.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the duty—ha—devolves upon me of—hum—welcoming + you to the Marshalsea! Welcome to the Marshalsea! The space is—ha—limited—limited—the + parade might be wider; but you will find it apparently grow larger after a + time—a time, ladies and gentlemen—and the air is, all things + considered, very good. It blows over the—ha—Surrey hills. + Blows over the Surrey hills. This is the Snuggery. Hum. Supported by a + small subscription of the—ha—Collegiate body. In return for + which—hot water—general kitchen—and little domestic + advantages. Those who are habituated to the—ha—Marshalsea, are + pleased to call me its father. I am accustomed to be complimented by + strangers as the—ha—Father of the Marshalsea. Certainly, if + years of residence may establish a claim to so—ha—honourable a + title, I may accept the—hum—conferred distinction. My child, + ladies and gentlemen. My daughter. Born here!’ + </p> + <p> + She was not ashamed of it, or ashamed of him. She was pale and frightened; + but she had no other care than to soothe him and get him away, for his own + dear sake. She was between him and the wondering faces, turned round upon + his breast with her own face raised to his. He held her clasped in his + left arm, and between whiles her low voice was heard tenderly imploring + him to go away with her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Born here,’ he repeated, shedding tears. ‘Bred here. Ladies and + gentlemen, my daughter. Child of an unfortunate father, but—ha—always + a gentleman. Poor, no doubt, but—hum—proud. Always proud. It + has become a—hum—not infrequent custom for my—ha—personal + admirers—personal admirers solely—to be pleased to express + their desire to acknowledge my semi-official position here, by offering—ha—little + tributes, which usually take the form of—ha—voluntary + recognitions of my humble endeavours to—hum—to uphold a Tone + here—a Tone—I beg it to be understood that I do not consider + myself compromised. Ha. Not compromised. Ha. Not a beggar. No; I repudiate + the title! At the same time far be it from me to—hum—to put + upon the fine feelings by which my partial friends are actuated, the + slight of scrupling to admit that those offerings are—hum—highly + acceptable. On the contrary, they are most acceptable. In my child’s name, + if not in my own, I make the admission in the fullest manner, at the same + time reserving—ha—shall I say my personal dignity? Ladies and + gentlemen, God bless you all!’ + </p> + <p> + By this time, the exceeding mortification undergone by the Bosom had + occasioned the withdrawal of the greater part of the company into other + rooms. The few who had lingered thus long followed the rest, and Little + Dorrit and her father were left to the servants and themselves. Dearest + and most precious to her, he would come with her now, would he not? He + replied to her fervid entreaties, that he would never be able to get up + the narrow stairs without Bob; where was Bob, would nobody fetch Bob? + Under pretence of looking for Bob, she got him out against the stream of + gay company now pouring in for the evening assembly, and got him into a + coach that had just set down its load, and got him home. + </p> + <p> + The broad stairs of his Roman palace were contracted in his failing sight + to the narrow stairs of his London prison; and he would suffer no one but + her to touch him, his brother excepted. They got him up to his room + without help, and laid him down on his bed. And from that hour his poor + maimed spirit, only remembering the place where it had broken its wings, + cancelled the dream through which it had since groped, and knew of nothing + beyond the Marshalsea. When he heard footsteps in the street, he took them + for the old weary tread in the yards. When the hour came for locking up, + he supposed all strangers to be excluded for the night. When the time for + opening came again, he was so anxious to see Bob, that they were fain to + patch up a narrative how that Bob—many a year dead then, gentle + turnkey—had taken cold, but hoped to be out to-morrow, or the next + day, or the next at furthest. + </p> + <p> + He fell away into a weakness so extreme that he could not raise his hand. + But he still protected his brother according to his long usage; and would + say with some complacency, fifty times a day, when he saw him standing by + his bed, ‘My good Frederick, sit down. You are very feeble indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + They tried him with Mrs General, but he had not the faintest knowledge of + her. Some injurious suspicion lodged itself in his brain, that she wanted + to supplant Mrs Bangham, and that she was given to drinking. He charged + her with it in no measured terms; and was so urgent with his daughter to + go round to the Marshal and entreat him to turn her out, that she was + never reproduced after the first failure. + </p> + <p> + Saving that he once asked ‘if Tip had gone outside?’ the remembrance of + his two children not present seemed to have departed from him. But the + child who had done so much for him and had been so poorly repaid, was + never out of his mind. Not that he spared her, or was fearful of her being + spent by watching and fatigue; he was not more troubled on that score than + he had usually been. No; he loved her in his old way. They were in the + jail again, and she tended him, and he had constant need of her, and could + not turn without her; and he even told her, sometimes, that he was content + to have undergone a great deal for her sake. As to her, she bent over his + bed with her quiet face against his, and would have laid down her own life + to restore him. + </p> + <p> + When he had been sinking in this painless way for two or three days, she + observed him to be troubled by the ticking of his watch—a pompous + gold watch that made as great a to-do about its going as if nothing else + went but itself and Time. She suffered it to run down; but he was still + uneasy, and showed that was not what he wanted. At length he roused + himself to explain that he wanted money to be raised on this watch. He was + quite pleased when she pretended to take it away for the purpose, and + afterwards had a relish for his little tastes of wine and jelly, that he + had not had before. + </p> + <p> + He soon made it plain that this was so; for, in another day or two he sent + off his sleeve-buttons and finger-rings. He had an amazing satisfaction in + entrusting her with these errands, and appeared to consider it equivalent + to making the most methodical and provident arrangements. After his + trinkets, or such of them as he had been able to see about him, were gone, + his clothes engaged his attention; and it is as likely as not that he was + kept alive for some days by the satisfaction of sending them, piece by + piece, to an imaginary pawnbroker’s. + </p> + <p> + Thus for ten days Little Dorrit bent over his pillow, laying her cheek + against his. Sometimes she was so worn out that for a few minutes they + would slumber together. Then she would awake; to recollect with + fast-flowing silent tears what it was that touched her face, and to see, + stealing over the cherished face upon the pillow, a deeper shadow than the + shadow of the Marshalsea Wall. + </p> + <p> + Quietly, quietly, all the lines of the plan of the great Castle melted one + after another. Quietly, quietly, the ruled and cross-ruled countenance on + which they were traced, became fair and blank. Quietly, quietly, the + reflected marks of the prison bars and of the zig-zag iron on the + wall-top, faded away. Quietly, quietly, the face subsided into a far + younger likeness of her own than she had ever seen under the grey hair, + and sank to rest. + </p> + <p> + At first her uncle was stark distracted. ‘O my brother! O William, + William! You to go before me; you to go alone; you to go, and I to remain! + You, so far superior, so distinguished, so noble; I, a poor useless + creature fit for nothing, and whom no one would have missed!’ + </p> + <p> + It did her, for the time, the good of having him to think of and to + succour. + </p> + <p> + ‘Uncle, dear uncle, spare yourself, spare me!’ + </p> + <p> + The old man was not deaf to the last words. When he did begin to restrain + himself, it was that he might spare her. He had no care for himself; but, + with all the remaining power of the honest heart, stunned so long and now + awaking to be broken, he honoured and blessed her. + </p> + <p> + ‘O God,’ he cried, before they left the room, with his wrinkled hands + clasped over her. ‘Thou seest this daughter of my dear dead brother! All + that I have looked upon, with my half-blind and sinful eyes, Thou hast + discerned clearly, brightly. Not a hair of her head shall be harmed before + Thee. Thou wilt uphold her here to her last hour. And I know Thou wilt + reward her hereafter!’ + </p> + <p> + They remained in a dim room near, until it was almost midnight, quiet and + sad together. At times his grief would seek relief in a burst like that in + which it had found its earliest expression; but, besides that his little + strength would soon have been unequal to such strains, he never failed to + recall her words, and to reproach himself and calm himself. The only + utterance with which he indulged his sorrow, was the frequent exclamation + that his brother was gone, alone; that they had been together in the + outset of their lives, that they had fallen into misfortune together, that + they had kept together through their many years of poverty, that they had + remained together to that day; and that his brother was gone alone, alone! + </p> + <p> + They parted, heavy and sorrowful. She would not consent to leave him + anywhere but in his own room, and she saw him lie down in his clothes upon + his bed, and covered him with her own hands. Then she sank upon her own + bed, and fell into a deep sleep: the sleep of exhaustion and rest, though + not of complete release from a pervading consciousness of affliction. + Sleep, good Little Dorrit. Sleep through the night! + </p> + <p> + It was a moonlight night; but the moon rose late, being long past the + full. When it was high in the peaceful firmament, it shone through + half-closed lattice blinds into the solemn room where the stumblings and + wanderings of a life had so lately ended. Two quiet figures were within + the room; two figures, equally still and impassive, equally removed by an + untraversable distance from the teeming earth and all that it contains, + though soon to lie in it. + </p> + <p> + One figure reposed upon the bed. The other, kneeling on the floor, drooped + over it; the arms easily and peacefully resting on the coverlet; the face + bowed down, so that the lips touched the hand over which with its last + breath it had bent. The two brothers were before their Father; far beyond + the twilight judgment of this world; high above its mists and obscurities. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0582m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0582m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0582.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0056"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 20. Introduces the next + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he passengers were landing from the packet on the pier at Calais. A + low-lying place and a low-spirited place Calais was, with the tide ebbing + out towards low water-mark. There had been no more water on the bar than + had sufficed to float the packet in; and now the bar itself, with a + shallow break of sea over it, looked like a lazy marine monster just risen + to the surface, whose form was indistinctly shown as it lay asleep. The + meagre lighthouse all in white, haunting the seaboard as if it were the + ghost of an edifice that had once had colour and rotundity, dropped + melancholy tears after its late buffeting by the waves. The long rows of + gaunt black piles, slimy and wet and weather-worn, with funeral garlands + of seaweed twisted about them by the late tide, might have represented an + unsightly marine cemetery. Every wave-dashed, storm-beaten object, was so + low and so little, under the broad grey sky, in the noise of the wind and + sea, and before the curling lines of surf, making at it ferociously, that + the wonder was there was any Calais left, and that its low gates and low + wall and low roofs and low ditches and low sand-hills and low ramparts and + flat streets, had not yielded long ago to the undermining and besieging + sea, like the fortifications children make on the sea-shore. + </p> + <p> + After slipping among oozy piles and planks, stumbling up wet steps and + encountering many salt difficulties, the passengers entered on their + comfortless peregrination along the pier; where all the French vagabonds + and English outlaws in the town (half the population) attended to prevent + their recovery from bewilderment. After being minutely inspected by all + the English, and claimed and reclaimed and counter-claimed as prizes by + all the French in a hand-to-hand scuffle three quarters of a mile long, + they were at last free to enter the streets, and to make off in their + various directions, hotly pursued. + </p> + <p> + Clennam, harassed by more anxieties than one, was among this devoted band. + Having rescued the most defenceless of his compatriots from situations of + great extremity, he now went his way alone, or as nearly alone as he could + be, with a native gentleman in a suit of grease and a cap of the same + material, giving chase at a distance of some fifty yards, and continually + calling after him, ‘Hi! Ice-say! You! Seer! Ice-say! Nice Oatel!’ + </p> + <p> + Even this hospitable person, however, was left behind at last, and Clennam + pursued his way, unmolested. There was a tranquil air in the town after + the turbulence of the Channel and the beach, and its dulness in that + comparison was agreeable. He met new groups of his countrymen, who had all + a straggling air of having at one time overblown themselves, like certain + uncomfortable kinds of flowers, and of being now mere weeds. They had all + an air, too, of lounging out a limited round, day after day, which + strongly reminded him of the Marshalsea. But, taking no further note of + them than was sufficient to give birth to the reflection, he sought out a + certain street and number which he kept in his mind. + </p> + <p> + ‘So Pancks said,’ he murmured to himself, as he stopped before a dull + house answering to the address. ‘I suppose his information to be correct + and his discovery, among Mr Casby’s loose papers, indisputable; but, + without it, I should hardly have supposed this to be a likely place.’ + </p> + <p> + A dead sort of house, with a dead wall over the way and a dead gateway at + the side, where a pendant bell-handle produced two dead tinkles, and a + knocker produced a dead, flat, surface-tapping, that seemed not to have + depth enough in it to penetrate even the cracked door. However, the door + jarred open on a dead sort of spring; and he closed it behind him as he + entered a dull yard, soon brought to a close by another dead wall, where + an attempt had been made to train some creeping shrubs, which were dead; + and to make a little fountain in a grotto, which was dry; and to decorate + that with a little statue, which was gone. + </p> + <p> + The entry to the house was on the left, and it was garnished as the outer + gateway was, with two printed bills in French and English, announcing + Furnished Apartments to let, with immediate possession. A strong cheerful + peasant woman, all stocking, petticoat, white cap, and ear-ring, stood + here in a dark doorway, and said with a pleasant show of teeth, ‘Ice-say! + Seer! Who?’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam, replying in French, said the English lady; he wished to see the + English lady. ‘Enter then and ascend, if you please,’ returned the peasant + woman, in French likewise. He did both, and followed her up a dark bare + staircase to a back room on the first-floor. Hence, there was a gloomy + view of the yard that was dull, and of the shrubs that were dead, and of + the fountain that was dry, and of the pedestal of the statue that was + gone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Monsieur Blandois,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘With pleasure, Monsieur.’ + </p> + <p> + Thereupon the woman withdrew and left him to look at the room. It was the + pattern of room always to be found in such a house. Cool, dull, and dark. + Waxed floor very slippery. A room not large enough to skate in; nor + adapted to the easy pursuit of any other occupation. Red and white + curtained windows, little straw mat, little round table with a tumultuous + assemblage of legs underneath, clumsy rush-bottomed chairs, two great red + velvet arm-chairs affording plenty of space to be uncomfortable in, + bureau, chimney-glass in several pieces pretending to be in one piece, + pair of gaudy vases of very artificial flowers; between them a Greek + warrior with his helmet off, sacrificing a clock to the Genius of France. + </p> + <p> + After some pause, a door of communication with another room was opened, + and a lady entered. She manifested great surprise on seeing Clennam, and + her glance went round the room in search of some one else. + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me, Miss Wade. I am alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It was not your name that was brought to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No; I know that. Excuse me. I have already had experience that my name + does not predispose you to an interview; and I ventured to mention the + name of one I am in search of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray,’ she returned, motioning him to a chair so coldly that he remained + standing, ‘what name was it that you gave?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mentioned the name of Blandois.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Blandois?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A name you are acquainted with.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is strange,’ she said, frowning, ‘that you should still press an + undesired interest in me and my acquaintances, in me and my affairs, Mr + Clennam. I don’t know what you mean.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pardon me. You know the name?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What can you have to do with the name? What can I have to do with the + name? What can you have to do with my knowing or not knowing any name? I + know many names and I have forgotten many more. This may be in the one + class, or it may be in the other, or I may never have heard it. I am + acquainted with no reason for examining myself, or for being examined, + about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you will allow me,’ said Clennam, ‘I will tell you my reason for + pressing the subject. I admit that I do press it, and I must beg you to + forgive me if I do so, very earnestly. The reason is all mine, I do not + insinuate that it is in any way yours.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ she returned, repeating a little less haughtily than before + her former invitation to him to be seated: to which he now deferred, as + she seated herself. ‘I am at least glad to know that this is not another + bondswoman of some friend of yours, who is bereft of free choice, and whom + I have spirited away. I will hear your reason, if you please.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘First, to identify the person of whom we speak,’ said Clennam, ‘let me + observe that it is the person you met in London some time back. You will + remember meeting him near the river—in the Adelphi!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mix yourself most unaccountably with my business,’ she replied, + looking full at him with stern displeasure. ‘How do you know that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I entreat you not to take it ill. By mere accident.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What accident?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Solely the accident of coming upon you in the street and seeing the + meeting.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you speak of yourself, or of some one else?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of myself. I saw it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To be sure it was in the open street,’ she observed, after a few moments + of less and less angry reflection. ‘Fifty people might have seen it. It + would have signified nothing if they had.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor do I make my having seen it of any moment, nor (otherwise than as an + explanation of my coming here) do I connect my visit with it or the favour + that I have to ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! You have to ask a favour! It occurred to me,’ and the handsome face + looked bitterly at him, ‘that your manner was softened, Mr Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + He was content to protest against this by a slight action without + contesting it in words. He then referred to Blandois’ disappearance, of + which it was probable she had heard? However probable it was to him, she + had heard of no such thing. Let him look round him (she said) and judge + for himself what general intelligence was likely to reach the ears of a + woman who had been shut up there while it was rife, devouring her own + heart. When she had uttered this denial, which he believed to be true, she + asked him what he meant by disappearance? That led to his narrating the + circumstances in detail, and expressing something of his anxiety to + discover what had really become of the man, and to repel the dark + suspicions that clouded about his mother’s house. She heard him with + evident surprise, and with more marks of suppressed interest than he had + seen in her; still they did not overcome her distant, proud, and + self-secluded manner. When he had finished, she said nothing but these + words: + </p> + <p> + ‘You have not yet told me, sir, what I have to do with it, or what the + favour is? Will you be so good as come to that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I assume,’ said Arthur, persevering, in his endeavour to soften her + scornful demeanour, ‘that being in communication—may I say, + confidential communication?—with this person—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may say, of course, whatever you like,’ she remarked; ‘but I do not + subscribe to your assumptions, Mr Clennam, or to any one’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘—that being, at least in personal communication with him,’ said + Clennam, changing the form of his position in the hope of making it + unobjectionable, ‘you can tell me something of his antecedents, pursuits, + habits, usual place of residence. Can give me some little clue by which to + seek him out in the likeliest manner, and either produce him, or establish + what has become of him. This is the favour I ask, and I ask it in a + distress of mind for which I hope you will feel some consideration. If you + should have any reason for imposing conditions upon me, I will respect it + without asking what it is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You chanced to see me in the street with the man,’ she observed, after + being, to his mortification, evidently more occupied with her own + reflections on the matter than with his appeal. ‘Then you knew the man + before?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not before; afterwards. I never saw him before, but I saw him again on + this very night of his disappearance. In my mother’s room, in fact. I left + him there. You will read in this paper all that is known of him.’ + </p> + <p> + He handed her one of the printed bills, which she read with a steady and + attentive face. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is more than <i>I</i> knew of him,’ she said, giving it back. + Clennam’s looks expressed his heavy disappointment, perhaps his + incredulity; for she added in the same unsympathetic tone: ‘You don’t + believe it. Still, it is so. As to personal communication: it seems that + there was personal communication between him and your mother. And yet you + say you believe <i>her</i> declaration that she knows no more of him!’ + </p> + <p> + A sufficiently expressive hint of suspicion was conveyed in these words, + and in the smile by which they were accompanied, to bring the blood into + Clennam’s cheeks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, sir,’ she said, with a cruel pleasure in repeating the stab, ‘I + will be as open with you as you can desire. I will confess that if I cared + for my credit (which I do not), or had a good name to preserve (which I + have not, for I am utterly indifferent to its being considered good or + bad), I should regard myself as heavily compromised by having had anything + to do with this fellow. Yet he never passed in at <i>my</i> door—never + sat in colloquy with <i>me</i> until midnight.’ + </p> + <p> + She took her revenge for her old grudge in thus turning his subject + against him. Hers was not the nature to spare him, and she had no + compunction. + </p> + <p> + ‘That he is a low, mercenary wretch; that I first saw him prowling about + Italy (where I was, not long ago), and that I hired him there, as the + suitable instrument of a purpose I happened to have; I have no objection + to tell you. In short, it was worth my while, for my own pleasure—the + gratification of a strong feeling—to pay a spy who would fetch and + carry for money. I paid this creature. And I dare say that if I had wanted + to make such a bargain, and if I could have paid him enough, and if he + could have done it in the dark, free from all risk, he would have taken + any life with as little scruple as he took my money. That, at least, is my + opinion of him; and I see it is not very far removed from yours. Your + mother’s opinion of him, I am to assume (following your example of + assuming this and that), was vastly different.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My mother, let me remind you,’ said Clennam, ‘was first brought into + communication with him in the unlucky course of business.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It appears to have been an unlucky course of business that last brought + her into communication with him,’ returned Miss Wade; ‘and business hours + on that occasion were late.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You imply,’ said Arthur, smarting under these cool-handed thrusts, of + which he had deeply felt the force already, ‘that there was something—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ she composedly interrupted, ‘recollect that I do not speak + by implication about the man. He is, I say again without disguise, a low + mercenary wretch. I suppose such a creature goes where there is occasion + for him. If I had not had occasion for him, you would not have seen him + and me together.’ + </p> + <p> + Wrung by her persistence in keeping that dark side of the case before him, + of which there was a half-hidden shadow in his own breast, Clennam was + silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have spoken of him as still living,’ she added, ‘but he may have been + put out of the way for anything I know. For anything I care, also. I have + no further occasion for him.’ + </p> + <p> + With a heavy sigh and a despondent air, Arthur Clennam slowly rose. She + did not rise also, but said, having looked at him in the meanwhile with a + fixed look of suspicion, and lips angrily compressed: + </p> + <p> + ‘He was the chosen associate of your dear friend, Mr Gowan, was he not? + Why don’t you ask your dear friend to help you?’ + </p> + <p> + The denial that he was a dear friend rose to Arthur’s lips; but he + repressed it, remembering his old struggles and resolutions, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Further than that he has never seen Blandois since Blandois set out for + England, Mr Gowan knows nothing additional about him. He was a chance + acquaintance, made abroad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A chance acquaintance made abroad!’ she repeated. ‘Yes. Your dear friend + has need to divert himself with all the acquaintances he can make, seeing + what a wife he has. I hate his wife, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + The anger with which she said it, the more remarkable for being so much + under her restraint, fixed Clennam’s attention, and kept him on the spot. + It flashed out of her dark eyes as they regarded him, quivered in her + nostrils, and fired the very breath she exhaled; but her face was + otherwise composed into a disdainful serenity; and her attitude was as + calmly and haughtily graceful as if she had been in a mood of complete + indifference. + </p> + <p> + ‘All I will say is, Miss Wade,’ he remarked, ‘that you can have received + no provocation to a feeling in which I believe you have no sharer.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You may ask your dear friend, if you choose,’ she returned, ‘for his + opinion upon that subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am scarcely on those intimate terms with my dear friend,’ said Arthur, + in spite of his resolutions, ‘that would render my approaching the subject + very probable, Miss Wade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hate him,’ she returned. ‘Worse than his wife, because I was once dupe + enough, and false enough to myself, almost to love him. You have seen me, + sir, only on common-place occasions, when I dare say you have thought me a + common-place woman, a little more self-willed than the generality. You + don’t know what I mean by hating, if you know me no better than that; you + can’t know, without knowing with what care I have studied myself and + people about me. For this reason I have for some time inclined to tell you + what my life has been—not to propitiate your opinion, for I set no + value on it; but that you may comprehend, when you think of your dear + friend and his dear wife, what I mean by hating. Shall I give you + something I have written and put by for your perusal, or shall I hold my + hand?’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur begged her to give it to him. She went to the bureau, unlocked it, + and took from an inner drawer a few folded sheets of paper. Without any + conciliation of him, scarcely addressing him, rather speaking as if she + were speaking to her own looking-glass for the justification of her own + stubbornness, she said, as she gave them to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘Now you may know what I mean by hating! No more of that. Sir, whether you + find me temporarily and cheaply lodging in an empty London house, or in a + Calais apartment, you find Harriet with me. You may like to see her before + you leave. Harriet, come in!’ She called Harriet again. The second call + produced Harriet, once Tattycoram. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here is Mr Clennam,’ said Miss Wade; ‘not come for you; he has given you + up,—I suppose you have, by this time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Having no authority, or influence—yes,’ assented Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not come in search of you, you see; but still seeking some one. He wants + that Blandois man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘With whom I saw you in the Strand in London,’ hinted Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you know anything of him, Harriet, except that he came from Venice—which + we all know—tell it to Mr Clennam freely.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know nothing more about him,’ said the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘Are you satisfied?’ Miss Wade inquired of Arthur. + </p> + <p> + He had no reason to disbelieve them; the girl’s manner being so natural as + to be almost convincing, if he had had any previous doubts. He replied, ‘I + must seek for intelligence elsewhere.’ + </p> + <p> + He was not going in the same breath; but he had risen before the girl + entered, and she evidently thought he was. She looked quickly at him, and + said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Are they well, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who?’ + </p> + <p> + She stopped herself in saying what would have been ‘all of them;’ glanced + at Miss Wade; and said ‘Mr and Mrs Meagles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘They were, when I last heard of them. They are not at home. By the way, + let me ask you. Is it true that you were seen there?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Where? Where does any one say I was seen?’ returned the girl, sullenly + casting down her eyes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Looking in at the garden gate of the cottage.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Miss Wade. ‘She has never been near it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are wrong, then,’ said the girl. ‘I went down there the last time we + were in London. I went one afternoon when you left me alone. And I did + look in.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You poor-spirited girl,’ returned Miss Wade with infinite contempt; ‘does + all our companionship, do all our conversations, do all your old + complainings, tell for so little as that?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There was no harm in looking in at the gate for an instant,’ said the + girl. ‘I saw by the windows that the family were not there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should you go near the place?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I wanted to see it. Because I felt that I should like to look at + it again.’ + </p> + <p> + As each of the two handsome faces looked at the other, Clennam felt how + each of the two natures must be constantly tearing the other to pieces. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Miss Wade, coldly subduing and removing her glance; ‘if you had + any desire to see the place where you led the life from which I rescued + you because you had found out what it was, that is another thing. But is + that your truth to me? Is that your fidelity to me? Is that the common + cause I make with you? You are not worth the confidence I have placed in + you. You are not worth the favour I have shown you. You are no higher than + a spaniel, and had better go back to the people who did worse than whip + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you speak so of them with any one else by to hear, you’ll provoke me + to take their part,’ said the girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go back to them,’ Miss Wade retorted. ‘Go back to them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know very well,’ retorted Harriet in her turn, ‘that I won’t go back + to them. You know very well that I have thrown them off, and never can, + never shall, never will, go back to them. Let them alone, then, Miss + Wade.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You prefer their plenty to your less fat living here,’ she rejoined. ‘You + exalt them, and slight me. What else should I have expected? I ought to + have known it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s not so,’ said the girl, flushing high, ‘and you don’t say what you + mean. I know what you mean. You are reproaching me, underhanded, with + having nobody but you to look to. And because I have nobody but you to + look to, you think you are to make me do, or not do, everything you + please, and are to put any affront upon me. You are as bad as they were, + every bit. But I will not be quite tamed, and made submissive. I will say + again that I went to look at the house, because I had often thought that I + should like to see it once more. I will ask again how they are, because I + once liked them and at times thought they were kind to me.’ + </p> + <p> + Hereupon Clennam said that he was sure they would still receive her + kindly, if she should ever desire to return. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never!’ said the girl passionately. ‘I shall never do that. Nobody knows + that better than Miss Wade, though she taunts me because she has made me + her dependent. And I know I am so; and I know she is overjoyed when she + can bring it to my mind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A good pretence!’ said Miss Wade, with no less anger, haughtiness, and + bitterness; ‘but too threadbare to cover what I plainly see in this. My + poverty will not bear competition with their money. Better go back at + once, better go back at once, and have done with it!’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur Clennam looked at them, standing a little distance asunder in the + dull confined room, each proudly cherishing her own anger; each, with a + fixed determination, torturing her own breast, and torturing the other’s. + He said a word or two of leave-taking; but Miss Wade barely inclined her + head, and Harriet, with the assumed humiliation of an abject dependent and + serf (but not without defiance for all that), made as if she were too low + to notice or to be noticed. + </p> + <p> + He came down the dark winding stairs into the yard with an increased sense + upon him of the gloom of the wall that was dead, and of the shrubs that + were dead, and of the fountain that was dry, and of the statue that was + gone. Pondering much on what he had seen and heard in that house, as well + as on the failure of all his efforts to trace the suspicious character who + was lost, he returned to London and to England by the packet that had + taken him over. On the way he unfolded the sheets of paper, and read in + them what is reproduced in the next chapter. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0057"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 21. The History of a Self-Tormentor + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have the misfortune of not being a fool. From a very early age I have + detected what those about me thought they hid from me. If I could have + been habitually imposed upon, instead of habitually discerning the truth, + I might have lived as smoothly as most fools do. + </p> + <p> + My childhood was passed with a grandmother; that is to say, with a lady + who represented that relative to me, and who took that title on herself. + She had no claim to it, but I—being to that extent a little fool—had + no suspicion of her. She had some children of her own family in her house, + and some children of other people. All girls; ten in number, including me. + We all lived together and were educated together. + </p> + <p> + I must have been about twelve years old when I began to see how + determinedly those girls patronised me. I was told I was an orphan. There + was no other orphan among us; and I perceived (here was the first + disadvantage of not being a fool) that they conciliated me in an insolent + pity, and in a sense of superiority. I did not set this down as a + discovery, rashly. I tried them often. I could hardly make them quarrel + with me. When I succeeded with any of them, they were sure to come after + an hour or two, and begin a reconciliation. I tried them over and over + again, and I never knew them wait for me to begin. They were always + forgiving me, in their vanity and condescension. Little images of grown + people! + </p> + <p> + One of them was my chosen friend. I loved that stupid mite in a passionate + way that she could no more deserve than I can remember without feeling + ashamed of, though I was but a child. She had what they called an amiable + temper, an affectionate temper. She could distribute, and did distribute + pretty looks and smiles to every one among them. I believe there was not a + soul in the place, except myself, who knew that she did it purposely to + wound and gall me! + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, I so loved that unworthy girl that my life was made stormy + by my fondness for her. I was constantly lectured and disgraced for what + was called ‘trying her;’ in other words charging her with her little + perfidy and throwing her into tears by showing her that I read her heart. + However, I loved her faithfully; and one time I went home with her for the + holidays. + </p> + <p> + She was worse at home than she had been at school. She had a crowd of + cousins and acquaintances, and we had dances at her house, and went out to + dances at other houses, and, both at home and out, she tormented my love + beyond endurance. Her plan was, to make them all fond of her—and so + drive me wild with jealousy. To be familiar and endearing with them all—and + so make me mad with envying them. When we were left alone in our bedroom + at night, I would reproach her with my perfect knowledge of her baseness; + and then she would cry and cry and say I was cruel, and then I would hold + her in my arms till morning: loving her as much as ever, and often feeling + as if, rather than suffer so, I could so hold her in my arms and plunge to + the bottom of a river—where I would still hold her after we were + both dead. + </p> + <p> + It came to an end, and I was relieved. In the family there was an aunt who + was not fond of me. I doubt if any of the family liked me much; but I + never wanted them to like me, being altogether bound up in the one girl. + The aunt was a young woman, and she had a serious way with her eyes of + watching me. She was an audacious woman, and openly looked compassionately + at me. After one of the nights that I have spoken of, I came down into a + greenhouse before breakfast. Charlotte (the name of my false young friend) + had gone down before me, and I heard this aunt speaking to her about me as + I entered. I stopped where I was, among the leaves, and listened. + </p> + <p> + The aunt said, ‘Charlotte, Miss Wade is wearing you to death, and this + must not continue.’ I repeat the very words I heard. + </p> + <p> + Now, what did she answer? Did she say, ‘It is I who am wearing her to + death, I who am keeping her on a rack and am the executioner, yet she + tells me every night that she loves me devotedly, though she knows what I + make her undergo?’ No; my first memorable experience was true to what I + knew her to be, and to all my experience. She began sobbing and weeping + (to secure the aunt’s sympathy to herself), and said, ‘Dear aunt, she has + an unhappy temper; other girls at school, besides I, try hard to make it + better; we all try hard.’ + </p> + <p> + Upon that the aunt fondled her, as if she had said something noble instead + of despicable and false, and kept up the infamous pretence by replying, + ‘But there are reasonable limits, my dear love, to everything, and I see + that this poor miserable girl causes you more constant and useless + distress than even so good an effort justifies.’ + </p> + <p> + The poor miserable girl came out of her concealment, as you may be + prepared to hear, and said, ‘Send me home.’ I never said another word to + either of them, or to any of them, but ‘Send me home, or I will walk home + alone, night and day!’ When I got home, I told my supposed grandmother + that, unless I was sent away to finish my education somewhere else before + that girl came back, or before any one of them came back, I would burn my + sight away by throwing myself into the fire, rather than I would endure to + look at their plotting faces. + </p> + <p> + I went among young women next, and I found them no better. Fair words and + fair pretences; but I penetrated below those assertions of themselves and + depreciations of me, and they were no better. Before I left them, I + learned that I had no grandmother and no recognised relation. I carried + the light of that information both into my past and into my future. It + showed me many new occasions on which people triumphed over me, when they + made a pretence of treating me with consideration, or doing me a service. + </p> + <p> + A man of business had a small property in trust for me. I was to be a + governess; I became a governess; and went into the family of a poor + nobleman, where there were two daughters—little children, but the + parents wished them to grow up, if possible, under one instructress. The + mother was young and pretty. From the first, she made a show of behaving + to me with great delicacy. I kept my resentment to myself; but I knew very + well that it was her way of petting the knowledge that she was my + Mistress, and might have behaved differently to her servant if it had been + her fancy. + </p> + <p> + I say I did not resent it, nor did I; but I showed her, by not gratifying + her, that I understood her. When she pressed me to take wine, I took + water. If there happened to be anything choice at table, she always sent + it to me: but I always declined it, and ate of the rejected dishes. These + disappointments of her patronage were a sharp retort, and made me feel + independent. + </p> + <p> + I liked the children. They were timid, but on the whole disposed to attach + themselves to me. There was a nurse, however, in the house, a rosy-faced + woman always making an obtrusive pretence of being gay and good-humoured, + who had nursed them both, and who had secured their affections before I + saw them. I could almost have settled down to my fate but for this woman. + Her artful devices for keeping herself before the children in constant + competition with me, might have blinded many in my place; but I saw + through them from the first. On the pretext of arranging my rooms and + waiting on me and taking care of my wardrobe (all of which she did + busily), she was never absent. The most crafty of her many subtleties was + her feint of seeking to make the children fonder of me. She would lead + them to me and coax them to me. ‘Come to good Miss Wade, come to dear Miss + Wade, come to pretty Miss Wade. She loves you very much. Miss Wade is a + clever lady, who has read heaps of books, and can tell you far better and + more interesting stories than I know. Come and hear Miss Wade!’ How could + I engage their attentions, when my heart was burning against these + ignorant designs? How could I wonder, when I saw their innocent faces + shrinking away, and their arms twining round her neck, instead of mine? + Then she would look up at me, shaking their curls from her face, and say, + ‘They’ll come round soon, Miss Wade; they’re very simple and loving, + ma’am; don’t be at all cast down about it, ma’am’—exulting over me! + </p> + <p> + There was another thing the woman did. At times, when she saw that she had + safely plunged me into a black despondent brooding by these means, she + would call the attention of the children to it, and would show them the + difference between herself and me. ‘Hush! Poor Miss Wade is not well. + Don’t make a noise, my dears, her head aches. Come and comfort her. Come + and ask her if she is better; come and ask her to lie down. I hope you + have nothing on your mind, ma’am. Don’t take on, ma’am, and be sorry!’ + </p> + <p> + It became intolerable. Her ladyship, my Mistress, coming in one day when I + was alone, and at the height of feeling that I could support it no longer, + I told her I must go. I could not bear the presence of that woman Dawes. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Wade! Poor Dawes is devoted to you; would do anything for you!’ + </p> + <p> + I knew beforehand she would say so; I was quite prepared for it; I only + answered, it was not for me to contradict my Mistress; I must go. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope, Miss Wade,’ she returned, instantly assuming the tone of + superiority she had always so thinly concealed, ‘that nothing I have ever + said or done since we have been together, has justified your use of that + disagreeable word, “Mistress.” It must have been wholly inadvertent on my + part. Pray tell me what it is.’ + </p> + <p> + I replied that I had no complaint to make, either of my Mistress or to my + Mistress; but I must go. + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment, and then sat down beside me, and laid her hand on + mine. As if that honour would obliterate any remembrance! + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Wade, I fear you are unhappy, through causes over which I have no + influence.’ + </p> + <p> + I smiled, thinking of the experience the word awakened, and said, ‘I have + an unhappy temper, I suppose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not say that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is an easy way of accounting for anything,’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘It may be; but I did not say so. What I wish to approach is something + very different. My husband and I have exchanged some remarks upon the + subject, when we have observed with pain that you have not been easy with + us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Easy? Oh! You are such great people, my lady,’ said I. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am unfortunate in using a word which may convey a meaning—and + evidently does—quite opposite to my intention.’ (She had not + expected my reply, and it shamed her.) ‘I only mean, not happy with us. It + is a difficult topic to enter on; but, from one young woman to another, + perhaps—in short, we have been apprehensive that you may allow some + family circumstances of which no one can be more innocent than yourself, + to prey upon your spirits. If so, let us entreat you not to make them a + cause of grief. My husband himself, as is well known, formerly had a very + dear sister who was not in law his sister, but who was universally beloved + and respected—’ + </p> + <p> + I saw directly that they had taken me in for the sake of the dead woman, + whoever she was, and to have that boast of me and advantage of me; I saw, + in the nurse’s knowledge of it, an encouragement to goad me as she had + done; and I saw, in the children’s shrinking away, a vague impression, + that I was not like other people. I left that house that night. + </p> + <p> + After one or two short and very similar experiences, which are not to the + present purpose, I entered another family where I had but one pupil: a + girl of fifteen, who was the only daughter. The parents here were elderly + people: people of station, and rich. A nephew whom they had brought up was + a frequent visitor at the house, among many other visitors; and he began + to pay me attention. I was resolute in repulsing him; for I had determined + when I went there, that no one should pity me or condescend to me. But he + wrote me a letter. It led to our being engaged to be married. + </p> + <p> + He was a year younger than I, and young-looking even when that allowance + was made. He was on absence from India, where he had a post that was soon + to grow into a very good one. In six months we were to be married, and + were to go to India. I was to stay in the house, and was to be married + from the house. Nobody objected to any part of the plan. + </p> + <p> + I cannot avoid saying he admired me; but, if I could, I would. Vanity has + nothing to do with the declaration, for his admiration worried me. He took + no pains to hide it; and caused me to feel among the rich people as if he + had bought me for my looks, and made a show of his purchase to justify + himself. They appraised me in their own minds, I saw, and were curious to + ascertain what my full value was. I resolved that they should not know. I + was immovable and silent before them; and would have suffered any one of + them to kill me sooner than I would have laid myself out to bespeak their + approval. + </p> + <p> + He told me I did not do myself justice. I told him I did, and it was + because I did and meant to do so to the last, that I would not stoop to + propitiate any of them. He was concerned and even shocked, when I added + that I wished he would not parade his attachment before them; but he said + he would sacrifice even the honest impulses of his affection to my peace. + </p> + <p> + Under that pretence he began to retort upon me. By the hour together, he + would keep at a distance from me, talking to any one rather than to me. I + have sat alone and unnoticed, half an evening, while he conversed with his + young cousin, my pupil. I have seen all the while, in people’s eyes, that + they thought the two looked nearer on an equality than he and I. I have + sat, divining their thoughts, until I have felt that his young appearance + made me ridiculous, and have raged against myself for ever loving him. + </p> + <p> + For I did love him once. Undeserving as he was, and little as he thought + of all these agonies that it cost me—agonies which should have made + him wholly and gratefully mine to his life’s end—I loved him. I bore + with his cousin’s praising him to my face, and with her pretending to + think that it pleased me, but full well knowing that it rankled in my + breast; for his sake. While I have sat in his presence recalling all my + slights and wrongs, and deliberating whether I should not fly from the + house at once and never see him again—I have loved him. + </p> + <p> + His aunt (my Mistress you will please to remember) deliberately, wilfully, + added to my trials and vexations. It was her delight to expatiate on the + style in which we were to live in India, and on the establishment we + should keep, and the company we should entertain when he got his + advancement. My pride rose against this barefaced way of pointing out the + contrast my married life was to present to my then dependent and inferior + position. I suppressed my indignation; but I showed her that her intention + was not lost upon me, and I repaid her annoyance by affecting humility. + What she described would surely be a great deal too much honour for me, I + would tell her. I was afraid I might not be able to support so great a + change. Think of a mere governess, her daughter’s governess, coming to + that high distinction! It made her uneasy, and made them all uneasy, when + I answered in this way. They knew that I fully understood her. + </p> + <p> + It was at the time when my troubles were at their highest, and when I was + most incensed against my lover for his ingratitude in caring as little as + he did for the innumerable distresses and mortifications I underwent on + his account, that your dear friend, Mr Gowan, appeared at the house. He + had been intimate there for a long time, but had been abroad. He + understood the state of things at a glance, and he understood me. + </p> + <p> + He was the first person I had ever seen in my life who had understood me. + He was not in the house three times before I knew that he accompanied + every movement of my mind. In his coldly easy way with all of them, and + with me, and with the whole subject, I saw it clearly. In his light + protestations of admiration of my future husband, in his enthusiasm + regarding our engagement and our prospects, in his hopeful congratulations + on our future wealth and his despondent references to his own poverty—all + equally hollow, and jesting, and full of mockery—I saw it clearly. + He made me feel more and more resentful, and more and more contemptible, + by always presenting to me everything that surrounded me with some new + hateful light upon it, while he pretended to exhibit it in its best aspect + for my admiration and his own. He was like the dressed-up Death in the + Dutch series; whatever figure he took upon his arm, whether it was youth + or age, beauty or ugliness, whether he danced with it, sang with it, + played with it, or prayed with it, he made it ghastly. + </p> + <p> + You will understand, then, that when your dear friend complimented me, he + really condoled with me; that when he soothed me under my vexations, he + laid bare every smarting wound I had; that when he declared my ‘faithful + swain’ to be ‘the most loving young fellow in the world, with the + tenderest heart that ever beat,’ he touched my old misgiving that I was + made ridiculous. These were not great services, you may say. They were + acceptable to me, because they echoed my own mind, and confirmed my own + knowledge. I soon began to like the society of your dear friend better + than any other. + </p> + <p> + When I perceived (which I did, almost as soon) that jealousy was growing + out of this, I liked this society still better. Had I not been subject to + jealousy, and were the endurances to be all mine? No. Let him know what it + was! I was delighted that he should know it; I was delighted that he + should feel keenly, and I hoped he did. More than that. He was tame in + comparison with Mr Gowan, who knew how to address me on equal terms, and + how to anatomise the wretched people around us. + </p> + <p> + This went on, until the aunt, my Mistress, took it upon herself to speak + to me. It was scarcely worth alluding to; she knew I meant nothing; but + she suggested from herself, knowing it was only necessary to suggest, that + it might be better if I were a little less companionable with Mr Gowan. + </p> + <p> + I asked her how she could answer for what I meant? She could always + answer, she replied, for my meaning nothing wrong. I thanked her, but said + I would prefer to answer for myself and to myself. Her other servants + would probably be grateful for good characters, but I wanted none. + </p> + <p> + Other conversation followed, and induced me to ask her how she knew that + it was only necessary for her to make a suggestion to me, to have it + obeyed? Did she presume on my birth, or on my hire? I was not bought, body + and soul. She seemed to think that her distinguished nephew had gone into + a slave-market and purchased a wife. + </p> + <p> + It would probably have come, sooner or later, to the end to which it did + come, but she brought it to its issue at once. She told me, with assumed + commiseration, that I had an unhappy temper. On this repetition of the old + wicked injury, I withheld no longer, but exposed to her all I had known of + her and seen in her, and all I had undergone within myself since I had + occupied the despicable position of being engaged to her nephew. I told + her that Mr Gowan was the only relief I had had in my degradation; that I + had borne it too long, and that I shook it off too late; but that I would + see none of them more. And I never did. + </p> + <p> + Your dear friend followed me to my retreat, and was very droll on the + severance of the connection; though he was sorry, too, for the excellent + people (in their way the best he had ever met), and deplored the necessity + of breaking mere house-flies on the wheel. He protested before long, and + far more truly than I then supposed, that he was not worth acceptance by a + woman of such endowments, and such power of character; but—well, + well—! + </p> + <p> + Your dear friend amused me and amused himself as long as it suited his + inclinations; and then reminded me that we were both people of the world, + that we both understood mankind, that we both knew there was no such thing + as romance, that we were both prepared for going different ways to seek + our fortunes like people of sense, and that we both foresaw that whenever + we encountered one another again we should meet as the best friends on + earth. So he said, and I did not contradict him. + </p> + <p> + It was not very long before I found that he was courting his present wife, + and that she had been taken away to be out of his reach. I hated her then, + quite as much as I hate her now; and naturally, therefore, could desire + nothing better than that she should marry him. But I was restlessly + curious to look at her—so curious that I felt it to be one of the + few sources of entertainment left to me. I travelled a little: travelled + until I found myself in her society, and in yours. Your dear friend, I + think, was not known to you then, and had not given you any of those + signal marks of his friendship which he has bestowed upon you. + </p> + <p> + In that company I found a girl, in various circumstances of whose position + there was a singular likeness to my own, and in whose character I was + interested and pleased to see much of the rising against swollen patronage + and selfishness, calling themselves kindness, protection, benevolence, and + other fine names, which I have described as inherent in my nature. I often + heard it said, too, that she had ‘an unhappy temper.’ Well understanding + what was meant by the convenient phrase, and wanting a companion with a + knowledge of what I knew, I thought I would try to release the girl from + her bondage and sense of injustice. I have no occasion to relate that I + succeeded. + </p> + <p> + We have been together ever since, sharing my small means. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0058"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 22. Who passes by this Road so late? + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>rthur Clennam had made his unavailing expedition to Calais in the midst + of a great pressure of business. A certain barbaric Power with valuable + possessions on the map of the world, had occasion for the services of one + or two engineers, quick in invention and determined in execution: + practical men, who could make the men and means their ingenuity perceived + to be wanted out of the best materials they could find at hand; and who + were as bold and fertile in the adaptation of such materials to their + purpose, as in the conception of their purpose itself. This Power, being a + barbaric one, had no idea of stowing away a great national object in a + Circumlocution Office, as strong wine is hidden from the light in a cellar + until its fire and youth are gone, and the labourers who worked in the + vineyard and pressed the grapes are dust. With characteristic ignorance, + it acted on the most decided and energetic notions of How to do it; and + never showed the least respect for, or gave any quarter to, the great + political science, How not to do it. Indeed it had a barbarous way of + striking the latter art and mystery dead, in the person of any enlightened + subject who practised it. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly, the men who were wanted were sought out and found; which was + in itself a most uncivilised and irregular way of proceeding. Being found, + they were treated with great confidence and honour (which again showed + dense political ignorance), and were invited to come at once and do what + they had to do. In short, they were regarded as men who meant to do it, + engaging with other men who meant it to be done. + </p> + <p> + Daniel Doyce was one of the chosen. There was no foreseeing at that time + whether he would be absent months or years. The preparations for his + departure, and the conscientious arrangement for him of all the details + and results of their joint business, had necessitated labour within a + short compass of time, which had occupied Clennam day and night. He had + slipped across the water in his first leisure, and had slipped as quickly + back again for his farewell interview with Doyce. + </p> + <p> + Him Arthur now showed, with pains and care, the state of their gains and + losses, responsibilities and prospects. Daniel went through it all in his + patient manner, and admired it all exceedingly. He audited the accounts, + as if they were a far more ingenious piece of mechanism than he had ever + constructed, and afterwards stood looking at them, weighing his hat over + his head by the brims, as if he were absorbed in the contemplation of some + wonderful engine. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all beautiful, Clennam, in its regularity and order. Nothing can be + plainer. Nothing can be better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad you approve, Doyce. Now, as to the management of your capital + while you are away, and as to the conversion of so much of it as the + business may need from time to time—’ His partner stopped him. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to that, and as to everything else of that kind, all rests with you. + You will continue in all such matters to act for both of us, as you have + done hitherto, and to lighten my mind of a load it is much relieved from.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Though, as I often tell you,’ returned Clennam, ‘you unreasonably + depreciate your business qualities.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps so,’ said Doyce, smiling. ‘And perhaps not. Anyhow, I have a + calling that I have studied more than such matters, and that I am better + fitted for. I have perfect confidence in my partner, and I am satisfied + that he will do what is best. If I have a prejudice connected with money + and money figures,’ continued Doyce, laying that plastic workman’s thumb + of his on the lapel of his partner’s coat, ‘it is against speculating. I + don’t think I have any other. I dare say I entertain that prejudice, only + because I have never given my mind fully to the subject.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But you shouldn’t call it a prejudice,’ said Clennam. ‘My dear Doyce, it + is the soundest sense.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am glad you think so,’ returned Doyce, with his grey eye looking kind + and bright. + </p> + <p> + ‘It so happens,’ said Clennam, ‘that just now, not half an hour before you + came down, I was saying the same thing to Pancks, who looked in here. We + both agreed that to travel out of safe investments is one of the most + dangerous, as it is one of the most common, of those follies which often + deserve the name of vices.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pancks?’ said Doyce, tilting up his hat at the back, and nodding with an + air of confidence. ‘Aye, aye, aye! That’s a cautious fellow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He is a very cautious fellow indeed,’ returned Arthur. ‘Quite a specimen + of caution.’ + </p> + <p> + They both appeared to derive a larger amount of satisfaction from the + cautious character of Mr Pancks, than was quite intelligible, judged by + the surface of their conversation. + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said Daniel, looking at his watch, ‘as time and tide wait for + no man, my trusty partner, and as I am ready for starting, bag and + baggage, at the gate below, let me say a last word. I want you to grant a + request of mine.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Any request you can make—Except,’ Clennam was quick with his + exception, for his partner’s face was quick in suggesting it, ‘except that + I will abandon your invention.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s the request, and you know it is,’ said Doyce. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, No, then. I say positively, No. Now that I have begun, I will have + some definite reason, some responsible statement, something in the nature + of a real answer, from those people.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You will not,’ returned Doyce, shaking his head. ‘Take my word for it, + you never will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At least, I’ll try,’ said Clennam. ‘It will do me no harm to try.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not certain of that,’ rejoined Doyce, laying his hand persuasively + on his shoulder. ‘It has done me harm, my friend. It has aged me, tired + me, vexed me, disappointed me. It does no man any good to have his + patience worn out, and to think himself ill-used. I fancy, even already, + that unavailing attendance on delays and evasions has made you something + less elastic than you used to be.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Private anxieties may have done that for the moment,’ said Clennam, ‘but + not official harrying. Not yet. I am not hurt yet.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you won’t grant my request?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Decidedly, No,’ said Clennam. ‘I should be ashamed if I submitted to be + so soon driven out of the field, where a much older and a much more + sensitively interested man contended with fortitude so long.’ + </p> + <p> + As there was no moving him, Daniel Doyce returned the grasp of his hand, + and, casting a farewell look round the counting-house, went down-stairs + with him. Doyce was to go to Southampton to join the small staff of his + fellow-travellers; and a coach was at the gate, well furnished and packed, + and ready to take him there. The workmen were at the gate to see him off, + and were mightily proud of him. ‘Good luck to you, Mr Doyce!’ said one of + the number. ‘Wherever you go, they’ll find as they’ve got a man among ‘em, + a man as knows his tools and as his tools knows, a man as is willing and a + man as is able, and if that’s not a man, where is a man!’ This oration + from a gruff volunteer in the back-ground, not previously suspected of any + powers in that way, was received with three loud cheers; and the speaker + became a distinguished character for ever afterwards. In the midst of the + three loud cheers, Daniel gave them all a hearty ‘Good Bye, Men!’ and the + coach disappeared from sight, as if the concussion of the air had blown it + out of Bleeding Heart Yard. + </p> + <p> + Mr Baptist, as a grateful little fellow in a position of trust, was among + the workmen, and had done as much towards the cheering as a mere foreigner + could. In truth, no men on earth can cheer like Englishmen, who do so + rally one another’s blood and spirit when they cheer in earnest, that the + stir is like the rush of their whole history, with all its standards + waving at once, from Saxon Alfred’s downwards. Mr Baptist had been in a + manner whirled away before the onset, and was taking his breath in quite a + scared condition when Clennam beckoned him to follow up-stairs, and return + the books and papers to their places. + </p> + <p> + In the lull consequent on the departure—in that first vacuity which + ensues on every separation, foreshadowing the great separation that is + always overhanging all mankind—Arthur stood at his desk, looking + dreamily out at a gleam of sun. But his liberated attention soon reverted + to the theme that was foremost in his thoughts, and began, for the + hundredth time, to dwell upon every circumstance that had impressed itself + upon his mind on the mysterious night when he had seen the man at his + mother’s. Again the man jostled him in the crooked street, again he + followed the man and lost him, again he came upon the man in the + court-yard looking at the house, again he followed the man and stood + beside him on the door-steps. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + It was not the first time, by many, that he had recalled the song of the + child’s game, of which the fellow had hummed this verse while they stood + side by side; but he was so unconscious of having repeated it audibly, + that he started to hear the next verse. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Of all the king’s knights ‘tis the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine; + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Of all the king’s knights ‘tis the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + Cavalletto had deferentially suggested the words and tune, supposing him + to have stopped short for want of more. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! You know the song, Cavalletto?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By Bacchus, yes, sir! They all know it in France. I have heard it many + times, sung by the little children. The last time when it I have heard,’ + said Mr Baptist, formerly Cavalletto, who usually went back to his native + construction of sentences when his memory went near home, ‘is from a sweet + little voice. A little voice, very pretty, very innocent. Altro!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The last time I heard it,’ returned Arthur, ‘was in a voice quite the + reverse of pretty, and quite the reverse of innocent.’ He said it more to + himself than to his companion, and added to himself, repeating the man’s + next words. ‘Death of my life, sir, it’s my character to be impatient!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘EH!’ cried Cavalletto, astounded, and with all his colour gone in a + moment. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir! You know where I have heard that song the last time?’ + </p> + <p> + With his rapid native action, his hands made the outline of a high hook + nose, pushed his eyes near together, dishevelled his hair, puffed out his + upper lip to represent a thick moustache, and threw the heavy end of an + ideal cloak over his shoulder. While doing this, with a swiftness + incredible to one who has not watched an Italian peasant, he indicated a + very remarkable and sinister smile. The whole change passed over him like + a flash of light, and he stood in the same instant, pale and astonished, + before his patron. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the name of Fate and wonder,’ said Clennam, ‘what do you mean? Do you + know a man of the name of Blandois?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No!’ said Mr Baptist, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have just now described a man who was by when you heard that song; + have you not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes!’ said Mr Baptist, nodding fifty times. + </p> + <p> + ‘And was he not called Blandois?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No!’ said Mr Baptist. ‘Altro, Altro, Altro, Altro!’ He could not reject + the name sufficiently, with his head and his right forefinger going at + once. + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay!’ cried Clennam, spreading out the handbill on his desk. ‘Was this + the man? You can understand what I read aloud?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Altogether. Perfectly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But look at it, too. Come here and look over me, while I read.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Baptist approached, followed every word with his quick eyes, saw and + heard it all out with the greatest impatience, then clapped his two hands + flat upon the bill as if he had fiercely caught some noxious creature, and + cried, looking eagerly at Clennam, ‘It is the man! Behold him!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is of far greater moment to me’ said Clennam, in great agitation, + ‘than you can imagine. Tell me where you knew the man.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Baptist, releasing the paper very slowly and with much discomfiture, + and drawing himself back two or three paces, and making as though he + dusted his hands, returned, very much against his will: + </p> + <p> + ‘At Marsiglia—Marseilles.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What was he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A prisoner, and—Altro! I believe yes!—an,’ Mr Baptist crept + closer again to whisper it, ‘Assassin!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam fell back as if the word had struck him a blow: so terrible did it + make his mother’s communication with the man appear. Cavalletto dropped on + one knee, and implored him, with a redundancy of gesticulation, to hear + what had brought himself into such foul company. + </p> + <p> + He told with perfect truth how it had come of a little contraband trading, + and how he had in time been released from prison, and how he had gone away + from those antecedents. How, at the house of entertainment called the + Break of Day at Chalons on the Saone, he had been awakened in his bed at + night by the same assassin, then assuming the name of Lagnier, though his + name had formerly been Rigaud; how the assassin had proposed that they + should join their fortunes together; how he held the assassin in such + dread and aversion that he had fled from him at daylight, and how he had + ever since been haunted by the fear of seeing the assassin again and being + claimed by him as an acquaintance. When he had related this, with an + emphasis and poise on the word, ‘assassin,’ peculiarly belonging to his + own language, and which did not serve to render it less terrible to + Clennam, he suddenly sprang to his feet, pounced upon the bill again, and + with a vehemence that would have been absolute madness in any man of + Northern origin, cried ‘Behold the same assassin! Here he is!’ + </p> + <p> + In his passionate raptures, he at first forgot the fact that he had lately + seen the assassin in London. On his remembering it, it suggested hope to + Clennam that the recognition might be of later date than the night of the + visit at his mother’s; but Cavalletto was too exact and clear about time + and place, to leave any opening for doubt that it had preceded that + occasion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Listen,’ said Arthur, very seriously. ‘This man, as we have read here, + has wholly disappeared.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of it I am well content!’ said Cavalletto, raising his eyes piously. ‘A + thousand thanks to Heaven! Accursed assassin!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not so,’ returned Clennam; ‘for until something more is heard of him, I + can never know an hour’s peace.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Enough, Benefactor; that is quite another thing. A million of excuses!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Cavalletto,’ said Clennam, gently turning him by the arm, so that + they looked into each other’s eyes. ‘I am certain that for the little I + have been able to do for you, you are the most sincerely grateful of men.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I swear it!’ cried the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it. If you could find this man, or discover what has become of + him, or gain any later intelligence whatever of him, you would render me a + service above any other service I could receive in the world, and would + make me (with far greater reason) as grateful to you as you are to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know not where to look,’ cried the little man, kissing Arthur’s hand in + a transport. ‘I know not where to begin. I know not where to go. But, + courage! Enough! It matters not! I go, in this instant of time!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a word to any one but me, Cavalletto.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Al-tro!’ cried Cavalletto. And was gone with great speed. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0059"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 23. Mistress Affery makes a Conditional Promise, + </h2> + <p> + respecting her Dreams + </p> + <p> + Left alone, with the expressive looks and gestures of Mr Baptist, + otherwise Giovanni Baptista Cavalletto, vividly before him, Clennam + entered on a weary day. It was in vain that he tried to control his + attention by directing it to any business occupation or train of thought; + it rode at anchor by the haunting topic, and would hold to no other idea. + As though a criminal should be chained in a stationary boat on a deep + clear river, condemned, whatever countless leagues of water flowed past + him, always to see the body of the fellow-creature he had drowned lying at + the bottom, immovable, and unchangeable, except as the eddies made it + broad or long, now expanding, now contracting its terrible lineaments; so + Arthur, below the shifting current of transparent thoughts and fancies + which were gone and succeeded by others as soon as come, saw, steady and + dark, and not to be stirred from its place, the one subject that he + endeavoured with all his might to rid himself of, and that he could not + fly from. + </p> + <p> + The assurance he now had, that Blandois, whatever his right name, was one + of the worst of characters, greatly augmented the burden of his anxieties. + Though the disappearance should be accounted for to-morrow, the fact that + his mother had been in communication with such a man, would remain + unalterable. That the communication had been of a secret kind, and that + she had been submissive to him and afraid of him, he hoped might be known + to no one beyond himself; yet, knowing it, how could he separate it from + his old vague fears, and how believe that there was nothing evil in such + relations? + </p> + <p> + Her resolution not to enter on the question with him, and his knowledge of + her indomitable character, enhanced his sense of helplessness. It was like + the oppression of a dream to believe that shame and exposure were + impending over her and his father’s memory, and to be shut out, as by a + brazen wall, from the possibility of coming to their aid. The purpose he + had brought home to his native country, and had ever since kept in view, + was, with her greatest determination, defeated by his mother herself, at + the time of all others when he feared that it pressed most. His advice, + energy, activity, money, credit, all his resources whatsoever, were all + made useless. If she had been possessed of the old fabled influence, and + had turned those who looked upon her into stone, she could not have + rendered him more completely powerless (so it seemed to him in his + distress of mind) than she did, when she turned her unyielding face to his + in her gloomy room. + </p> + <p> + But the light of that day’s discovery, shining on these considerations, + roused him to take a more decided course of action. Confident in the + rectitude of his purpose, and impelled by a sense of overhanging danger + closing in around, he resolved, if his mother would still admit of no + approach, to make a desperate appeal to Affery. If she could be brought to + become communicative, and to do what lay in her to break the spell of + secrecy that enshrouded the house, he might shake off the paralysis of + which every hour that passed over his head made him more acutely sensible. + This was the result of his day’s anxiety, and this was the decision he put + in practice when the day closed in. + </p> + <p> + His first disappointment, on arriving at the house, was to find the door + open, and Mr Flintwinch smoking a pipe on the steps. If circumstances had + been commonly favourable, Mistress Affery would have opened the door to + his knock. Circumstances being uncommonly unfavourable, the door stood + open, and Mr Flintwinch was smoking his pipe on the steps. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening,’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good evening,’ said Mr Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + The smoke came crookedly out of Mr Flintwinch’s mouth, as if it circulated + through the whole of his wry figure and came back by his wry throat, + before coming forth to mingle with the smoke from the crooked chimneys and + the mists from the crooked river. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you any news?’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘We have no news,’ said Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean of the foreign man,’ Arthur explained. + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>I</i> mean of the foreign man,’ said Jeremiah. + </p> + <p> + He looked so grim, as he stood askew, with the knot of his cravat under + his ear, that the thought passed into Clennam’s mind, and not for the + first time by many, could Flintwinch for a purpose of his own have got rid + of Blandois? Could it have been his secret, and his safety, that were at + issue? He was small and bent, and perhaps not actively strong; yet he was + as tough as an old yew-tree, and as crusty as an old jackdaw. Such a man, + coming behind a much younger and more vigorous man, and having the will to + put an end to him and no relenting, might do it pretty surely in that + solitary place at a late hour. + </p> + <p> + While, in the morbid condition of his thoughts, these thoughts drifted + over the main one that was always in Clennam’s mind, Mr Flintwinch, + regarding the opposite house over the gateway with his neck twisted and + one eye shut up, stood smoking with a vicious expression upon him; more as + if he were trying to bite off the stem of his pipe, than as if he were + enjoying it. Yet he was enjoying it in his own way. + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll be able to take my likeness, the next time you call, Arthur, I + should think,’ said Mr Flintwinch, drily, as he stooped to knock the ashes + out. + </p> + <p> + Rather conscious and confused, Arthur asked his pardon, if he had stared + at him unpolitely. ‘But my mind runs so much upon this matter,’ he said, + ‘that I lose myself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah! Yet I don’t see,’ returned Mr Flintwinch, quite at his leisure, ‘why + it should trouble <i>you</i>, Arthur.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ said Mr Flintwinch, very shortly and decidedly: much as if he were + of the canine race, and snapped at Arthur’s hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it nothing to see those placards about? Is it nothing to me to see my + mother’s name and residence hawked up and down in such an association?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t see,’ returned Mr Flintwinch, scraping his horny cheek, ‘that it + need signify much to you. But I’ll tell you what I do see, Arthur,’ + glancing up at the windows; ‘I see the light of fire and candle in your + mother’s room!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what has that to do with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, sir, I read by it,’ said Mr Flintwinch, screwing himself at him, + ‘that if it’s advisable (as the proverb says it is) to let sleeping dogs + lie, it’s just as advisable, perhaps, to let missing dogs lie. Let ‘em be. + They generally turn up soon enough.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch turned short round when he had made this remark, and went + into the dark hall. Clennam stood there, following him with his eyes, as + he dipped for a light in the phosphorus-box in the little room at the + side, got one after three or four dips, and lighted the dim lamp against + the wall. All the while, Clennam was pursuing the probabilities—rather + as if they were being shown to him by an invisible hand than as if he + himself were conjuring them up—of Mr Flintwinch’s ways and means of + doing that darker deed, and removing its traces by any of the black + avenues of shadow that lay around them. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, sir,’ said the testy Jeremiah; ‘will it be agreeable to walk + up-stairs?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My mother is alone, I suppose?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not alone,’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Mr Casby and his daughter are with her. + They came in while I was smoking, and I stayed behind to have my smoke + out.’ + </p> + <p> + This was the second disappointment. Arthur made no remark upon it, and + repaired to his mother’s room, where Mr Casby and Flora had been taking + tea, anchovy paste, and hot buttered toast. The relics of those delicacies + were not yet removed, either from the table or from the scorched + countenance of Affery, who, with the kitchen toasting-fork still in her + hand, looked like a sort of allegorical personage; except that she had a + considerable advantage over the general run of such personages in point of + significant emblematical purpose. + </p> + <p> + Flora had spread her bonnet and shawl upon the bed, with a care indicative + of an intention to stay some time. Mr Casby, too, was beaming near the + hob, with his benevolent knobs shining as if the warm butter of the toast + were exuding through the patriarchal skull, and with his face as ruddy as + if the colouring matter of the anchovy paste were mantling in the + patriarchal visage. Seeing this, as he exchanged the usual salutations, + Clennam decided to speak to his mother without postponement. + </p> + <p> + It had long been customary, as she never changed her room, for those who + had anything to say to her apart, to wheel her to her desk; where she sat, + usually with the back of her chair turned towards the rest of the room, + and the person who talked with her seated in a corner, on a stool which + was always set in that place for that purpose. Except that it was long + since the mother and son had spoken together without the intervention of a + third person, it was an ordinary matter of course within the experience of + visitors for Mrs Clennam to be asked, with a word of apology for the + interruption, if she could be spoken with on a matter of business, and, on + her replying in the affirmative, to be wheeled into the position + described. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, when Arthur now made such an apology, and such a request, and + moved her to her desk and seated himself on the stool, Mrs Finching merely + began to talk louder and faster, as a delicate hint that she could + overhear nothing, and Mr Casby stroked his long white locks with sleepy + calmness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, I have heard something to-day which I feel persuaded you don’t + know, and which I think you should know, of the antecedents of that man I + saw here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know nothing of the antecedents of the man you saw here, Arthur.’ + </p> + <p> + She spoke aloud. He had lowered his own voice; but she rejected that + advance towards confidence as she rejected every other, and spoke in her + usual key and in her usual stern voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have received it on no circuitous information; it has come to me + direct.’ + </p> + <p> + She asked him, exactly as before, if he were there to tell her what it + was? + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought it right that you should know it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He has been a prisoner in a French gaol.’ + </p> + <p> + She answered with composure, ‘I should think that very likely.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But in a gaol for criminals, mother. On an accusation of murder.’ + </p> + <p> + She started at the word, and her looks expressed her natural horror. Yet + she still spoke aloud, when she demanded:— + </p> + <p> + ‘Who told you so?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘A man who was his fellow-prisoner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That man’s antecedents, I suppose, were not known to you, before he told + you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Though the man himself was?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My case and Flintwinch’s, in respect of this other man! I dare say the + resemblance is not so exact, though, as that your informant became known + to you through a letter from a correspondent with whom he had deposited + money? How does that part of the parallel stand?’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur had no choice but to say that his informant had not become known to + him through the agency of any such credentials, or indeed of any + credentials at all. Mrs Clennam’s attentive frown expanded by degrees into + a severe look of triumph, and she retorted with emphasis, ‘Take care how + you judge others, then. I say to you, Arthur, for your good, take care how + you judge!’ + </p> + <p> + Her emphasis had been derived from her eyes quite as much as from the + stress she laid upon her words. She continued to look at him; and if, when + he entered the house, he had had any latent hope of prevailing in the + least with her, she now looked it out of his heart. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mother, shall I do nothing to assist you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you entrust me with no confidence, no charge, no explanation? Will + you take no counsel with me? Will you not let me come near you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How can you ask me? You separated yourself from my affairs. It was not my + act; it was yours. How can you consistently ask me such a question? You + know that you left me to Flintwinch, and that he occupies your place.’ + </p> + <p> + Glancing at Jeremiah, Clennam saw in his very gaiters that his attention + was closely directed to them, though he stood leaning against the wall + scraping his jaw, and pretended to listen to Flora as she held forth in a + most distracting manner on a chaos of subjects, in which mackerel, and Mr + F.‘s Aunt in a swing, had become entangled with cockchafers and the wine + trade. + </p> + <p> + ‘A prisoner, in a French gaol, on an accusation of murder,’ repeated Mrs + Clennam, steadily going over what her son had said. ‘That is all you know + of him from the fellow-prisoner?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In substance, all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And was the fellow-prisoner his accomplice and a murderer, too? But, of + course, he gives a better account of himself than of his friend; it is + needless to ask. This will supply the rest of them here with something new + to talk about. Casby, Arthur tells me—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Stay, mother! Stay, stay!’ He interrupted her hastily, for it had not + entered his imagination that she would openly proclaim what he had told + her. + </p> + <p> + ‘What now?’ she said with displeasure. ‘What more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I beg you to excuse me, Mr Casby—and you, too, Mrs Finching—for + one other moment with my mother—’ + </p> + <p> + He had laid his hand upon her chair, or she would otherwise have wheeled + it round with the touch of her foot upon the ground. They were still face + to face. She looked at him, as he ran over the possibilities of some + result he had not intended, and could not foresee, being influenced by + Cavalletto’s disclosure becoming a matter of notoriety, and hurriedly + arrived at the conclusion that it had best not be talked about; though + perhaps he was guided by no more distinct reason than that he had taken it + for granted that his mother would reserve it to herself and her partner. + </p> + <p> + ‘What now?’ she said again, impatiently. ‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did not mean, mother, that you should repeat what I have communicated. + I think you had better not repeat it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you make that a condition with me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well! Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Observe, then! It is you who make this a secret,’ said she, holding up + her hand, ‘and not I. It is you, Arthur, who bring here doubts and + suspicions and entreaties for explanations, and it is you, Arthur, who + bring secrets here. What is it to me, do you think, where the man has + been, or what he has been? What can it be to me? The whole world may know + it, if they care to know it; it is nothing to me. Now, let me go.’ + </p> + <p> + He yielded to her imperious but elated look, and turned her chair back to + the place from which he had wheeled it. In doing so he saw elation in the + face of Mr Flintwinch, which most assuredly was not inspired by Flora. + This turning of his intelligence and of his whole attempt and design + against himself, did even more than his mother’s fixedness and firmness to + convince him that his efforts with her were idle. Nothing remained but the + appeal to his old friend Affery. + </p> + <p> + But even to get the very doubtful and preliminary stage of making the + appeal, seemed one of the least promising of human undertakings. She was + so completely under the thrall of the two clever ones, was so + systematically kept in sight by one or other of them, and was so afraid to + go about the house besides, that every opportunity of speaking to her + alone appeared to be forestalled. Over and above that, Mistress Affery, by + some means (it was not very difficult to guess, through the sharp + arguments of her liege lord), had acquired such a lively conviction of the + hazard of saying anything under any circumstances, that she had remained + all this time in a corner guarding herself from approach with that + symbolical instrument of hers; so that, when a word or two had been + addressed to her by Flora, or even by the bottle-green patriarch himself, + she had warded off conversation with the toasting-fork like a dumb woman. + </p> + <p> + After several abortive attempts to get Affery to look at him while she + cleared the table and washed the tea-service, Arthur thought of an + expedient which Flora might originate. To whom he therefore whispered, + ‘Could you say you would like to go through the house?’ + </p> + <p> + Now, poor Flora, being always in fluctuating expectation of the time when + Clennam would renew his boyhood and be madly in love with her again, + received the whisper with the utmost delight; not only as rendered + precious by its mysterious character, but as preparing the way for a + tender interview in which he would declare the state of his affections. + She immediately began to work out the hint. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah dear me the poor old room,’ said Flora, glancing round, ‘looks just as + ever Mrs Clennam I am touched to see except for being smokier which was to + be expected with time and which we must all expect and reconcile ourselves + to being whether we like it or not as I am sure I have had to do myself if + not exactly smokier dreadfully stouter which is the same or worse, to + think of the days when papa used to bring me here the least of girls a + perfect mass of chilblains to be stuck upon a chair with my feet on the + rails and stare at Arthur—pray excuse me—Mr Clennam—the + least of boys in the frightfullest of frills and jackets ere yet Mr F. + appeared a misty shadow on the horizon paying attentions like the + well-known spectre of some place in Germany beginning with a B is a moral + lesson inculcating that all the paths in life are similar to the paths + down in the North of England where they get the coals and make the iron + and things gravelled with ashes!’ + </p> + <p> + Having paid the tribute of a sigh to the instability of human existence, + Flora hurried on with her purpose. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not that at any time,’ she proceeded, ‘its worst enemy could have said it + was a cheerful house for that it was never made to be but always highly + impressive, fond memory recalls an occasion in youth ere yet the judgment + was mature when Arthur—confirmed habit—Mr Clennam—took + me down into an unused kitchen eminent for mouldiness and proposed to + secrete me there for life and feed me on what he could hide from his meals + when he was not at home for the holidays and on dry bread in disgrace + which at that halcyon period too frequently occurred, would it be + inconvenient or asking too much to beg to be permitted to revive those + scenes and walk through the house?’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam, who responded with a constrained grace to Mrs Finching’s good + nature in being there at all, though her visit (before Arthur’s unexpected + arrival) was undoubtedly an act of pure good nature and no + self-gratification, intimated that all the house was open to her. Flora + rose and looked to Arthur for his escort. ‘Certainly,’ said he, aloud; + ‘and Affery will light us, I dare say.’ + </p> + <p> + Affery was excusing herself with ‘Don’t ask nothing of me, Arthur!’ when + Mr Flintwinch stopped her with ‘Why not? Affery, what’s the matter with + you, woman? Why not, jade!’ Thus expostulated with, she came unwillingly + out of her corner, resigned the toasting-fork into one of her husband’s + hands, and took the candlestick he offered from the other. + </p> + <p> + ‘Go before, you fool!’ said Jeremiah. ‘Are you going up, or down, Mrs + Finching?’ + </p> + <p> + Flora answered, ‘Down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then go before, and down, you Affery,’ said Jeremiah. ‘And do it + properly, or I’ll come rolling down the banisters, and tumbling over you!’ + </p> + <p> + Affery headed the exploring party; Jeremiah closed it. He had no intention + of leaving them. Clennam looking back, and seeing him following three + stairs behind, in the coolest and most methodical manner exclaimed in a + low voice, ‘Is there no getting rid of him!’ Flora reassured his mind by + replying promptly, ‘Why though not exactly proper Arthur and a thing I + couldn’t think of before a younger man or a stranger still I don’t mind + him if you so particularly wish it and provided you’ll have the goodness + not to take me too tight.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0611m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0611m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0611.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Wanting the heart to explain that this was not at all what he meant, + Arthur extended his supporting arm round Flora’s figure. ‘Oh my goodness + me,’ said she. ‘You are very obedient indeed really and it’s extremely + honourable and gentlemanly in you I am sure but still at the same time if + you would like to be a little tighter than that I shouldn’t consider it + intruding.’ + </p> + <p> + In this preposterous attitude, unspeakably at variance with his anxious + mind, Clennam descended to the basement of the house; finding that + wherever it became darker than elsewhere, Flora became heavier, and that + when the house was lightest she was too. Returning from the dismal kitchen + regions, which were as dreary as they could be, Mistress Affery passed + with the light into his father’s old room, and then into the old + dining-room; always passing on before like a phantom that was not to be + overtaken, and neither turning nor answering when he whispered, ‘Affery! I + want to speak to you!’ + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room, a sentimental desire came over Flora to look into the + dragon closet which had so often swallowed Arthur in the days of his + boyhood—not improbably because, as a very dark closet, it was a + likely place to be heavy in. Arthur, fast subsiding into despair, had + opened it, when a knock was heard at the outer door. + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery, with a suppressed cry, threw her apron over her head. + </p> + <p> + ‘What? You want another dose!’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘You shall have it, my + woman, you shall have a good one! Oh! You shall have a sneezer, you shall + have a teaser!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In the meantime is anybody going to the door?’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the meantime, <i>I</i> am going to the door, sir,’ returned the old + man so savagely, as to render it clear that in a choice of difficulties he + felt he must go, though he would have preferred not to go. ‘Stay here the + while, all! Affery, my woman, move an inch, or speak a word in your + foolishness, and I’ll treble your dose!’ + </p> + <p> + The moment he was gone, Arthur released Mrs Finching: with some + difficulty, by reason of that lady misunderstanding his intentions, and + making arrangements with a view to tightening instead of slackening. + </p> + <p> + ‘Affery, speak to me now!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t touch me, Arthur!’ she cried, shrinking from him. ‘Don’t come near + me. He’ll see you. Jeremiah will. Don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He can’t see me,’ returned Arthur, suiting the action to the word, ‘if I + blow the candle out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’ll hear you,’ cried Affery. + </p> + <p> + ‘He can’t hear me,’ returned Arthur, suiting the action to the words + again, ‘if I draw you into this black closet, and speak here. Why do you + hide your face?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because I am afraid of seeing something.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You can’t be afraid of seeing anything in this darkness, Affery.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes I am. Much more than if it was light.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you afraid?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Because the house is full of mysteries and secrets; because it’s full of + whisperings and counsellings; because it’s full of noises. There never was + such a house for noises. I shall die of ‘em, if Jeremiah don’t strangle me + first. As I expect he will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have never heard any noises here, worth speaking of.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! But you would, though, if you lived in the house, and was obliged to + go about it as I am,’ said Affery; ‘and you’d feel that they was so well + worth speaking of, that you’d feel you was nigh bursting through not being + allowed to speak of ‘em. Here’s Jeremiah! You’ll get me killed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My good Affery, I solemnly declare to you that I can see the light of the + open door on the pavement of the hall, and so could you if you would + uncover your face and look.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I durstn’t do it,’ said Affery, ‘I durstn’t never, Arthur. I’m always + blind-folded when Jeremiah an’t a looking, and sometimes even when he is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He cannot shut the door without my seeing him,’ said Arthur. ‘You are as + safe with me as if he was fifty miles away.’ + </p> + <p> + (‘I wish he was!’ cried Affery.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Affery, I want to know what is amiss here; I want some light thrown on + the secrets of this house.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you, Arthur,’ she interrupted, ‘noises is the secrets, rustlings + and stealings about, tremblings, treads overhead and treads underneath.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But those are not all the secrets.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know,’ said Affery. ‘Don’t ask me no more. Your old sweetheart + an’t far off, and she’s a blabber.’ + </p> + <p> + His old sweetheart, being in fact so near at hand that she was then + reclining against him in a flutter, a very substantial angle of forty-five + degrees, here interposed to assure Mistress Affery with greater + earnestness than directness of asseveration, that what she heard should go + no further, but should be kept inviolate, ‘if on no other account on + Arthur’s—sensible of intruding in being too familiar Doyce and + Clennam’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I make an imploring appeal to you, Affery, to you, one of the few + agreeable early remembrances I have, for my mother’s sake, for your + husband’s sake, for my own, for all our sakes. I am sure you can tell me + something connected with the coming here of this man, if you will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, then I’ll tell you, Arthur,’ returned Affery—‘Jeremiah’s + coming!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, indeed he is not. The door is open, and he is standing outside, + talking.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you then,’ said Affery, after listening, ‘that the first time + he ever come he heard the noises his own self. “What’s that?” he said to + me. “I don’t know what it is,” I says to him, catching hold of him, “but I + have heard it over and over again.” While I says it, he stands a looking + at me, all of a shake, he do.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Has he been here often?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only that night, and the last night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What did you see of him on the last night, after I was gone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Them two clever ones had him all alone to themselves. Jeremiah come a + dancing at me sideways, after I had let you out (he always comes a dancing + at me sideways when he’s going to hurt me), and he said to me, “Now, + Affery,” he said, “I am a coming behind you, my woman, and a going to run + you up.” So he took and squeezed the back of my neck in his hand, till it + made me open my mouth, and then he pushed me before him to bed, squeezing + all the way. That’s what he calls running me up, he do. Oh, he’s a wicked + one!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And did you hear or see no more, Affery?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t I tell you I was sent to bed, Arthur! Here he is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I assure you he is still at the door. Those whisperings and counsellings, + Affery, that you have spoken of. What are they?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How should I know? Don’t ask me nothing about ‘em, Arthur. Get away!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But my dear Affery; unless I can gain some insight into these hidden + things, in spite of your husband and in spite of my mother, ruin will come + of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t ask me nothing,’ repeated Affery. ‘I have been in a dream for ever + so long. Go away, go away!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You said that before,’ returned Arthur. ‘You used the same expression + that night, at the door, when I asked you what was going on here. What do + you mean by being in a dream?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I an’t a going to tell you. Get away! I shouldn’t tell you, if you was by + yourself; much less with your old sweetheart here.’ + </p> + <p> + It was equally vain for Arthur to entreat, and for Flora to protest. + Affery, who had been trembling and struggling the whole time, turned a + deaf ear to all adjuration, and was bent on forcing herself out of the + closet. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d sooner scream to Jeremiah than say another word! I’ll call out to + him, Arthur, if you don’t give over speaking to me. Now here’s the very + last word I’ll say afore I call to him—If ever you begin to get the + better of them two clever ones your own self (you ought to it, as I told + you when you first come home, for you haven’t been a living here long + years, to be made afeared of your life as I have), then do you get the + better of ‘em afore my face; and then do you say to me, Affery tell your + dreams! Maybe, then I’ll tell ‘em!’ + </p> + <p> + The shutting of the door stopped Arthur from replying. They glided into + the places where Jeremiah had left them; and Clennam, stepping forward as + that old gentleman returned, informed him that he had accidentally + extinguished the candle. Mr Flintwinch looked on as he re-lighted it at + the lamp in the hall, and preserved a profound taciturnity respecting the + person who had been holding him in conversation. Perhaps his irascibility + demanded compensation for some tediousness that the visitor had expended + on him; however that was, he took such umbrage at seeing his wife with her + apron over her head, that he charged at her, and taking her veiled nose + between his thumb and finger, appeared to throw the whole screw-power of + his person into the wring he gave it. + </p> + <p> + Flora, now permanently heavy, did not release Arthur from the survey of + the house, until it had extended even to his old garret bedchamber. His + thoughts were otherwise occupied than with the tour of inspection; yet he + took particular notice at the time, as he afterwards had occasion to + remember, of the airlessness and closeness of the house; that they left + the track of their footsteps in the dust on the upper floors; and that + there was a resistance to the opening of one room door, which occasioned + Affery to cry out that somebody was hiding inside, and to continue to + believe so, though somebody was sought and not discovered. When they at + last returned to his mother’s room, they found her shading her face with + her muffled hand, and talking in a low voice to the Patriarch as he stood + before the fire, whose blue eyes, polished head, and silken locks, turning + towards them as they came in, imparted an inestimable value and + inexhaustible love of his species to his remark: + </p> + <p> + ‘So you have been seeing the premises, seeing the premises—premises— + seeing the premises!’ + </p> + <p> + It was not in itself a jewel of benevolence or wisdom, yet he made it an + exemplar of both that one would have liked to have a copy of. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0060"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 24. The Evening of a Long Day + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat illustrious man and great national ornament, Mr Merdle, continued his + shining course. It began to be widely understood that one who had done + society the admirable service of making so much money out of it, could not + be suffered to remain a commoner. A baronetcy was spoken of with + confidence; a peerage was frequently mentioned. Rumour had it that Mr + Merdle had set his golden face against a baronetcy; that he had plainly + intimated to Lord Decimus that a baronetcy was not enough for him; that he + had said, ‘No—a Peerage, or plain Merdle.’ This was reported to have + plunged Lord Decimus as nigh to his noble chin in a slough of doubts as so + lofty a person could be sunk. For the Barnacles, as a group of themselves + in creation, had an idea that such distinctions belonged to them; and that + when a soldier, sailor, or lawyer became ennobled, they let him in, as it + were, by an act of condescension, at the family door, and immediately shut + it again. Not only (said Rumour) had the troubled Decimus his own + hereditary part in this impression, but he also knew of several Barnacle + claims already on the file, which came into collision with that of the + master spirit. Right or wrong, Rumour was very busy; and Lord Decimus, + while he was, or was supposed to be, in stately excogitation of the + difficulty, lent her some countenance by taking, on several public + occasions, one of those elephantine trots of his through a jungle of + overgrown sentences, waving Mr Merdle about on his trunk as Gigantic + Enterprise, The Wealth of England, Elasticity, Credit, Capital, + Prosperity, and all manner of blessings. + </p> + <p> + So quietly did the mowing of the old scythe go on, that fully three months + had passed unnoticed since the two English brothers had been laid in one + tomb in the strangers’ cemetery at Rome. Mr and Mrs Sparkler were + established in their own house: a little mansion, rather of the Tite + Barnacle class, quite a triumph of inconvenience, with a perpetual smell + in it of the day before yesterday’s soup and coach-horses, but extremely + dear, as being exactly in the centre of the habitable globe. In this + enviable abode (and envied it really was by many people), Mrs Sparkler had + intended to proceed at once to the demolition of the Bosom, when active + hostilities had been suspended by the arrival of the Courier with his + tidings of death. Mrs Sparkler, who was not unfeeling, had received them + with a violent burst of grief, which had lasted twelve hours; after which, + she had arisen to see about her mourning, and to take every precaution + that could ensure its being as becoming as Mrs Merdle’s. A gloom was then + cast over more than one distinguished family (according to the politest + sources of intelligence), and the Courier went back again. + </p> + <p> + Mr and Mrs Sparkler had been dining alone, with their gloom cast over + them, and Mrs Sparkler reclined on a drawing-room sofa. It was a hot + summer Sunday evening. The residence in the centre of the habitable globe, + at all times stuffed and close as if it had an incurable cold in its head, + was that evening particularly stifling. The bells of the churches had done + their worst in the way of clanging among the unmelodious echoes of the + streets, and the lighted windows of the churches had ceased to be yellow + in the grey dusk, and had died out opaque black. Mrs Sparkler, lying on + her sofa, looking through an open window at the opposite side of a narrow + street over boxes of mignonette and flowers, was tired of the view. Mrs + Sparkler, looking at another window where her husband stood in the + balcony, was tired of that view. Mrs Sparkler, looking at herself in her + mourning, was even tired of that view: though, naturally, not so tired of + that as of the other two. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s like lying in a well,’ said Mrs Sparkler, changing her position + fretfully. ‘Dear me, Edmund, if you have anything to say, why don’t you + say it?’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler might have replied with ingenuousness, ‘My life, I have + nothing to say.’ But, as the repartee did not occur to him, he contented + himself with coming in from the balcony and standing at the side of his + wife’s couch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good gracious, Edmund!’ said Mrs Sparkler more fretfully still, ‘you are + absolutely putting mignonette up your nose! Pray don’t!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler, in absence of mind—perhaps in a more literal absence of + mind than is usually understood by the phrase—had smelt so hard at a + sprig in his hand as to be on the verge of the offence in question. He + smiled, said, ‘I ask your pardon, my dear,’ and threw it out of window. + </p> + <p> + ‘You make my head ache by remaining in that position, Edmund,’ said Mrs + Sparkler, raising her eyes to him after another minute; ‘you look so + aggravatingly large by this light. Do sit down.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Certainly, my dear,’ said Mr Sparkler, and took a chair on the same spot. + </p> + <p> + ‘If I didn’t know that the longest day was past,’ said Fanny, yawning in a + dreary manner, ‘I should have felt certain this was the longest day. I + never did experience such a day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is that your fan, my love?’ asked Mr Sparkler, picking up one and + presenting it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund,’ returned his wife, more wearily yet, ‘don’t ask weak questions, + I entreat you not. Whose can it be but mine?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I thought it was yours,’ said Mr Sparkler. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then you shouldn’t ask,’ retorted Fanny. After a little while she turned + on her sofa and exclaimed, ‘Dear me, dear me, there never was such a long + day as this!’ After another little while, she got up slowly, walked about, + and came back again. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mr Sparkler, flashing with an original conception, ‘I + think you must have got the fidgets.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, Fidgets!’ repeated Mrs Sparkler. ‘Don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My adorable girl,’ urged Mr Sparkler, ‘try your aromatic vinegar. I have + often seen my mother try it, and it seemingly refreshed her. + </p> + <p> + And she is, as I believe you are aware, a remarkably fine woman, with no + non—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good Gracious!’ exclaimed Fanny, starting up again. ‘It’s beyond all + patience! This is the most wearisome day that ever did dawn upon the + world, I am certain.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler looked meekly after her as she lounged about the room, and he + appeared to be a little frightened. When she had tossed a few trifles + about, and had looked down into the darkening street out of all the three + windows, she returned to her sofa, and threw herself among its pillows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now Edmund, come here! Come a little nearer, because I want to be able to + touch you with my fan, that I may impress you very much with what I am + going to say. That will do. Quite close enough. Oh, you <i>do</i> look so + big!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler apologised for the circumstance, pleaded that he couldn’t help + it, and said that ‘our fellows,’ without more particularly indicating + whose fellows, used to call him by the name of Quinbus Flestrin, Junior, + or the Young Man Mountain. + </p> + <p> + ‘You ought to have told me so before,’ Fanny complained. + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ returned Mr Sparkler, rather gratified, ‘I didn’t know It would + interest you, or I would have made a point of telling you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There! For goodness sake, don’t talk,’ said Fanny; ‘I want to talk, + myself. Edmund, we must not be alone any more. I must take such + precautions as will prevent my being ever again reduced to the state of + dreadful depression in which I am this evening.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ answered Mr Sparkler; ‘being as you are well known to be, a + remarkably fine woman with no—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, good GRACIOUS!’ cried Fanny. + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler was so discomposed by the energy of this exclamation, + accompanied with a flouncing up from the sofa and a flouncing down again, + that a minute or two elapsed before he felt himself equal to saying in + explanation: + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean, my dear, that everybody knows you are calculated to shine in + society.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Calculated to shine in society,’ retorted Fanny with great irritability; + ‘yes, indeed! And then what happens? I no sooner recover, in a visiting + point of view, the shock of poor dear papa’s death, and my poor uncle’s—though + I do not disguise from myself that the last was a happy release, for, if + you are not presentable you had much better die—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are not referring to me, my love, I hope?’ Mr Sparkler humbly + interrupted. + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund, Edmund, you would wear out a Saint. Am I not expressly speaking + of my poor uncle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You looked with so much expression at myself, my dear girl,’ said Mr + Sparkler, ‘that I felt a little uncomfortable. Thank you, my love.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now you have put me out,’ observed Fanny with a resigned toss of her fan, + ‘and I had better go to bed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t do that, my love,’ urged Mr Sparkler. ‘Take time.’ + </p> + <p> + Fanny took a good deal of time: lying back with her eyes shut, and her + eyebrows raised with a hopeless expression as if she had utterly given up + all terrestrial affairs. At length, without the slightest notice, she + opened her eyes again, and recommenced in a short, sharp manner: + </p> + <p> + ‘What happens then, I ask! What happens? Why, I find myself at the very + period when I might shine most in society, and should most like for very + momentous reasons to shine in society—I find myself in a situation + which to a certain extent disqualifies me for going into society. It’s too + bad, really!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mr Sparkler. ‘I don’t think it need keep you at home.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund, you ridiculous creature,’ returned Fanny, with great indignation; + ‘do you suppose that a woman in the bloom of youth and not wholly devoid + of personal attractions, can put herself, at such a time, in competition + as to figure with a woman in every other way her inferior? If you do + suppose such a thing, your folly is boundless.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler submitted that he had thought ‘it might be got over.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Got over!’ repeated Fanny, with immeasurable scorn. + </p> + <p> + ‘For a time,’ Mr Sparkler submitted. + </p> + <p> + Honouring the last feeble suggestion with no notice, Mrs Sparkler declared + with bitterness that it really was too bad, and that positively it was + enough to make one wish one was dead! + </p> + <p> + ‘However,’ she said, when she had in some measure recovered from her sense + of personal ill-usage; ‘provoking as it is, and cruel as it seems, I + suppose it must be submitted to.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Especially as it was to be expected,’ said Mr Sparkler. + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund,’ returned his wife, ‘if you have nothing more becoming to do than + to attempt to insult the woman who has honoured you with her hand, when + she finds herself in adversity, I think <i>you</i> had better go to bed!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler was much afflicted by the charge, and offered a most tender + and earnest apology. His apology was accepted; but Mrs Sparkler requested + him to go round to the other side of the sofa and sit in the + window-curtain, to tone himself down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Edmund,’ she said, stretching out her fan, and touching him with it + at arm’s length, ‘what I was going to say to you when you began as usual + to prose and worry, is, that I shall guard against our being alone any + more, and that when circumstances prevent my going out to my own + satisfaction, I must arrange to have some people or other always here; for + I really cannot, and will not, have another such day as this has been.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler’s sentiments as to the plan were, in brief, that it had no + nonsense about it. He added, ‘And besides, you know it’s likely that + you’ll soon have your sister—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dearest Amy, yes!’ cried Mrs Sparkler with a sigh of affection. ‘Darling + little thing! Not, however, that Amy would do here alone.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler was going to say ‘No?’ interrogatively, but he saw his danger + and said it assentingly, ‘No, Oh dear no; she wouldn’t do here alone.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, Edmund. For not only are the virtues of the precious child of that + still character that they require a contrast—require life and + movement around them to bring them out in their right colours and make one + love them of all things; but she will require to be roused, on more + accounts than one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s it,’ said Mr Sparkler. ‘Roused.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray don’t, Edmund! Your habit of interrupting without having the least + thing in the world to say, distracts one. You must be broken of it. + Speaking of Amy;—my poor little pet was devotedly attached to poor + papa, and no doubt will have lamented his loss exceedingly, and grieved + very much. I have done so myself. I have felt it dreadfully. But Amy will + no doubt have felt it even more, from having been on the spot the whole + time, and having been with poor dear papa at the last; which I unhappily + was not.’ + </p> + <p> + Here Fanny stopped to weep, and to say, ‘Dear, dear, beloved papa! How + truly gentlemanly he was! What a contrast to poor uncle!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘From the effects of that trying time,’ she pursued, ‘my good little Mouse + will have to be roused. Also, from the effects of this long attendance + upon Edward in his illness; an attendance which is not yet over, which may + even go on for some time longer, and which in the meanwhile unsettles us + all by keeping poor dear papa’s affairs from being wound up. Fortunately, + however, the papers with his agents here being all sealed up and locked + up, as he left them when he providentially came to England, the affairs + are in that state of order that they can wait until my brother Edward + recovers his health in Sicily, sufficiently to come over, and administer, + or execute, or whatever it may be that will have to be done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He couldn’t have a better nurse to bring him round,’ Mr Sparkler made + bold to opine. + </p> + <p> + ‘For a wonder, I can agree with you,’ returned his wife, languidly turning + her eyelids a little in his direction (she held forth, in general, as if + to the drawing-room furniture), ‘and can adopt your words. He couldn’t + have a better nurse to bring him round. There are times when my dear child + is a little wearing to an active mind; but, as a nurse, she is Perfection. + Best of Amys!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler, growing rash on his late success, observed that Edward had + had, biggodd, a long bout of it, my dear girl. + </p> + <p> + ‘If Bout, Edmund,’ returned Mrs Sparkler, ‘is the slang term for + indisposition, he has. If it is not, I am unable to give an opinion on the + barbarous language you address to Edward’s sister. That he contracted + Malaria Fever somewhere, either by travelling day and night to Rome, + where, after all, he arrived too late to see poor dear papa before his + death—or under some other unwholesome circumstances—is + indubitable, if that is what you mean. Likewise that his extremely + careless life has made him a very bad subject for it indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler considered it a parallel case to that of some of our fellows + in the West Indies with Yellow Jack. Mrs Sparkler closed her eyes again, + and refused to have any consciousness of our fellows of the West Indies, + or of Yellow Jack. + </p> + <p> + ‘So, Amy,’ she pursued, when she reopened her eyelids, ‘will require to be + roused from the effects of many tedious and anxious weeks. And lastly, she + will require to be roused from a low tendency which I know very well to be + at the bottom of her heart. Don’t ask me what it is, Edmund, because I + must decline to tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not going to, my dear,’ said Mr Sparkler. + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall thus have much improvement to effect in my sweet child,’ Mrs + Sparkler continued, ‘and cannot have her near me too soon. Amiable and + dear little Twoshoes! As to the settlement of poor papa’s affairs, my + interest in that is not very selfish. Papa behaved very generously to me + when I was married, and I have little or nothing to expect. Provided he + had made no will that can come into force, leaving a legacy to Mrs + General, I am contented. Dear papa, dear papa.’ + </p> + <p> + She wept again, but Mrs General was the best of restoratives. The name + soon stimulated her to dry her eyes and say: + </p> + <p> + ‘It is a highly encouraging circumstance in Edward’s illness, I am + thankful to think, and gives one the greatest confidence in his sense not + being impaired, or his proper spirit weakened—down to the time of + poor dear papa’s death at all events—that he paid off Mrs General + instantly, and sent her out of the house. I applaud him for it. I could + forgive him a great deal for doing, with such promptitude, so exactly what + I would have done myself!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Sparkler was in the full glow of her gratification, when a double + knock was heard at the door. A very odd knock. Low, as if to avoid making + a noise and attracting attention. Long, as if the person knocking were + preoccupied in mind, and forgot to leave off. + </p> + <p> + ‘Halloa!’ said Mr Sparkler. ‘Who’s this?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not Amy and Edward without notice and without a carriage!’ said Mrs + Sparkler. ‘Look out.’ + </p> + <p> + The room was dark, but the street was lighter, because of its lamps. Mr + Sparkler’s head peeping over the balcony looked so very bulky and heavy + that it seemed on the point of overbalancing him and flattening the + unknown below. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s one fellow,’ said Mr Sparkler. ‘I can’t see who—stop though!’ + </p> + <p> + On this second thought he went out into the balcony again and had another + look. He came back as the door was opened, and announced that he believed + he had identified ‘his governor’s tile.’ He was not mistaken, for his + governor, with his tile in his hand, was introduced immediately + afterwards. + </p> + <p> + ‘Candles!’ said Mrs Sparkler, with a word of excuse for the darkness. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s light enough for me,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + When the candles were brought in, Mr Merdle was discovered standing behind + the door, picking his lips. ‘I thought I’d give you a call,’ he said. ‘I + am rather particularly occupied just now; and, as I happened to be out for + a stroll, I thought I’d give you a call.’ + </p> + <p> + As he was in dinner dress, Fanny asked him where he had been dining? + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I haven’t been dining anywhere, particularly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course you have dined?’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why—no, I haven’t exactly dined,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + He had passed his hand over his yellow forehead and considered, as if he + were not sure about it. Something to eat was proposed. ‘No, thank you,’ + said Mr Merdle, ‘I don’t feel inclined for it. I was to have dined out + along with Mrs Merdle. But as I didn’t feel inclined for dinner, I let Mrs + Merdle go by herself just as we were getting into the carriage, and + thought I’d take a stroll instead.’ + </p> + <p> + Would he have tea or coffee? ‘No, thank you,’ said Mr Merdle. ‘I looked in + at the Club, and got a bottle of wine.’ + </p> + <p> + At this period of his visit, Mr Merdle took the chair which Edmund + Sparkler had offered him, and which he had hitherto been pushing slowly + about before him, like a dull man with a pair of skates on for the first + time, who could not make up his mind to start. He now put his hat upon + another chair beside him, and, looking down into it as if it were some + twenty feet deep, said again: ‘You see I thought I’d give you a call.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flattering to us,’ said Fanny, ‘for you are not a calling man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No—no,’ returned Mr Merdle, who was by this time taking himself + into custody under both coat-sleeves. ‘No, I am not a calling man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You have too much to do for that,’ said Fanny. ‘Having so much to do, Mr + Merdle, loss of appetite is a serious thing with you, and you must have it + seen to. You must not be ill.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I am very well,’ replied Mr Merdle, after deliberating about it. ‘I + am as well as I usually am. I am well enough. I am as well as I want to + be.’ + </p> + <p> + The master-mind of the age, true to its characteristic of being at all + times a mind that had as little as possible to say for itself and great + difficulty in saying it, became mute again. Mrs Sparkler began to wonder + how long the master-mind meant to stay. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was speaking of poor papa when you came in, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Aye! Quite a coincidence,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + Fanny did not see that; but felt it incumbent on her to continue talking. + ‘I was saying,’ she pursued, ‘that my brother’s illness has occasioned a + delay in examining and arranging papa’s property.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Mr Merdle; ‘yes. There has been a delay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not that it is of consequence,’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not,’ assented Mr Merdle, after having examined the cornice of all that + part of the room which was within his range: ‘not that it is of any + consequence.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My only anxiety is,’ said Fanny, ‘that Mrs General should not get + anything.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>She</i> won’t get anything,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + Fanny was delighted to hear him express the opinion. Mr Merdle, after + taking another gaze into the depths of his hat as if he thought he saw + something at the bottom, rubbed his hair and slowly appended to his last + remark the confirmatory words, ‘Oh dear no. No. Not she. Not likely.’ + </p> + <p> + As the topic seemed exhausted, and Mr Merdle too, Fanny inquired if he + were going to take up Mrs Merdle and the carriage in his way home? + </p> + <p> + ‘No,’ he answered; ‘I shall go by the shortest way, and leave Mrs Merdle + to—’ here he looked all over the palms of both his hands as if he + were telling his own fortune—‘to take care of herself. I dare say + she’ll manage to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Probably,’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + There was then a long silence; during which, Mrs Sparkler, lying back on + her sofa again, shut her eyes and raised her eyebrows in her former + retirement from mundane affairs. + </p> + <p> + ‘But, however,’ said Mr Merdle, ‘I am equally detaining you and myself. I + thought I’d give you a call, you know.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Charmed, I am sure,’ said Fanny. + </p> + <p> + ‘So I am off,’ added Mr Merdle, getting up. ‘Could you lend me a + penknife?’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0624m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0624m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0624.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + It was an odd thing, Fanny smilingly observed, for her who could seldom + prevail upon herself even to write a letter, to lend to a man of such vast + business as Mr Merdle. ‘Isn’t it?’ Mr Merdle acquiesced; ‘but I want one; + and I know you have got several little wedding keepsakes about, with + scissors and tweezers and such things in them. You shall have it back + to-morrow.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Edmund,’ said Mrs Sparkler, ‘open (now, very carefully, I beg and + beseech, for you are so very awkward) the mother of pearl box on my little + table there, and give Mr Merdle the mother of pearl penknife.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said Mr Merdle; ‘but if you have got one with a darker + handle, I think I should prefer one with a darker handle.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tortoise-shell?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you,’ said Mr Merdle; ‘yes. I think I should prefer + tortoise-shell.’ + </p> + <p> + Edmund accordingly received instructions to open the tortoise-shell box, + and give Mr Merdle the tortoise-shell knife. On his doing so, his wife + said to the master-spirit graciously: + </p> + <p> + ‘I will forgive you, if you ink it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll undertake not to ink it,’ said Mr Merdle. + </p> + <p> + The illustrious visitor then put out his coat-cuff, and for a moment + entombed Mrs Sparkler’s hand: wrist, bracelet, and all. Where his own hand + had shrunk to, was not made manifest, but it was as remote from Mrs + Sparkler’s sense of touch as if he had been a highly meritorious Chelsea + Veteran or Greenwich Pensioner. + </p> + <p> + Thoroughly convinced, as he went out of the room, that it was the longest + day that ever did come to an end at last, and that there never was a + woman, not wholly devoid of personal attractions, so worn out by idiotic + and lumpish people, Fanny passed into the balcony for a breath of air. + Waters of vexation filled her eyes; and they had the effect of making the + famous Mr Merdle, in going down the street, appear to leap, and waltz, and + gyrate, as if he were possessed of several Devils. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0061"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 25. The Chief Butler Resigns the Seals of Office + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he dinner-party was at the great Physician’s. Bar was there, and in full + force. Ferdinand Barnacle was there, and in his most engaging state. Few + ways of life were hidden from Physician, and he was oftener in its darkest + places than even Bishop. There were brilliant ladies about London who + perfectly doted on him, my dear, as the most charming creature and the + most delightful person, who would have been shocked to find themselves so + close to him if they could have known on what sights those thoughtful eyes + of his had rested within an hour or two, and near to whose beds, and under + what roofs, his composed figure had stood. But Physician was a composed + man, who performed neither on his own trumpet, nor on the trumpets of + other people. Many wonderful things did he see and hear, and much + irreconcilable moral contradiction did he pass his life among; yet his + equality of compassion was no more disturbed than the Divine Master’s of + all healing was. He went, like the rain, among the just and unjust, doing + all the good he could, and neither proclaiming it in the synagogues nor at + the corner of streets. + </p> + <p> + As no man of large experience of humanity, however quietly carried it may + be, can fail to be invested with an interest peculiar to the possession of + such knowledge, Physician was an attractive man. Even the daintier + gentlemen and ladies who had no idea of his secret, and who would have + been startled out of more wits than they had, by the monstrous impropriety + of his proposing to them ‘Come and see what I see!’ confessed his + attraction. Where he was, something real was. And half a grain of reality, + like the smallest portion of some other scarce natural productions, will + flavour an enormous quantity of diluent. + </p> + <p> + It came to pass, therefore, that Physician’s little dinners always + presented people in their least conventional lights. The guests said to + themselves, whether they were conscious of it or no, ‘Here is a man who + really has an acquaintance with us as we are, who is admitted to some of + us every day with our wigs and paint off, who hears the wanderings of our + minds, and sees the undisguised expression of our faces, when both are + past our control; we may as well make an approach to reality with him, for + the man has got the better of us and is too strong for us.’ Therefore, + Physician’s guests came out so surprisingly at his round table that they + were almost natural. + </p> + <p> + Bar’s knowledge of that agglomeration of jurymen which is called humanity + was as sharp as a razor; yet a razor is not a generally convenient + instrument, and Physician’s plain bright scalpel, though far less keen, + was adaptable to far wider purposes. Bar knew all about the gullibility + and knavery of people; but Physician could have given him a better insight + into their tendernesses and affections, in one week of his rounds, than + Westminster Hall and all the circuits put together, in threescore years + and ten. Bar always had a suspicion of this, and perhaps was glad to + encourage it (for, if the world were really a great Law Court, one would + think that the last day of Term could not too soon arrive); and so he + liked and respected Physician quite as much as any other kind of man did. + </p> + <p> + Mr Merdle’s default left a Banquo’s chair at the table; but, if he had + been there, he would have merely made the difference of Banquo in it, and + consequently he was no loss. Bar, who picked up all sorts of odds and ends + about Westminster Hall, much as a raven would have done if he had passed + as much of his time there, had been picking up a great many straws lately + and tossing them about, to try which way the Merdle wind blew. He now had + a little talk on the subject with Mrs Merdle herself; sidling up to that + lady, of course, with his double eye-glass and his jury droop. + </p> + <p> + ‘A certain bird,’ said Bar; and he looked as if it could have been no + other bird than a magpie; ‘has been whispering among us lawyers lately, + that there is to be an addition to the titled personages of this realm.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Really?’ said Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ said Bar. ‘Has not the bird been whispering in very different ears + from ours—in lovely ears?’ He looked expressively at Mrs Merdle’s + nearest ear-ring. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you mean mine?’ asked Mrs Merdle. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I say lovely,’ said Bar, ‘I always mean you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You never mean anything, I think,’ returned Mrs Merdle (not displeased). + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, cruelly unjust!’ said Bar. ‘But, the bird.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am the last person in the world to hear news,’ observed Mrs Merdle, + carelessly arranging her stronghold. ‘Who is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What an admirable witness you would make!’ said Bar. ‘No jury (unless we + could empanel one of blind men) could resist you, if you were ever so bad + a one; but you would be such a good one!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, you ridiculous man?’ asked Mrs Merdle, laughing. + </p> + <p> + Bar waved his double eye-glass three or four times between himself and the + Bosom, as a rallying answer, and inquired in his most insinuating accents: + </p> + <p> + ‘What am I to call the most elegant, accomplished and charming of women, a + few weeks, or it may be a few days, hence?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Didn’t your bird tell you what to call her?’ answered Mrs Merdle. ‘Do ask + it to-morrow, and tell me the next time you see me what it says.’ + </p> + <p> + This led to further passages of similar pleasantry between the two; but + Bar, with all his sharpness, got nothing out of them. Physician, on the + other hand, taking Mrs Merdle down to her carriage and attending on her as + she put on her cloak, inquired into the symptoms with his usual calm + directness. + </p> + <p> + ‘May I ask,’ he said, ‘is this true about Merdle?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear doctor,’ she returned, ‘you ask me the very question that I was + half disposed to ask you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To ask me! Why me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my honour, I think Mr Merdle reposes greater confidence in you than + in any one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘On the contrary, he tells me absolutely nothing, even professionally. You + have heard the talk, of course?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I have. But you know what Mr Merdle is; you know how taciturn + and reserved he is. I assure you I have no idea what foundation for it + there may be. I should like it to be true; why should I deny that to you? + You would know better, if I did!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Just so,’ said Physician. + </p> + <p> + ‘But whether it is all true, or partly true, or entirely false, I am + wholly unable to say. It is a most provoking situation, a most absurd + situation; but you know Mr Merdle, and are not surprised.’ + </p> + <p> + Physician was not surprised, handed her into her carriage, and bade her + Good Night. He stood for a moment at his own hall door, looking sedately + at the elegant equipage as it rattled away. On his return up-stairs, the + rest of the guests soon dispersed, and he was left alone. Being a great + reader of all kinds of literature (and never at all apologetic for that + weakness), he sat down comfortably to read. + </p> + <p> + The clock upon his study table pointed to a few minutes short of twelve, + when his attention was called to it by a ringing at the door bell. A man + of plain habits, he had sent his servants to bed and must needs go down to + open the door. He went down, and there found a man without hat or coat, + whose shirt sleeves were rolled up tight to his shoulders. For a moment, + he thought the man had been fighting: the rather, as he was much agitated + and out of breath. A second look, however, showed him that the man was + particularly clean, and not otherwise discomposed as to his dress than as + it answered this description. + </p> + <p> + ‘I come from the warm-baths, sir, round in the neighbouring street.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And what is the matter at the warm-baths?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Would you please to come directly, sir. We found that, lying on the + table.’ + </p> + <p> + He put into the physician’s hand a scrap of paper. Physician looked at it, + and read his own name and address written in pencil; nothing more. He + looked closer at the writing, looked at the man, took his hat from its + peg, put the key of his door in his pocket, and they hurried away + together. + </p> + <p> + When they came to the warm-baths, all the other people belonging to that + establishment were looking out for them at the door, and running up and + down the passages. ‘Request everybody else to keep back, if you please,’ + said the physician aloud to the master; ‘and do you take me straight to + the place, my friend,’ to the messenger. + </p> + <p> + The messenger hurried before him, along a grove of little rooms, and + turning into one at the end of the grove, looked round the door. Physician + was close upon him, and looked round the door too. + </p> + <p> + There was a bath in that corner, from which the water had been hastily + drained off. Lying in it, as in a grave or sarcophagus, with a hurried + drapery of sheet and blanket thrown across it, was the body of a + heavily-made man, with an obtuse head, and coarse, mean, common features. + A sky-light had been opened to release the steam with which the room had + been filled; but it hung, condensed into water-drops, heavily upon the + walls, and heavily upon the face and figure in the bath. The room was + still hot, and the marble of the bath still warm; but the face and figure + were clammy to the touch. The white marble at the bottom of the bath was + veined with a dreadful red. On the ledge at the side, were an empty + laudanum-bottle and a tortoise-shell handled penknife—soiled, but + not with ink. + </p> + <p> + ‘Separation of jugular vein—death rapid—been dead at least + half an hour.’ This echo of the physician’s words ran through the passages + and little rooms, and through the house while he was yet straightening + himself from having bent down to reach to the bottom of the bath, and + while he was yet dabbling his hands in water; redly veining it as the + marble was veined, before it mingled into one tint. + </p> + <p> + He turned his eyes to the dress upon the sofa, and to the watch, money, + and pocket-book on the table. A folded note half buckled up in the + pocket-book, and half protruding from it, caught his observant glance. He + looked at it, touched it, pulled it a little further out from among the + leaves, said quietly, ‘This is addressed to me,’ and opened and read it. + </p> + <p> + There were no directions for him to give. The people of the house knew + what to do; the proper authorities were soon brought; and they took an + equable business-like possession of the deceased, and of what had been his + property, with no greater disturbance of manner or countenance than + usually attends the winding-up of a clock. Physician was glad to walk out + into the night air—was even glad, in spite of his great experience, + to sit down upon a door-step for a little while: feeling sick and faint. + </p> + <p> + Bar was a near neighbour of his, and, when he came to the house, he saw a + light in the room where he knew his friend often sat late getting up his + work. As the light was never there when Bar was not, it gave him assurance + that Bar was not yet in bed. In fact, this busy bee had a verdict to get + to-morrow, against evidence, and was improving the shining hours in + setting snares for the gentlemen of the jury. + </p> + <p> + Physician’s knock astonished Bar; but, as he immediately suspected that + somebody had come to tell him that somebody else was robbing him, or + otherwise trying to get the better of him, he came down promptly and + softly. He had been clearing his head with a lotion of cold water, as a + good preparative to providing hot water for the heads of the jury, and had + been reading with the neck of his shirt thrown wide open that he might the + more freely choke the opposite witnesses. In consequence, he came down, + looking rather wild. Seeing Physician, the least expected of men, he + looked wilder and said, ‘What’s the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You asked me once what Merdle’s complaint was.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Extraordinary answer! I know I did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I told you I had not found out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. I know you did.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have found it out.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My God!’ said Bar, starting back, and clapping his hand upon the other’s + breast. ‘And so have I! I see it in your face.’ + </p> + <p> + They went into the nearest room, where Physician gave him the letter to + read. He read it through half-a-dozen times. There was not much in it as + to quantity; but it made a great demand on his close and continuous + attention. He could not sufficiently give utterance to his regret that he + had not himself found a clue to this. The smallest clue, he said, would + have made him master of the case, and what a case it would have been to + have got to the bottom of! + </p> + <p> + Physician had engaged to break the intelligence in Harley Street. Bar + could not at once return to his inveiglements of the most enlightened and + remarkable jury he had ever seen in that box, with whom, he could tell his + learned friend, no shallow sophistry would go down, and no unhappily + abused professional tact and skill prevail (this was the way he meant to + begin with them); so he said he would go too, and would loiter to and fro + near the house while his friend was inside. They walked there, the better + to recover self-possession in the air; and the wings of day were + fluttering the night when Physician knocked at the door. + </p> + <p> + A footman of rainbow hues, in the public eye, was sitting up for his + master—that is to say, was fast asleep in the kitchen over a couple + of candles and a newspaper, demonstrating the great accumulation of + mathematical odds against the probabilities of a house being set on fire + by accident When this serving man was roused, Physician had still to await + the rousing of the Chief Butler. At last that noble creature came into the + dining-room in a flannel gown and list shoes; but with his cravat on, and + a Chief Butler all over. It was morning now. Physician had opened the + shutters of one window while waiting, that he might see the light. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Merdle’s maid must be called, and told to get Mrs Merdle up, and + prepare her as gently as she can to see me. I have dreadful news to break + to her.’ + </p> + <p> + Thus Physician to the Chief Butler. The latter, who had a candle in his + hand, called his man to take it away. Then he approached the window with + dignity; looking on at Physician’s news exactly as he had looked on at the + dinners in that very room. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Merdle is dead.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should wish,’ said the Chief Butler, ‘to give a month’s notice.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Merdle has destroyed himself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said the Chief Butler, ‘that is very unpleasant to the feelings of + one in my position, as calculated to awaken prejudice; and I should wish + to leave immediately.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you are not shocked, are you not surprised, man?’ demanded the + Physician, warmly. + </p> + <p> + The Chief Butler, erect and calm, replied in these memorable words. ‘Sir, + Mr Merdle never was the gentleman, and no ungentlemanly act on Mr Merdle’s + part would surprise me. Is there anybody else I can send to you, or any + other directions I can give before I leave, respecting what you would wish + to be done?’ + </p> + <p> + When Physician, after discharging himself of his trust up-stairs, rejoined + Bar in the street, he said no more of his interview with Mrs Merdle than + that he had not yet told her all, but that what he had told her she had + borne pretty well. Bar had devoted his leisure in the street to the + construction of a most ingenious man-trap for catching the whole of his + jury at a blow; having got that matter settled in his mind, it was lucid + on the late catastrophe, and they walked home slowly, discussing it in + every bearing. Before parting at the Physician’s door, they both looked up + at the sunny morning sky, into which the smoke of a few early fires and + the breath and voices of a few early stirrers were peacefully rising, and + then looked round upon the immense city, and said, if all those hundreds + and thousands of beggared people who were yet asleep could only know, as + they two spoke, the ruin that impended over them, what a fearful cry + against one miserable soul would go up to Heaven! + </p> + <p> + The report that the great man was dead, got about with astonishing + rapidity. At first, he was dead of all the diseases that ever were known, + and of several bran-new maladies invented with the speed of Light to meet + the demand of the occasion. He had concealed a dropsy from infancy, he had + inherited a large estate of water on the chest from his grandfather, he + had had an operation performed upon him every morning of his life for + eighteen years, he had been subject to the explosion of important veins in + his body after the manner of fireworks, he had had something the matter + with his lungs, he had had something the matter with his heart, he had had + something the matter with his brain. Five hundred people who sat down to + breakfast entirely uninformed on the whole subject, believed before they + had done breakfast, that they privately and personally knew Physician to + have said to Mr Merdle, ‘You must expect to go out, some day, like the + snuff of a candle;’ and that they knew Mr Merdle to have said to + Physician, ‘A man can die but once.’ By about eleven o’clock in the + forenoon, something the matter with the brain, became the favourite theory + against the field; and by twelve the something had been distinctly + ascertained to be ‘Pressure.’ + </p> + <p> + Pressure was so entirely satisfactory to the public mind, and seemed to + make everybody so comfortable, that it might have lasted all day but for + Bar’s having taken the real state of the case into Court at half-past + nine. This led to its beginning to be currently whispered all over London + by about one, that Mr Merdle had killed himself. Pressure, however, so far + from being overthrown by the discovery, became a greater favourite than + ever. There was a general moralising upon Pressure, in every street. All + the people who had tried to make money and had not been able to do it, + said, There you were! You no sooner began to devote yourself to the + pursuit of wealth than you got Pressure. The idle people improved the + occasion in a similar manner. See, said they, what you brought yourself to + by work, work, work! You persisted in working, you overdid it. Pressure + came on, and you were done for! This consideration was very potent in many + quarters, but nowhere more so than among the young clerks and partners who + had never been in the slightest danger of overdoing it. These, one and + all, declared, quite piously, that they hoped they would never forget the + warning as long as they lived, and that their conduct might be so + regulated as to keep off Pressure, and preserve them, a comfort to their + friends, for many years. + </p> + <p> + But, at about the time of High ‘Change, Pressure began to wane, and + appalling whispers to circulate, east, west, north, and south. At first + they were faint, and went no further than a doubt whether Mr Merdle’s + wealth would be found to be as vast as had been supposed; whether there + might not be a temporary difficulty in ‘realising’ it; whether there might + not even be a temporary suspension (say a month or so), on the part of the + wonderful Bank. As the whispers became louder, which they did from that + time every minute, they became more threatening. He had sprung from + nothing, by no natural growth or process that any one could account for; + he had been, after all, a low, ignorant fellow; he had been a down-looking + man, and no one had ever been able to catch his eye; he had been taken up + by all sorts of people in quite an unaccountable manner; he had never had + any money of his own, his ventures had been utterly reckless, and his + expenditure had been most enormous. In steady progression, as the day + declined, the talk rose in sound and purpose. He had left a letter at the + Baths addressed to his physician, and his physician had got the letter, + and the letter would be produced at the Inquest on the morrow, and it + would fall like a thunderbolt upon the multitude he had deluded. Numbers + of men in every profession and trade would be blighted by his insolvency; + old people who had been in easy circumstances all their lives would have + no place of repentance for their trust in him but the workhouse; legions + of women and children would have their whole future desolated by the hand + of this mighty scoundrel. Every partaker of his magnificent feasts would + be seen to have been a sharer in the plunder of innumerable homes; every + servile worshipper of riches who had helped to set him on his pedestal, + would have done better to worship the Devil point-blank. So, the talk, + lashed louder and higher by confirmation on confirmation, and by edition + after edition of the evening papers, swelled into such a roar when night + came, as might have brought one to believe that a solitary watcher on the + gallery above the Dome of St Paul’s would have perceived the night air to + be laden with a heavy muttering of the name of Merdle, coupled with every + form of execration. + </p> + <p> + For by that time it was known that the late Mr Merdle’s complaint had been + simply Forgery and Robbery. He, the uncouth object of such wide-spread + adulation, the sitter at great men’s feasts, the roc’s egg of great + ladies’ assemblies, the subduer of exclusiveness, the leveller of pride, + the patron of patrons, the bargain-driver with a Minister for Lordships of + the Circumlocution Office, the recipient of more acknowledgment within + some ten or fifteen years, at most, than had been bestowed in England upon + all peaceful public benefactors, and upon all the leaders of all the Arts + and Sciences, with all their works to testify for them, during two + centuries at least—he, the shining wonder, the new constellation to + be followed by the wise men bringing gifts, until it stopped over a + certain carrion at the bottom of a bath and disappeared—was simply + the greatest Forger and the greatest Thief that ever cheated the gallows. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0062"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 26. Reaping the Whirlwind + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ith a precursory sound of hurried breath and hurried feet, Mr Pancks + rushed into Arthur Clennam’s Counting-house. The Inquest was over, the + letter was public, the Bank was broken, the other model structures of + straw had taken fire and were turned to smoke. The admired piratical ship + had blown up, in the midst of a vast fleet of ships of all rates, and + boats of all sizes; and on the deep was nothing but ruin; nothing but + burning hulls, bursting magazines, great guns self-exploded tearing + friends and neighbours to pieces, drowning men clinging to unseaworthy + spars and going down every minute, spent swimmers, floating dead, and + sharks. + </p> + <p> + The usual diligence and order of the Counting-house at the Works were + overthrown. Unopened letters and unsorted papers lay strewn about the + desk. In the midst of these tokens of prostrated energy and dismissed + hope, the master of the Counting-house stood idle in his usual place, with + his arms crossed on the desk, and his head bowed down upon them. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks rushed in and saw him, and stood still. In another minute, Mr + Pancks’s arms were on the desk, and Mr Pancks’s head was bowed down upon + them; and for some time they remained in these attitudes, idle and silent, + with the width of the little room between them. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks was the first to lift up his head and speak. + </p> + <p> + ‘I persuaded you to it, Mr Clennam. I know it. Say what you will. You + can’t say more to me than I say to myself. You can’t say more than I + deserve.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Pancks, Pancks!’ returned Clennam, ‘don’t speak of deserving. What do + I myself deserve!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Better luck,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘I,’ pursued Clennam, without attending to him, ‘who have ruined my + partner! Pancks, Pancks, I have ruined Doyce! The honest, self-helpful, + indefatigable old man who has worked his way all through his life; the man + who has contended against so much disappointment, and who has brought out + of it such a good and hopeful nature; the man I have felt so much for, and + meant to be so true and useful to; I have ruined him—brought him to + shame and disgrace—ruined him, ruined him!’ + </p> + <p> + The agony into which the reflection wrought his mind was so distressing to + see, that Mr Pancks took hold of himself by the hair of his head, and tore + it in desperation at the spectacle. + </p> + <p> + ‘Reproach me!’ cried Pancks. ‘Reproach me, sir, or I’ll do myself an + injury. Say,—You fool, you villain. Say,—Ass, how could you do + it; Beast, what did you mean by it! Catch hold of me somewhere. Say + something abusive to me!’ All the time, Mr Pancks was tearing at his tough + hair in a most pitiless and cruel manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘If you had never yielded to this fatal mania, Pancks,’ said Clennam, more + in commiseration than retaliation, ‘it would have been how much better for + you, and how much better for me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At me again, sir!’ cried Pancks, grinding his teeth in remorse. ‘At me + again!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you had never gone into those accursed calculations, and brought out + your results with such abominable clearness,’ groaned Clennam, ‘it would + have been how much better for you, Pancks, and how much better for me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘At me again, sir!’ exclaimed Pancks, loosening his hold of his hair; ‘at + me again, and again!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam, however, finding him already beginning to be pacified, had said + all he wanted to say, and more. He wrung his hand, only adding, ‘Blind + leaders of the blind, Pancks! Blind leaders of the blind! But Doyce, + Doyce, Doyce; my injured partner!’ That brought his head down on the desk + once more. + </p> + <p> + Their former attitudes and their former silence were once more first + encroached upon by Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not been to bed, sir, since it began to get about. Been high and low, on + the chance of finding some hope of saving any cinders from the fire. All + in vain. All gone. All vanished.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know it,’ returned Clennam, ‘too well.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks filled up a pause with a groan that came out of the very depths + of his soul. + </p> + <p> + ‘Only yesterday, Pancks,’ said Arthur; ‘only yesterday, Monday, I had the + fixed intention of selling, realising, and making an end of it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can’t say as much for myself, sir,’ returned Pancks. ‘Though it’s + wonderful how many people I’ve heard of, who were going to realise + yesterday, of all days in the three hundred and sixty-five, if it hadn’t + been too late!’ + </p> + <p> + His steam-like breathings, usually droll in their effect, were more tragic + than so many groans: while from head to foot, he was in that begrimed, + besmeared, neglected state, that he might have been an authentic portrait + of Misfortune which could scarcely be discerned through its want of + cleaning. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, had you laid out—everything?’ He got over the break + before the last word, and also brought out the last word itself with great + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + ‘Everything.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks took hold of his tough hair again, and gave it such a wrench + that he pulled out several prongs of it. After looking at these with an + eye of wild hatred, he put them in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + ‘My course,’ said Clennam, brushing away some tears that had been silently + dropping down his face, ‘must be taken at once. What wretched amends I can + make must be made. I must clear my unfortunate partner’s reputation. I + must retain nothing for myself. I must resign to our creditors the power + of management I have so much abused, and I must work out as much of my + fault—or crime—as is susceptible of being worked out in the + rest of my days.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it impossible, sir, to tide over the present?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Out of the question. Nothing can be tided over now, Pancks. The sooner + the business can pass out of my hands, the better for it. There are + engagements to be met, this week, which would bring the catastrophe before + many days were over, even if I would postpone it for a single day by going + on for that space, secretly knowing what I know. All last night I thought + of what I would do; what remains is to do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not entirely of yourself?’ said Pancks, whose face was as damp as if his + steam were turning into water as fast as he dismally blew it off. ‘Have + some legal help.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps I had better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have Rugg.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There is not much to do. He will do it as well as another.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I fetch Rugg, Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you could spare the time, I should be much obliged to you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks put on his hat that moment, and steamed away to Pentonville. + While he was gone Arthur never raised his head from the desk, but remained + in that one position. + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks brought his friend and professional adviser, Mr Rugg, back with + him. Mr Rugg had had such ample experience, on the road, of Mr Pancks’s + being at that present in an irrational state of mind, that he opened his + professional mediation by requesting that gentleman to take himself out of + the way. Mr Pancks, crushed and submissive, obeyed. + </p> + <p> + ‘He is not unlike what my daughter was, sir, when we began the Breach of + Promise action of Rugg and Bawkins, in which she was Plaintiff,’ said Mr + Rugg. ‘He takes too strong and direct an interest in the case. His + feelings are worked upon. There is no getting on, in our profession, with + feelings worked upon, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + As he pulled off his gloves and put them in his hat, he saw, in a side + glance or two, that a great change had come over his client. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry to perceive, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, ‘that you have been allowing + your own feelings to be worked upon. Now, pray don’t, pray don’t. These + losses are much to be deplored, sir, but we must look ‘em in the face.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If the money I have sacrificed had been all my own, Mr Rugg,’ sighed Mr + Clennam, ‘I should have cared far less.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, sir?’ said Mr Rugg, rubbing his hands with a cheerful air. ‘You + surprise me. That’s singular, sir. I have generally found, in my + experience, that it’s their own money people are most particular about. I + have seen people get rid of a good deal of other people’s money, and bear + it very well: very well indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + With these comforting remarks, Mr Rugg seated himself on an office-stool + at the desk and proceeded to business. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Mr Clennam, by your leave, let us go into the matter. Let us see the + state of the case. The question is simple. The question is the usual + plain, straightforward, common-sense question. What can we do for ourself? + What can we do for ourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This is not the question with me, Mr Rugg,’ said Arthur. ‘You mistake it + in the beginning. It is, what can I do for my partner, how can I best make + reparation to him?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am afraid, sir, do you know,’ argued Mr Rugg persuasively, ‘that you + are still allowing your feeling to be worked upon. I <i>don’t</i> like the + term “reparation,” sir, except as a lever in the hands of counsel. Will + you excuse my saying that I feel it my duty to offer you the caution, that + you really must not allow your feelings to be worked upon?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Rugg,’ said Clennam, nerving himself to go through with what he had + resolved upon, and surprising that gentleman by appearing, in his + despondency, to have a settled determination of purpose; ‘you give me the + impression that you will not be much disposed to adopt the course I have + made up my mind to take. If your disapproval of it should render you + unwilling to discharge such business as it necessitates, I am sorry for + it, and must seek other aid. But I will represent to you at once, that to + argue against it with me is useless.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good, sir,’ answered Mr Rugg, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Good, sir. Since + the business is to be done by some hands, let it be done by mine. Such was + my principle in the case of Rugg and Bawkins. Such is my principle in most + cases.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam then proceeded to state to Mr Rugg his fixed resolution. He told + Mr Rugg that his partner was a man of great simplicity and integrity, and + that in all he meant to do, he was guided above all things by a knowledge + of his partner’s character, and a respect for his feelings. He explained + that his partner was then absent on an enterprise of importance, and that + it particularly behoved himself publicly to accept the blame of what he + had rashly done, and publicly to exonerate his partner from all + participation in the responsibility of it, lest the successful conduct of + that enterprise should be endangered by the slightest suspicion wrongly + attaching to his partner’s honour and credit in another country. He told + Mr Rugg that to clear his partner morally, to the fullest extent, and + publicly and unreservedly to declare that he, Arthur Clennam, of that + Firm, had of his own sole act, and even expressly against his partner’s + caution, embarked its resources in the swindles that had lately perished, + was the only real atonement within his power; was a better atonement to + the particular man than it would be to many men; and was therefore the + atonement he had first to make. With this view, his intention was to print + a declaration to the foregoing effect, which he had already drawn up; and, + besides circulating it among all who had dealings with the House, to + advertise it in the public papers. Concurrently with this measure (the + description of which cost Mr Rugg innumerable wry faces and great + uneasiness in his limbs), he would address a letter to all the creditors, + exonerating his partner in a solemn manner, informing them of the stoppage + of the House until their pleasure could be known and his partner + communicated with, and humbly submitting himself to their direction. If, + through their consideration for his partner’s innocence, the affairs could + ever be got into such train as that the business could be profitably + resumed, and its present downfall overcome, then his own share in it + should revert to his partner, as the only reparation he could make to him + in money value for the distress and loss he had unhappily brought upon + him, and he himself, at as small a salary as he could live upon, would ask + to be allowed to serve the business as a faithful clerk. + </p> + <p> + Though Mr Rugg saw plainly there was no preventing this from being done, + still the wryness of his face and the uneasiness of his limbs so sorely + required the propitiation of a Protest, that he made one. ‘I offer no + objection, sir,’ said he, ‘I argue no point with you. I will carry out + your views, sir; but, under protest.’ Mr Rugg then stated, not without + prolixity, the heads of his protest. These were, in effect, because the + whole town, or he might say the whole country, was in the first madness of + the late discovery, and the resentment against the victims would be very + strong: those who had not been deluded being certain to wax exceedingly + wroth with them for not having been as wise as they were: and those who + had been deluded being certain to find excuses and reasons for themselves, + of which they were equally certain to see that other sufferers were wholly + devoid: not to mention the great probability of every individual sufferer + persuading himself, to his violent indignation, that but for the example + of all the other sufferers he never would have put himself in the way of + suffering. Because such a declaration as Clennam’s, made at such a time, + would certainly draw down upon him a storm of animosity, rendering it + impossible to calculate on forbearance in the creditors, or on unanimity + among them; and exposing him a solitary target to a straggling cross-fire, + which might bring him down from half-a-dozen quarters at once. + </p> + <p> + To all this Clennam merely replied that, granting the whole protest, + nothing in it lessened the force, or could lessen the force, of the + voluntary and public exoneration of his partner. He therefore, once and + for all, requested Mr Rugg’s immediate aid in getting the business + despatched. Upon that, Mr Rugg fell to work; and Arthur, retaining no + property to himself but his clothes and books, and a little loose money, + placed his small private banker’s-account with the papers of the business. + </p> + <p> + The disclosure was made, and the storm raged fearfully. Thousands of + people were wildly staring about for somebody alive to heap reproaches on; + and this notable case, courting publicity, set the living somebody so much + wanted, on a scaffold. When people who had nothing to do with the case + were so sensible of its flagrancy, people who lost money by it could + scarcely be expected to deal mildly with it. Letters of reproach and + invective showered in from the creditors; and Mr Rugg, who sat upon the + high stool every day and read them all, informed his client within a week + that he feared there were writs out. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must take the consequences of what I have done,’ said Clennam. ‘The + writs will find me here.’ + </p> + <p> + On the very next morning, as he was turning in Bleeding Heart Yard by Mrs + Plornish’s corner, Mrs Plornish stood at the door waiting for him, and + mysteriously besought him to step into Happy Cottage. There he found Mr + Rugg. + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought I’d wait for you here. I wouldn’t go on to the Counting-house + this morning if I was you, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not, Mr Rugg?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There are as many as five out, to my knowledge.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It cannot be too soon over,’ said Clennam. ‘Let them take me at once.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, but,’ said Mr Rugg, getting between him and the door, ‘hear reason, + hear reason. They’ll take you soon enough, Mr Clennam, I don’t doubt; but, + hear reason. It almost always happens, in these cases, that some + insignificant matter pushes itself in front and makes much of itself. Now, + I find there’s a little one out—a mere Palace Court jurisdiction—and + I have reason to believe that a caption may be made upon that. I wouldn’t + be taken upon that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ asked Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘I’d be taken on a full-grown one, sir,’ said Mr Rugg. ‘It’s as well to + keep up appearances. As your professional adviser, I should prefer your + being taken on a writ from one of the Superior Courts, if you have no + objection to do me that favour. It looks better.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Rugg,’ said Arthur, in his dejection, ‘my only wish is, that it should + be over. I will go on, and take my chance.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Another word of reason, sir!’ cried Mr Rugg. ‘Now, this <i>is</i> reason. + The other may be taste; but this is reason. If you should be taken on a + little one, sir, you would go to the Marshalsea. Now, you know what the + Marshalsea is. Very close. Excessively confined. Whereas in the King’s + Bench—’ Mr Rugg waved his right hand freely, as expressing abundance + of space. + </p> + <p> + ‘I would rather,’ said Clennam, ‘be taken to the Marshalsea than to any + other prison.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you say so indeed, sir?’ returned Mr Rugg. ‘Then this is taste, too, + and we may be walking.’ + </p> + <p> + He was a little offended at first, but he soon overlooked it. They walked + through the Yard to the other end. The Bleeding Hearts were more + interested in Arthur since his reverses than formerly; now regarding him + as one who was true to the place and had taken up his freedom. Many of + them came out to look after him, and to observe to one another, with great + unctuousness, that he was ‘pulled down by it.’ Mrs Plornish and her father + stood at the top of the steps at their own end, much depressed and shaking + their heads. + </p> + <p> + There was nobody visibly in waiting when Arthur and Mr Rugg arrived at the + Counting-house. But an elderly member of the Jewish persuasion, preserved + in rum, followed them close, and looked in at the glass before Mr Rugg had + opened one of the day’s letters. ‘Oh!’ said Mr Rugg, looking up. ‘How do + you do? Step in—Mr Clennam, I think this is the gentleman I was + mentioning.’ + </p> + <p> + This gentleman explained the object of his visit to be ‘a tyfling madder + ob bithznithz,’ and executed his legal function. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I accompany you, Mr Clennam?’ asked Mr Rugg politely, rubbing his + hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘I would rather go alone, thank you. Be so good as send me my clothes.’ Mr + Rugg in a light airy way replied in the affirmative, and shook hands with + him. He and his attendant then went down-stairs, got into the first + conveyance they found, and drove to the old gates. + </p> + <p> + ‘Where I little thought, Heaven forgive me,’ said Clennam to himself, + ‘that I should ever enter thus!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Chivery was on the Lock, and Young John was in the Lodge: either newly + released from it, or waiting to take his own spell of duty. Both were more + astonished on seeing who the prisoner was, than one might have thought + turnkeys would have been. The elder Mr Chivery shook hands with him in a + shame-faced kind of way, and said, ‘I don’t call to mind, sir, as I was + ever less glad to see you.’ The younger Mr Chivery, more distant, did not + shake hands with him at all; he stood looking at him in a state of + indecision so observable that it even came within the observation of + Clennam with his heavy eyes and heavy heart. Presently afterwards, Young + John disappeared into the jail. + </p> + <p> + As Clennam knew enough of the place to know that he was required to remain + in the Lodge a certain time, he took a seat in a corner, and feigned to be + occupied with the perusal of letters from his pocket. They did not so + engross his attention, but that he saw, with gratitude, how the elder Mr + Chivery kept the Lodge clear of prisoners; how he signed to some, with his + keys, not to come in, how he nudged others with his elbows to go out, and + how he made his misery as easy to him as he could. + </p> + <p> + Arthur was sitting with his eyes fixed on the floor, recalling the past, + brooding over the present, and not attending to either, when he felt + himself touched upon the shoulder. It was by Young John; and he said, ‘You + can come now.’ + </p> + <p> + He got up and followed Young John. When they had gone a step or two within + the inner iron-gate, Young John turned and said to him: + </p> + <p> + ‘You want a room. I have got you one.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thank you heartily.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John turned again, and took him in at the old doorway, up the old + staircase, into the old room. Arthur stretched out his hand. Young John + looked at it, looked at him—sternly—swelled, choked, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know as I can. No, I find I can’t. But I thought you’d like the + room, and here it is for you.’ + </p> + <p> + Surprise at this inconsistent behaviour yielded when he was gone (he went + away directly) to the feelings which the empty room awakened in Clennam’s + wounded breast, and to the crowding associations with the one good and + gentle creature who had sanctified it. Her absence in his altered fortunes + made it, and him in it, so very desolate and so much in need of such a + face of love and truth, that he turned against the wall to weep, sobbing + out, as his heart relieved itself, ‘O my Little Dorrit!’ + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0063"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 27. The Pupil of the Marshalsea + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he day was sunny, and the Marshalsea, with the hot noon striking upon it, + was unwontedly quiet. Arthur Clennam dropped into a solitary arm-chair, + itself as faded as any debtor in the jail, and yielded himself to his + thoughts. + </p> + <p> + In the unnatural peace of having gone through the dreaded arrest, and got + there,—the first change of feeling which the prison most commonly + induced, and from which dangerous resting-place so many men had slipped + down to the depths of degradation and disgrace by so many ways,—he + could think of some passages in his life, almost as if he were removed + from them into another state of existence. Taking into account where he + was, the interest that had first brought him there when he had been free + to keep away, and the gentle presence that was equally inseparable from + the walls and bars about him and from the impalpable remembrances of his + later life which no walls or bars could imprison, it was not remarkable + that everything his memory turned upon should bring him round again to + Little Dorrit. Yet it was remarkable to him; not because of the fact + itself, but because of the reminder it brought with it, how much the dear + little creature had influenced his better resolutions. + </p> + <p> + None of us clearly know to whom or to what we are indebted in this wise, + until some marked stop in the whirling wheel of life brings the right + perception with it. It comes with sickness, it comes with sorrow, it comes + with the loss of the dearly loved, it is one of the most frequent uses of + adversity. It came to Clennam in his adversity, strongly and tenderly. + ‘When I first gathered myself together,’ he thought, ‘and set something + like purpose before my jaded eyes, whom had I before me, toiling on, for a + good object’s sake, without encouragement, without notice, against ignoble + obstacles that would have turned an army of received heroes and heroines? + One weak girl! When I tried to conquer my misplaced love, and to be + generous to the man who was more fortunate than I, though he should never + know it or repay me with a gracious word, in whom had I watched patience, + self-denial, self-subdual, charitable construction, the noblest generosity + of the affections? In the same poor girl! If I, a man, with a man’s + advantages and means and energies, had slighted the whisper in my heart, + that if my father had erred, it was my first duty to conceal the fault and + to repair it, what youthful figure with tender feet going almost bare on + the damp ground, with spare hands ever working, with its slight shape but + half protected from the sharp weather, would have stood before me to put + me to shame? Little Dorrit’s.’ So always as he sat alone in the faded + chair, thinking. Always, Little Dorrit. Until it seemed to him as if he + met the reward of having wandered away from her, and suffered anything to + pass between him and his remembrance of her virtues. + </p> + <p> + His door was opened, and the head of the elder Chivery was put in a very + little way, without being turned towards him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am off the Lock, Mr Clennam, and going out. Can I do anything for you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Many thanks. Nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You’ll excuse me opening the door,’ said Mr Chivery; ‘but I couldn’t make + you hear.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Did you knock?’ ‘Half-a-dozen times.’ + </p> + <p> + Rousing himself, Clennam observed that the prison had awakened from its + noontide doze, that the inmates were loitering about the shady yard, and + that it was late in the afternoon. He had been thinking for hours. + </p> + <p> + ‘Your things is come,’ said Mr Chivery, ‘and my son is going to carry ‘em + up. I should have sent ‘em up but for his wishing to carry ‘em himself. + Indeed he would have ‘em himself, and so I couldn’t send ‘em up. Mr + Clennam, could I say a word to you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pray come in,’ said Arthur; for Mr Chivery’s head was still put in at the + door a very little way, and Mr Chivery had but one ear upon him, instead + of both eyes. This was native delicacy in Mr Chivery—true + politeness; though his exterior had very much of a turnkey about it, and + not the least of a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Mr Chivery, without advancing; ‘it’s no odds me + coming in. Mr Clennam, don’t you take no notice of my son (if you’ll be so + good) in case you find him cut up anyways difficult. My son has a ‘art, + and my son’s ‘art is in the right place. Me and his mother knows where to + find it, and we find it sitiwated correct.’ + </p> + <p> + With this mysterious speech, Mr Chivery took his ear away and shut the + door. He might have been gone ten minutes, when his son succeeded him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s your portmanteau,’ he said to Arthur, putting it carefully down. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s very kind of you. I am ashamed that you should have the trouble.’ + </p> + <p> + He was gone before it came to that; but soon returned, saying exactly as + before, ‘Here’s your black box:’ which he also put down with care. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am very sensible of this attention. I hope we may shake hands now, Mr + John.’ + </p> + <p> + Young John, however, drew back, turning his right wrist in a socket made + of his left thumb and middle-finger and said as he had said at first, ‘I + don’t know as I can. No; I find I can’t!’ He then stood regarding the + prisoner sternly, though with a swelling humour in his eyes that looked + like pity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you angry with me,’ said Clennam, ‘and yet so ready to do me + these kind services? There must be some mistake between us. If I have done + anything to occasion it I am sorry.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No mistake, sir,’ returned John, turning the wrist backwards and forwards + in the socket, for which it was rather tight. ‘No mistake, sir, in the + feelings with which my eyes behold you at the present moment! If I was at + all fairly equal to your weight, Mr Clennam—which I am not; and if + you weren’t under a cloud—which you are; and if it wasn’t against + all rules of the Marshalsea—which it is; those feelings are such, + that they would stimulate me, more to having it out with you in a Round on + the present spot than to anything else I could name.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at him for a moment in some wonder, and some little anger. + ‘Well, well!’ he said. ‘A mistake, a mistake!’ Turning away, he sat down + with a heavy sigh in the faded chair again. + </p> + <p> + Young John followed him with his eyes, and, after a short pause, cried + out, ‘I beg your pardon!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Freely granted,’ said Clennam, waving his hand without raising his sunken + head. ‘Say no more. I am not worth it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘This furniture, sir,’ said Young John in a voice of mild and soft + explanation, ‘belongs to me. I am in the habit of letting it out to + parties without furniture, that have the room. It an’t much, but it’s at + your service. Free, I mean. I could not think of letting you have it on + any other terms. You’re welcome to it for nothing.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur raised his head again to thank him, and to say he could not accept + the favour. John was still turning his wrist, and still contending with + himself in his former divided manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter between us?’ said Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘I decline to name it, sir,’ returned Young John, suddenly turning loud + and sharp. ‘Nothing’s the matter.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at him again, in vain, for an explanation of his behaviour. + After a while, Arthur turned away his head again. Young John said, + presently afterwards, with the utmost mildness: + </p> + <p> + ‘The little round table, sir, that’s nigh your elbow, was—you know + whose—I needn’t mention him—he died a great gentleman. I + bought it of an individual that he gave it to, and that lived here after + him. But the individual wasn’t any ways equal to him. Most individuals + would find it hard to come up to his level.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur drew the little table nearer, rested his arm upon it, and kept it + there. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps you may not be aware, sir,’ said Young John, ‘that I intruded + upon him when he was over here in London. On the whole he was of opinion + that it <i>was</i> an intrusion, though he was so good as to ask me to sit + down and to inquire after father and all other old friends. Leastways + humblest acquaintances. He looked, to me, a good deal changed, and I said + so when I came back. I asked him if Miss Amy was well—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And she was?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I should have thought you would have known without putting the question + to such as me,’ returned Young John, after appearing to take a large + invisible pill. ‘Since you do put me the question, I am sorry I can’t + answer it. But the truth is, he looked upon the inquiry as a liberty, and + said, “What was that to me?” It was then I became quite aware I was + intruding: of which I had been fearful before. However, he spoke very + handsome afterwards; very handsome.’ + </p> + <p> + They were both silent for several minutes: except that Young John + remarked, at about the middle of the pause, ‘He both spoke and acted very + handsome.’ + </p> + <p> + It was again Young John who broke the silence by inquiring: + </p> + <p> + ‘If it’s not a liberty, how long may it be your intentions, sir, to go + without eating and drinking?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have not felt the want of anything yet,’ returned Clennam. ‘I have no + appetite just now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The more reason why you should take some support, sir,’ urged Young John. + ‘If you find yourself going on sitting here for hours and hours partaking + of no refreshment because you have no appetite, why then you should and + must partake of refreshment without an appetite. I’m going to have tea in + my own apartment. If it’s not a liberty, please to come and take a cup. Or + I can bring a tray here in two minutes.’ + </p> + <p> + Feeling that Young John would impose that trouble on himself if he + refused, and also feeling anxious to show that he bore in mind both the + elder Mr Chivery’s entreaty, and the younger Mr Chivery’s apology, Arthur + rose and expressed his willingness to take a cup of tea in Mr John’s + apartment. Young John locked his door for him as they went out, slided the + key into his pocket with great dexterity, and led the way to his own + residence. + </p> + <p> + It was at the top of the house nearest to the gateway. It was the room to + which Clennam had hurried on the day when the enriched family had left the + prison for ever, and where he had lifted her insensible from the floor. He + foresaw where they were going as soon as their feet touched the staircase. + The room was so far changed that it was papered now, and had been + repainted, and was far more comfortably furnished; but he could recall it + just as he had seen it in that single glance, when he raised her from the + ground and carried her down to the carriage. + </p> + <p> + Young John looked hard at him, biting his fingers. + </p> + <p> + ‘I see you recollect the room, Mr Clennam?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I recollect it well, Heaven bless her!’ + </p> + <p> + Oblivious of the tea, Young John continued to bite his fingers and to look + at his visitor, as long as his visitor continued to glance about the room. + Finally, he made a start at the teapot, gustily rattled a quantity of tea + into it from a canister, and set off for the common kitchen to fill it + with hot water. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0644m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0644m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0644.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + The room was so eloquent to Clennam in the changed circumstances of his + return to the miserable Marshalsea; it spoke to him so mournfully of her, + and of his loss of her; that it would have gone hard with him to resist + it, even though he had not been alone. Alone, he did not try. He had his + hand on the insensible wall as tenderly as if it had been herself that he + touched, and pronounced her name in a low voice. He stood at the window, + looking over the prison-parapet with its grim spiked border, and breathed + a benediction through the summer haze towards the distant land where she + was rich and prosperous. + </p> + <p> + Young John was some time absent, and, when he came back, showed that he + had been outside by bringing with him fresh butter in a cabbage leaf, some + thin slices of boiled ham in another cabbage leaf, and a little basket of + water-cresses and salad herbs. When these were arranged upon the table to + his satisfaction, they sat down to tea. + </p> + <p> + Clennam tried to do honour to the meal, but unavailingly. The ham sickened + him, the bread seemed to turn to sand in his mouth. He could force nothing + upon himself but a cup of tea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Try a little something green,’ said Young John, handing him the basket. + </p> + <p> + He took a sprig or so of water-cress, and tried again; but the bread + turned to a heavier sand than before, and the ham (though it was good + enough of itself) seemed to blow a faint simoom of ham through the whole + Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + ‘Try a little more something green, sir,’ said Young John; and again + handed the basket. + </p> + <p> + It was so like handing green meat into the cage of a dull imprisoned bird, + and John had so evidently brought the little basket as a handful of fresh + relief from the stale hot paving-stones and bricks of the jail, that + Clennam said, with a smile, ‘It was very kind of you to think of putting + this between the wires; but I cannot even get this down to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + As if the difficulty were contagious, Young John soon pushed away his own + plate, and fell to folding the cabbage-leaf that had contained the ham. + When he had folded it into a number of layers, one over another, so that + it was small in the palm of his hand, he began to flatten it between both + his hands, and to eye Clennam attentively. + </p> + <p> + ‘I wonder,’ he at length said, compressing his green packet with some + force, ‘that if it’s not worth your while to take care of yourself for + your own sake, it’s not worth doing for some one else’s.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Truly,’ returned Arthur, with a sigh and a smile, ‘I don’t know for + whose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam,’ said John, warmly, ‘I am surprised that a gentleman who is + capable of the straightforwardness that you are capable of, should be + capable of the mean action of making me such an answer. Mr Clennam, I am + surprised that a gentleman who is capable of having a heart of his own, + should be capable of the heartlessness of treating mine in that way. I am + astonished at it, sir. Really and truly I am astonished!’ + </p> + <p> + Having got upon his feet to emphasise his concluding words, Young John sat + down again, and fell to rolling his green packet on his right leg; never + taking his eyes off Clennam, but surveying him with a fixed look of + indignant reproach. + </p> + <p> + ‘I had got over it, sir,’ said John. ‘I had conquered it, knowing that it + <i>must</i> be conquered, and had come to the resolution to think no more + about it. I shouldn’t have given my mind to it again, I hope, if to this + prison you had not been brought, and in an hour unfortunate for me, this + day!’ (In his agitation Young John adopted his mother’s powerful + construction of sentences.) ‘When you first came upon me, sir, in the + Lodge, this day, more as if a Upas tree had been made a capture of than a + private defendant, such mingled streams of feelings broke loose again + within me, that everything was for the first few minutes swept away before + them, and I was going round and round in a vortex. I got out of it. I + struggled, and got out of it. If it was the last word I had to speak, + against that vortex with my utmost powers I strove, and out of it I came. + I argued that if I had been rude, apologies was due, and those apologies + without a question of demeaning, I did make. And now, when I’ve been so + wishful to show that one thought is next to being a holy one with me and + goes before all others—now, after all, you dodge me when I ever so + gently hint at it, and throw me back upon myself. For, do not, sir,’ said + Young John, ‘do not be so base as to deny that dodge you do, and thrown me + back upon myself you have!’ + </p> + <p> + All amazement, Arthur gazed at him like one lost, only saying, ‘What is + it? What do you mean, John?’ But, John, being in that state of mind in + which nothing would seem to be more impossible to a certain class of + people than the giving of an answer, went ahead blindly. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hadn’t,’ John declared, ‘no, I hadn’t, and I never had the + audaciousness to think, I am sure, that all was anything but lost. I + hadn’t, no, why should I say I hadn’t if I ever had, any hope that it was + possible to be so blest, not after the words that passed, not even if + barriers insurmountable had not been raised! But is that a reason why I am + to have no memory, why I am to have no thoughts, why I am to have no + sacred spots, nor anything?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What can you mean?’ cried Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s all very well to trample on it, sir,’ John went on, scouring a very + prairie of wild words, ‘if a person can make up his mind to be guilty of + the action. It’s all very well to trample on it, but it’s there. It may be + that it couldn’t be trampled upon if it wasn’t there. But that doesn’t + make it gentlemanly, that doesn’t make it honourable, that doesn’t justify + throwing a person back upon himself after he has struggled and strived out + of himself like a butterfly. The world may sneer at a turnkey, but he’s a + man—when he isn’t a woman, which among female criminals he’s + expected to be.’ + </p> + <p> + Ridiculous as the incoherence of his talk was, there was yet a + truthfulness in Young John’s simple, sentimental character, and a sense of + being wounded in some very tender respect, expressed in his burning face + and in the agitation of his voice and manner, which Arthur must have been + cruel to disregard. He turned his thoughts back to the starting-point of + this unknown injury; and in the meantime Young John, having rolled his + green packet pretty round, cut it carefully into three pieces, and laid it + on a plate as if it were some particular delicacy. + </p> + <p> + ‘It seems to me just possible,’ said Arthur, when he had retraced the + conversation to the water-cresses and back again, ‘that you have made some + reference to Miss Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is just possible, sir,’ returned John Chivery. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t understand it. I hope I may not be so unlucky as to make you + think I mean to offend you again, for I never have meant to offend you + yet, when I say I don’t understand it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir,’ said Young John, ‘will you have the perfidy to deny that you know + and long have known that I felt towards Miss Dorrit, call it not the + presumption of love, but adoration and sacrifice?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Indeed, John, I will not have any perfidy if I know it; why you should + suspect me of it I am at a loss to think. Did you ever hear from Mrs + Chivery, your mother, that I went to see her once?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir,’ returned John, shortly. ‘Never heard of such a thing.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I did. Can you imagine why?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir,’ returned John, shortly. ‘I can’t imagine why.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will tell you. I was solicitous to promote Miss Dorrit’s happiness; and + if I could have supposed that Miss Dorrit returned your affection—’ + </p> + <p> + Poor John Chivery turned crimson to the tips of his ears. ‘Miss Dorrit + never did, sir. I wish to be honourable and true, so far as in my humble + way I can, and I would scorn to pretend for a moment that she ever did, or + that she ever led me to believe she did; no, nor even that it was ever to + be expected in any cool reason that she would or could. She was far above + me in all respects at all times. As likewise,’ added John, ‘similarly was + her gen-teel family.’ + </p> + <p> + His chivalrous feeling towards all that belonged to her made him so very + respectable, in spite of his small stature and his rather weak legs, and + his very weak hair, and his poetical temperament, that a Goliath might + have sat in his place demanding less consideration at Arthur’s hands. + </p> + <p> + ‘You speak, John,’ he said, with cordial admiration, ‘like a Man.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir,’ returned John, brushing his hand across his eyes, ‘then I + wish you’d do the same.’ + </p> + <p> + He was quick with this unexpected retort, and it again made Arthur regard + him with a wondering expression of face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Leastways,’ said John, stretching his hand across the tea-tray, ‘if too + strong a remark, withdrawn! But, why not, why not? When I say to you, Mr + Clennam, take care of yourself for some one else’s sake, why not be open, + though a turnkey? Why did I get you the room which I knew you’d like best? + Why did I carry up your things? Not that I found ‘em heavy; I don’t + mention ‘em on that accounts; far from it. Why have I cultivated you in + the manner I have done since the morning? On the ground of your own + merits? No. They’re very great, I’ve no doubt at all; but not on the + ground of them. Another’s merits have had their weight, and have had far + more weight with Me. Then why not speak free?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unaffectedly, John,’ said Clennam, ‘you are so good a fellow and I have + so true a respect for your character, that if I have appeared to be less + sensible than I really am of the fact that the kind services you have + rendered me to-day are attributable to my having been trusted by Miss + Dorrit as her friend—I confess it to be a fault, and I ask your + forgiveness.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! why not,’ John repeated with returning scorn, ‘why not speak free!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I declare to you,’ returned Arthur, ‘that I do not understand you. Look + at me. Consider the trouble I have been in. Is it likely that I would + wilfully add to my other self-reproaches, that of being ungrateful or + treacherous to you. I do not understand you.’ + </p> + <p> + John’s incredulous face slowly softened into a face of doubt. He rose, + backed into the garret-window of the room, beckoned Arthur to come there, + and stood looking at him thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam, do you mean to say that you don’t know?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What, John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Lord,’ said Young John, appealing with a gasp to the spikes on the wall. + ‘He says, What!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam looked at the spikes, and looked at John; and looked at the + spikes, and looked at John. + </p> + <p> + ‘He says What! And what is more,’ exclaimed Young John, surveying him in a + doleful maze, ‘he appears to mean it! Do you see this window, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of course I see this window.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘See this room?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, of course I see this room.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That wall opposite, and that yard down below? They have all been + witnesses of it, from day to day, from night to night, from week to week, + from month to month. For how often have I seen Miss Dorrit here when she + has not seen me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Witnesses of what?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Of Miss Dorrit’s love.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘For whom?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You,’ said John. And touched him with the back of his hand upon the + breast, and backed to his chair, and sat down on it with a pale face, + holding the arms, and shaking his head at him. + </p> + <p> + If he had dealt Clennam a heavy blow, instead of laying that light touch + upon him, its effect could not have been to shake him more. He stood + amazed; his eyes looking at John; his lips parted, and seeming now and + then to form the word ‘Me!’ without uttering it; his hands dropped at his + sides; his whole appearance that of a man who has been awakened from + sleep, and stupefied by intelligence beyond his full comprehension. + </p> + <p> + ‘Me!’ he at length said aloud. + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah!’ groaned Young John. ‘You!’ + </p> + <p> + He did what he could to muster a smile, and returned, ‘Your fancy. You are + completely mistaken.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I mistaken, sir!’ said Young John. ‘<i>I</i> completely mistaken on that + subject! No, Mr Clennam, don’t tell me so. On any other, if you like, for + I don’t set up to be a penetrating character, and am well aware of my own + deficiencies. But, <i>I</i> mistaken on a point that has caused me more + smart in my breast than a flight of savages’ arrows could have done! <i>I</i> + mistaken on a point that almost sent me into my grave, as I sometimes + wished it would, if the grave could only have been made compatible with + the tobacco-business and father and mother’s feelings! I mistaken on a + point that, even at the present moment, makes me take out my + pocket-handkerchief like a great girl, as people say: though I am sure I + don’t know why a great girl should be a term of reproach, for every + rightly constituted male mind loves ‘em great and small. Don’t tell me so, + don’t tell me so!’ + </p> + <p> + Still highly respectable at bottom, though absurd enough upon the surface, + Young John took out his pocket-handkerchief with a genuine absence both of + display and concealment, which is only to be seen in a man with a great + deal of good in him, when he takes out his pocket-handkerchief for the + purpose of wiping his eyes. Having dried them, and indulged in the + harmless luxury of a sob and a sniff, he put it up again. + </p> + <p> + The touch was still in its influence so like a blow that Arthur could not + get many words together to close the subject with. He assured John Chivery + when he had returned his handkerchief to his pocket, that he did all + honour to his disinterestedness and to the fidelity of his remembrance of + Miss Dorrit. As to the impression on his mind, of which he had just + relieved it—here John interposed, and said, ‘No impression! + Certainty!’—as to that, they might perhaps speak of it at another + time, but would say no more now. Feeling low-spirited and weary, he would + go back to his room, with John’s leave, and come out no more that night. + John assented, and he crept back in the shadow of the wall to his own + lodging. + </p> + <p> + The feeling of the blow was still so strong upon him that, when the dirty + old woman was gone whom he found sitting on the stairs outside his door, + waiting to make his bed, and who gave him to understand while doing it, + that she had received her instructions from Mr Chivery, ‘not the old ‘un + but the young ‘un,’ he sat down in the faded arm-chair, pressing his head + between his hands, as if he had been stunned. Little Dorrit love him! More + bewildering to him than his misery, far. + </p> + <p> + Consider the improbability. He had been accustomed to call her his child, + and his dear child, and to invite her confidence by dwelling upon the + difference in their respective ages, and to speak of himself as one who + was turning old. Yet she might not have thought him old. Something + reminded him that he had not thought himself so, until the roses had + floated away upon the river. + </p> + <p> + He had her two letters among other papers in his box, and he took them out + and read them. There seemed to be a sound in them like the sound of her + sweet voice. It fell upon his ear with many tones of tenderness, that were + not insusceptible of the new meaning. Now it was that the quiet desolation + of her answer, ‘No, No, No,’ made to him that night in that very room—that + night when he had been shown the dawn of her altered fortune, and when + other words had passed between them which he had been destined to remember + in humiliation and a prisoner, rushed into his mind. + </p> + <p> + Consider the improbability. + </p> + <p> + But it had a preponderating tendency, when considered, to become fainter. + There was another and a curious inquiry of his own heart’s that + concurrently became stronger. In the reluctance he had felt to believe + that she loved any one; in his desire to set that question at rest; in a + half-formed consciousness he had had that there would be a kind of + nobleness in his helping her love for any one, was there no suppressed + something on his own side that he had hushed as it arose? Had he ever + whispered to himself that he must not think of such a thing as her loving + him, that he must not take advantage of her gratitude, that he must keep + his experience in remembrance as a warning and reproof; that he must + regard such youthful hopes as having passed away, as his friend’s dead + daughter had passed away; that he must be steady in saying to himself that + the time had gone by him, and he was too saddened and old? + </p> + <p> + He had kissed her when he raised her from the ground on the day when she + had been so consistently and expressively forgotten. Quite as he might + have kissed her, if she had been conscious? No difference? + </p> + <p> + The darkness found him occupied with these thoughts. The darkness also + found Mr and Mrs Plornish knocking at his door. They brought with them a + basket, filled with choice selections from that stock in trade which met + with such a quick sale and produced such a slow return. Mrs Plornish was + affected to tears. Mr Plornish amiably growled, in his philosophical but + not lucid manner, that there was ups you see, and there was downs. It was + in vain to ask why ups, why downs; there they was, you know. He had heerd + it given for a truth that accordin’ as the world went round, which round + it did rewolve undoubted, even the best of gentlemen must take his turn of + standing with his ed upside down and all his air a flying the wrong way + into what you might call Space. Wery well then. What Mr Plornish said was, + wery well then. That gentleman’s ed would come up-ards when his turn come, + that gentleman’s air would be a pleasure to look upon being all smooth + again, and wery well then! + </p> + <p> + It has been already stated that Mrs Plornish, not being philosophical, + wept. It further happened that Mrs Plornish, not being philosophical, was + intelligible. It may have arisen out of her softened state of mind, out of + her sex’s wit, out of a woman’s quick association of ideas, or out of a + woman’s no association of ideas, but it further happened somehow that Mrs + Plornish’s intelligibility displayed itself upon the very subject of + Arthur’s meditations. + </p> + <p> + ‘The way father has been talking about you, Mr Clennam,’ said Mrs + Plornish, ‘you hardly would believe. It’s made him quite poorly. As to his + voice, this misfortune has took it away. You know what a sweet singer + father is; but he couldn’t get a note out for the children at tea, if + you’ll credit what I tell you.’ + </p> + <p> + While speaking, Mrs Plornish shook her head, and wiped her eyes, and + looked retrospectively about the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to Mr Baptist,’ pursued Mrs Plornish, ‘whatever he’ll do when he comes + to know of it, I can’t conceive nor yet imagine. He’d have been here + before now, you may be sure, but that he’s away on confidential business + of your own. The persevering manner in which he follows up that business, + and gives himself no rest from it—it really do,’ said Mrs Plornish, + winding up in the Italian manner, ‘as I say to him, Mooshattonisha + padrona.’ + </p> + <p> + Though not conceited, Mrs Plornish felt that she had turned this Tuscan + sentence with peculiar elegance. Mr Plornish could not conceal his + exultation in her accomplishments as a linguist. + </p> + <p> + ‘But what I say is, Mr Clennam,’ the good woman went on, ‘there’s always + something to be thankful for, as I am sure you will yourself admit. + Speaking in this room, it’s not hard to think what the present something + is. It’s a thing to be thankful for, indeed, that Miss Dorrit is not here + to know it.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur thought she looked at him with particular expression. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s a thing,’ reiterated Mrs Plornish, ‘to be thankful for, indeed, that + Miss Dorrit is far away. It’s to be hoped she is not likely to hear of it. + If she had been here to see it, sir, it’s not to be doubted that the sight + of you,’ Mrs Plornish repeated those words—‘not to be doubted, that + the sight of you—in misfortune and trouble, would have been almost + too much for her affectionate heart. There’s nothing I can think of, that + would have touched Miss Dorrit so bad as that.’ + </p> + <p> + Of a certainty Mrs Plornish did look at him now, with a sort of quivering + defiance in her friendly emotion. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes!’ said she. ‘And it shows what notice father takes, though at his + time of life, that he says to me this afternoon, which Happy Cottage knows + I neither make it up nor any ways enlarge, “Mary, it’s much to be rejoiced + in that Miss Dorrit is not on the spot to behold it.” Those were father’s + words. Father’s own words was, “Much to be rejoiced in, Mary, that Miss + Dorrit is not on the spot to behold it.” I says to father then, I says to + him, “Father, you are right!” That,’ Mrs Plornish concluded, with the air + of a very precise legal witness, ‘is what passed betwixt father and me. + And I tell you nothing but what did pass betwixt me and father.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Plornish, as being of a more laconic temperament, embraced this + opportunity of interposing with the suggestion that she should now leave + Mr Clennam to himself. ‘For, you see,’ said Mr Plornish, gravely, ‘I know + what it is, old gal;’ repeating that valuable remark several times, as if + it appeared to him to include some great moral secret. Finally, the worthy + couple went away arm in arm. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, Little Dorrit. Again, for hours. Always Little Dorrit! + </p> + <p> + Happily, if it ever had been so, it was over, and better over. Granted + that she had loved him, and he had known it and had suffered himself to + love her, what a road to have led her away upon—the road that would + have brought her back to this miserable place! He ought to be much + comforted by the reflection that she was quit of it forever; that she was, + or would soon be, married (vague rumours of her father’s projects in that + direction had reached Bleeding Heart Yard, with the news of her sister’s + marriage); and that the Marshalsea gate had shut for ever on all those + perplexed possibilities of a time that was gone. + </p> + <p> + Dear Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + Looking back upon his own poor story, she was its vanishing-point. Every + thing in its perspective led to her innocent figure. He had travelled + thousands of miles towards it; previous unquiet hopes and doubts had + worked themselves out before it; it was the centre of the interest of his + life; it was the termination of everything that was good and pleasant in + it; beyond, there was nothing but mere waste and darkened sky. + </p> + <p> + As ill at ease as on the first night of his lying down to sleep within + those dreary walls, he wore the night out with such thoughts. What time + Young John lay wrapt in peaceful slumber, after composing and arranging + the following monumental inscription on his pillow— + </p> +<pre> + STRANGER! + RESPECT THE TOMB OF + JOHN CHIVERY, JUNIOR, + WHO DIED AT AN ADVANCED AGE + NOT NECESSARY TO MENTION. + HE ENCOUNTERED HIS RIVAL IN A DISTRESSED STATE, + AND FELT INCLINED + TO HAVE A ROUND WITH HIM; + BUT, FOR THE SAKE OF THE LOVED ONE, + CONQUERED THOSE FEELINGS OF BITTERNESS, AND BECAME + MAGNANIMOUS. +</pre> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0064"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 28. An Appearance in the Marshalsea + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he opinion of the community outside the prison gates bore hard on Clennam + as time went on, and he made no friends among the community within. Too + depressed to associate with the herd in the yard, who got together to + forget their cares; too retiring and too unhappy to join in the poor + socialities of the tavern; he kept his own room, and was held in distrust. + Some said he was proud; some objected that he was sullen and reserved; + some were contemptuous of him, for that he was a poor-spirited dog who + pined under his debts. The whole population were shy of him on these + various counts of indictment, but especially the last, which involved a + species of domestic treason; and he soon became so confirmed in his + seclusion, that his only time for walking up and down was when the evening + Club were assembled at their songs and toasts and sentiments, and when the + yard was nearly left to the women and children. + </p> + <p> + Imprisonment began to tell upon him. He knew that he idled and moped. + After what he had known of the influences of imprisonment within the four + small walls of the very room he occupied, this consciousness made him + afraid of himself. Shrinking from the observation of other men, and + shrinking from his own, he began to change very sensibly. Anybody might + see that the shadow of the wall was dark upon him. + </p> + <p> + One day when he might have been some ten or twelve weeks in jail, and when + he had been trying to read and had not been able to release even the + imaginary people of the book from the Marshalsea, a footstep stopped at + his door, and a hand tapped at it. He arose and opened it, and an + agreeable voice accosted him with ‘How do you do, Mr Clennam? I hope I am + not unwelcome in calling to see you.’ + </p> + <p> + It was the sprightly young Barnacle, Ferdinand. He looked very + good-natured and prepossessing, though overpoweringly gay and free, in + contrast with the squalid prison. + </p> + <p> + ‘You are surprised to see me, Mr Clennam,’ he said, taking the seat which + Clennam offered him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I must confess to being much surprised.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not disagreeably, I hope?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘By no means.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you. Frankly,’ said the engaging young Barnacle, ‘I have been + excessively sorry to hear that you were under the necessity of a temporary + retirement here, and I hope (of course as between two private gentlemen) + that our place has had nothing to do with it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your office?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Our Circumlocution place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot charge any part of my reverses upon that remarkable + establishment.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my life,’ said the vivacious young Barnacle, ‘I am heartily glad to + know it. It is quite a relief to me to hear you say it. I should have so + exceedingly regretted our place having had anything to do with your + difficulties.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam again assured him that he absolved it of the responsibility. + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s right,’ said Ferdinand. ‘I am very happy to hear it. I was rather + afraid in my own mind that we might have helped to floor you, because + there is no doubt that it is our misfortune to do that kind of thing now + and then. We don’t want to do it; but if men will be gravelled, why—we + can’t help it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Without giving an unqualified assent to what you say,’ returned Arthur, + gloomily, ‘I am much obliged to you for your interest in me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, but really! Our place is,’ said the easy young Barnacle, ‘the most + inoffensive place possible. You’ll say we are a humbug. I won’t say we are + not; but all that sort of thing is intended to be, and must be. Don’t you + see?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘You don’t regard it from the right point of view. It is the point of view + that is the essential thing. Regard our place from the point of view that + we only ask you to leave us alone, and we are as capital a Department as + you’ll find anywhere.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Is your place there to be left alone?’ asked Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘You exactly hit it,’ returned Ferdinand. ‘It is there with the express + intention that everything shall be left alone. That is what it means. That + is what it’s for. No doubt there’s a certain form to be kept up that it’s + for something else, but it’s only a form. Why, good Heaven, we are nothing + but forms! Think what a lot of our forms you have gone through. And you + have never got any nearer to an end?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Look at it from the right point of view, and there you have us—official + and effectual. It’s like a limited game of cricket. A field of outsiders + are always going in to bowl at the Public Service, and we block the + balls.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam asked what became of the bowlers? The airy young Barnacle replied + that they grew tired, got dead beat, got lamed, got their backs broken, + died off, gave it up, went in for other games. + </p> + <p> + ‘And this occasions me to congratulate myself again,’ he pursued, ‘on the + circumstance that our place has had nothing to do with your temporary + retirement. It very easily might have had a hand in it; because it is + undeniable that we are sometimes a most unlucky place, in our effects upon + people who will not leave us alone. Mr Clennam, I am quite unreserved with + you. As between yourself and myself, I know I may be. I was so, when I + first saw you making the mistake of not leaving us alone; because I + perceived that you were inexperienced and sanguine, and had—I hope + you’ll not object to my saying—some simplicity?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at all.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Some simplicity. Therefore I felt what a pity it was, and I went out of + my way to hint to you (which really was not official, but I never am + official when I can help it) something to the effect that if I were you, I + wouldn’t bother myself. However, you did bother yourself, and you have + since bothered yourself. Now, don’t do it any more.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not likely to have the opportunity,’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh yes, you are! You’ll leave here. Everybody leaves here. There are no + ends of ways of leaving here. Now, don’t come back to us. That entreaty is + the second object of my call. Pray, don’t come back to us. Upon my + honour,’ said Ferdinand in a very friendly and confiding way, ‘I shall be + greatly vexed if you don’t take warning by the past and keep away from + us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And the invention?’ said Clennam. + </p> + <p> + ‘My good fellow,’ returned Ferdinand, ‘if you’ll excuse the freedom of + that form of address, nobody wants to know of the invention, and nobody + cares twopence-halfpenny about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nobody in the Office, that is to say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nor out of it. Everybody is ready to dislike and ridicule any invention. + You have no idea how many people want to be left alone. You have no idea + how the Genius of the country (overlook the Parliamentary nature of the + phrase, and don’t be bored by it) tends to being left alone. Believe me, + Mr Clennam,’ said the sprightly young Barnacle in his pleasantest manner, + ‘our place is not a wicked Giant to be charged at full tilt; but only a + windmill showing you, as it grinds immense quantities of chaff, which way + the country wind blows.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If I could believe that,’ said Clennam, ‘it would be a dismal prospect + for all of us.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Don’t say so!’ returned Ferdinand. ‘It’s all right. We must have + humbug, we all like humbug, we couldn’t get on without humbug. A little + humbug, and a groove, and everything goes on admirably, if you leave it + alone.’ + </p> + <p> + With this hopeful confession of his faith as the head of the rising + Barnacles who were born of woman, to be followed under a variety of + watchwords which they utterly repudiated and disbelieved, Ferdinand rose. + Nothing could be more agreeable than his frank and courteous bearing, or + adapted with a more gentlemanly instinct to the circumstances of his + visit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it fair to ask,’ he said, as Clennam gave him his hand with a real + feeling of thankfulness for his candour and good-humour, ‘whether it is + true that our late lamented Merdle is the cause of this passing + inconvenience?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am one of the many he has ruined. Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He must have been an exceedingly clever fellow,’ said Ferdinand Barnacle. + </p> + <p> + Arthur, not being in the mood to extol the memory of the deceased, was + silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘A consummate rascal, of course,’ said Ferdinand, ‘but remarkably clever! + One cannot help admiring the fellow. Must have been such a master of + humbug. Knew people so well—got over them so completely—did so + much with them!’ + </p> + <p> + In his easy way, he was really moved to genuine admiration. + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope,’ said Arthur, ‘that he and his dupes may be a warning to people + not to have so much done with them again.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear Mr Clennam,’ returned Ferdinand, laughing, ‘have you really such + a verdant hope? The next man who has as large a capacity and as genuine a + taste for swindling, will succeed as well. Pardon me, but I think you + really have no idea how the human bees will swarm to the beating of any + old tin kettle; in that fact lies the complete manual of governing them. + When they can be got to believe that the kettle is made of the precious + metals, in that fact lies the whole power of men like our late lamented. + No doubt there are here and there,’ said Ferdinand politely, ‘exceptional + cases, where people have been taken in for what appeared to them to be + much better reasons; and I need not go far to find such a case; but they + don’t invalidate the rule. Good day! I hope that when I have the pleasure + of seeing you, next, this passing cloud will have given place to sunshine. + Don’t come a step beyond the door. I know the way out perfectly. Good + day!’ + </p> + <p> + With those words, the best and brightest of the Barnacles went + down-stairs, hummed his way through the Lodge, mounted his horse in the + front court-yard, and rode off to keep an appointment with his noble + kinsman, who wanted a little coaching before he could triumphantly answer + certain infidel Snobs who were going to question the Nobs about their + statesmanship. + </p> + <p> + He must have passed Mr Rugg on his way out, for, a minute or two + afterwards, that ruddy-headed gentleman shone in at the door, like an + elderly Phoebus. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you do to-day, sir?’ said Mr Rugg. ‘Is there any little thing I + can do for you to-day, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I thank you.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Rugg’s enjoyment of embarrassed affairs was like a housekeeper’s + enjoyment in pickling and preserving, or a washerwoman’s enjoyment of a + heavy wash, or a dustman’s enjoyment of an overflowing dust-bin, or any + other professional enjoyment of a mess in the way of business. + </p> + <p> + ‘I still look round, from time to time, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, cheerfully, + ‘to see whether any lingering Detainers are accumulating at the gate. They + have fallen in pretty thick, sir; as thick as we could have expected.’ + </p> + <p> + He remarked upon the circumstance as if it were matter of congratulation: + rubbing his hands briskly, and rolling his head a little. + </p> + <p> + ‘As thick,’ repeated Mr Rugg, ‘as we could reasonably have expected. Quite + a shower-bath of ‘em. I don’t often intrude upon you now, when I look + round, because I know you are not inclined for company, and that if you + wished to see me, you would leave word in the Lodge. But I am here pretty + well every day, sir. Would this be an unseasonable time, sir,’ asked Mr + Rugg, coaxingly, ‘for me to offer an observation?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘As seasonable a time as any other.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hum! Public opinion, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, ‘has been busy with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t doubt it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Might it not be advisable, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, more coaxingly yet, ‘now + to make, at last and after all, a trifling concession to public opinion? + We all do it in one way or another. The fact is, we must do it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I cannot set myself right with it, Mr Rugg, and have no business to + expect that I ever shall.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say that, sir, don’t say that. The cost of being moved to the Bench + is almost insignificant, and if the general feeling is strong that you + ought to be there, why—really—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought you had settled, Mr Rugg,’ said Arthur, ‘that my determination + to remain here was a matter of taste.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Well, sir, well! But is it good taste, is it good taste? That’s the + Question.’ Mr Rugg was so soothingly persuasive as to be quite pathetic. + ‘I was almost going to say, is it good feeling? This is an extensive + affair of yours; and your remaining here where a man can come for a pound + or two, is remarked upon as not in keeping. It is not in keeping. I can’t + tell you, sir, in how many quarters I heard it mentioned. I heard comments + made upon it last night in a Parlour frequented by what I should call, if + I did not look in there now and then myself, the best legal company—I + heard, there, comments on it that I was sorry to hear. They hurt me on + your account. Again, only this morning at breakfast. My daughter (but a + woman, you’ll say: yet still with a feeling for these things, and even + with some little personal experience, as the plaintiff in Rugg and + Bawkins) was expressing her great surprise; her great surprise. Now under + these circumstances, and considering that none of us can quite set + ourselves above public opinion, wouldn’t a trifling concession to that + opinion be—Come, sir,’ said Rugg, ‘I will put it on the lowest + ground of argument, and say, Amiable?’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur’s thoughts had once more wandered away to Little Dorrit, and the + question remained unanswered. + </p> + <p> + ‘As to myself, sir,’ said Mr Rugg, hoping that his eloquence had reduced + him to a state of indecision, ‘it is a principle of mine not to consider + myself when a client’s inclinations are in the scale. But, knowing your + considerate character and general wish to oblige, I will repeat that I + should prefer your being in the Bench. Your case has made a noise; it is a + creditable case to be professionally concerned in; I should feel on a + better standing with my connection, if you went to the Bench. Don’t let + that influence you, sir. I merely state the fact.’ + </p> + <p> + So errant had the prisoner’s attention already grown in solitude and + dejection, and so accustomed had it become to commune with only one silent + figure within the ever-frowning walls, that Clennam had to shake off a + kind of stupor before he could look at Mr Rugg, recall the thread of his + talk, and hurriedly say, ‘I am unchanged, and unchangeable, in my + decision. Pray, let it be; let it be!’ Mr Rugg, without concealing that he + was nettled and mortified, replied: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! Beyond a doubt, sir. I have travelled out of the record, sir, I am + aware, in putting the point to you. But really, when I hear it remarked in + several companies, and in very good company, that however worthy of a + foreigner, it is not worthy of the spirit of an Englishman to remain in + the Marshalsea when the glorious liberties of his island home admit of his + removal to the Bench, I thought I would depart from the narrow + professional line marked out to me, and mention it. Personally,’ said Mr + Rugg, ‘I have no opinion on the topic.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That’s well,’ returned Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! None at all, sir!’ said Mr Rugg. ‘If I had, I should have been + unwilling, some minutes ago, to see a client of mine visited in this place + by a gentleman of a high family riding a saddle-horse. But it was not my + business. If I had, I might have wished to be now empowered to mention to + another gentleman, a gentleman of military exterior at present waiting in + the Lodge, that my client had never intended to remain here, and was on + the eve of removal to a superior abode. But my course as a professional + machine is clear; I have nothing to do with it. Is it your good pleasure + to see the gentleman, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who is waiting to see me, did you say?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did take that unprofessional liberty, sir. Hearing that I was your + professional adviser, he declined to interpose before my very limited + function was performed. Happily,’ said Mr Rugg, with sarcasm, ‘I did not + so far travel out of the record as to ask the gentleman for his name.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppose I have no resource but to see him,’ sighed Clennam, wearily. + </p> + <p> + ‘Then it <i>is</i> your good pleasure, sir?’ retorted Rugg. ‘Am I honoured + by your instructions to mention as much to the gentleman, as I pass out? I + am? Thank you, sir. I take my leave.’ His leave he took accordingly, in + dudgeon. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman of military exterior had so imperfectly awakened Clennam’s + curiosity, in the existing state of his mind, that a half-forgetfulness of + such a visitor’s having been referred to, was already creeping over it as + a part of the sombre veil which almost always dimmed it now, when a heavy + footstep on the stairs aroused him. It appeared to ascend them, not very + promptly or spontaneously, yet with a display of stride and clatter meant + to be insulting. As it paused for a moment on the landing outside his + door, he could not recall his association with the peculiarity of its + sound, though he thought he had one. Only a moment was given him for + consideration. His door was immediately swung open by a thump, and in the + doorway stood the missing Blandois, the cause of many anxieties. + </p> + <p> + ‘Salve, fellow jail-bird!’ said he. ‘You want me, it seems. Here I am!’ + </p> + <p> + Before Arthur could speak to him in his indignant wonder, Cavalletto + followed him into the room. Mr Pancks followed Cavalletto. Neither of the + two had been there since its present occupant had had possession of it. Mr + Pancks, breathing hard, sidled near the window, put his hat on the ground, + stirred his hair up with both hands, and folded his arms, like a man who + had come to a pause in a hard day’s work. Mr Baptist, never taking his + eyes from his dreaded chum of old, softly sat down on the floor with his + back against the door and one of his ankles in each hand: resuming the + attitude (except that it was now expressive of unwinking watchfulness) in + which he had sat before the same man in the deeper shade of another + prison, one hot morning at Marseilles. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0660m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0660m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0660.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + ‘I have it on the witnessing of these two madmen,’ said Monsieur Blandois, + otherwise Lagnier, otherwise Rigaud, ‘that you want me, brother-bird. Here + I am!’ + </p> + <p> + Glancing round contemptuously at the bedstead, which was turned up by day, + he leaned his back against it as a resting-place, without removing his hat + from his head, and stood defiantly lounging with his hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + ‘You villain of ill-omen!’ said Arthur. ‘You have purposely cast a + dreadful suspicion upon my mother’s house. Why have you done it? What + prompted you to the devilish invention?’ + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rigaud, after frowning at him for a moment, laughed. ‘Hear this + noble gentleman! Listen, all the world, to this creature of Virtue! But + take care, take care. It is possible, my friend, that your ardour is a + little compromising. Holy Blue! It is possible.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Signore!’ interposed Cavalletto, also addressing Arthur: ‘for to + commence, hear me! I received your instructions to find him, Rigaud; is it + not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is the truth.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I go, consequentementally,’—it would have given Mrs Plornish great + concern if she could have been persuaded that his occasional lengthening + of an adverb in this way, was the chief fault of his English,—‘first + among my countrymen. I ask them what news in Londra, of foreigners + arrived. Then I go among the French. Then I go among the Germans. They all + tell me. The great part of us know well the other, and they all tell me. + But!—no person can tell me nothing of him, Rigaud. Fifteen times,’ + said Cavalletto, thrice throwing out his left hand with all its fingers + spread, and doing it so rapidly that the sense of sight could hardly + follow the action, ‘I ask of him in every place where go the foreigners; + and fifteen times,’ repeating the same swift performance, ‘they know + nothing. But!—’ + </p> + <p> + At this significant Italian rest on the word ‘But,’ his backhanded shake + of his right forefinger came into play; a very little, and very + cautiously. + </p> + <p> + ‘But!—After a long time when I have not been able to find that he is + here in Londra, some one tells me of a soldier with white hair—hey?—not + hair like this that he carries—white—who lives retired + secrettementally, in a certain place. But!—’ with another rest upon + the word, ‘who sometimes in the after-dinner, walks, and smokes. It is + necessary, as they say in Italy (and as they know, poor people), to have + patience. I have patience. I ask where is this certain place. One. + believes it is here, one believes it is there. Eh well! It is not here, it + is not there. I wait patientissamentally. At last I find it. Then I watch; + then I hide, until he walks and smokes. He is a soldier with grey hair—But!—’ + a very decided rest indeed, and a very vigorous play from side to side of + the back-handed forefinger—‘he is also this man that you see.’ + </p> + <p> + It was noticeable, that, in his old habit of submission to one who had + been at the trouble of asserting superiority over him, he even then + bestowed upon Rigaud a confused bend of his head, after thus pointing him + out. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh well, Signore!’ he cried in conclusion, addressing Arthur again. ‘I + waited for a good opportunity. I writed some words to Signor Panco,’ an + air of novelty came over Mr Pancks with this designation, ‘to come and + help. I showed him, Rigaud, at his window, to Signor Panco, who was often + the spy in the day. I slept at night near the door of the house. At last + we entered, only this to-day, and now you see him! As he would not come up + in presence of the illustrious Advocate,’ such was Mr Baptist’s honourable + mention of Mr Rugg, ‘we waited down below there, together, and Signor + Panco guarded the street.’ + </p> + <p> + At the close of this recital, Arthur turned his eyes upon the impudent and + wicked face. As it met his, the nose came down over the moustache and the + moustache went up under the nose. When nose and moustache had settled into + their places again, Monsieur Rigaud loudly snapped his fingers + half-a-dozen times; bending forward to jerk the snaps at Arthur, as if + they were palpable missiles which he jerked into his face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Philosopher!’ said Rigaud. ‘What do you want with me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I want to know,’ returned Arthur, without disguising his abhorrence, ‘how + you dare direct a suspicion of murder against my mother’s house?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dare!’ cried Rigaud. ‘Ho, ho! Hear him! Dare? Is it dare? By Heaven, my + small boy, but you are a little imprudent!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I want that suspicion to be cleared away,’ said Arthur. ‘You shall be + taken there, and be publicly seen. I want to know, moreover, what business + you had there when I had a burning desire to fling you down-stairs. Don’t + frown at me, man! I have seen enough of you to know that you are a bully + and coward. I need no revival of my spirits from the effects of this + wretched place to tell you so plain a fact, and one that you know so + well.’ + </p> + <p> + White to the lips, Rigaud stroked his moustache, muttering, ‘By Heaven, my + small boy, but you are a little compromising of my lady, your respectable + mother’—and seemed for a minute undecided how to act. His indecision + was soon gone. He sat himself down with a threatening swagger, and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Give me a bottle of wine. You can buy wine here. Send one of your madmen + to get me a bottle of wine. I won’t talk to you without wine. Come! Yes or + no?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Fetch him what he wants, Cavalletto,’ said Arthur, scornfully, producing + the money. + </p> + <p> + ‘Contraband beast,’ added Rigaud, ‘bring Port wine! I’ll drink nothing but + Porto-Porto.’ + </p> + <p> + The contraband beast, however, assuring all present, with his significant + finger, that he peremptorily declined to leave his post at the door, + Signor Panco offered his services. He soon returned with the bottle of + wine: which, according to the custom of the place, originating in a + scarcity of corkscrews among the Collegians (in common with a scarcity of + much else), was already opened for use. + </p> + <p> + ‘Madman! A large glass,’ said Rigaud. + </p> + <p> + Signor Panco put a tumbler before him; not without a visible conflict of + feeling on the question of throwing it at his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘Haha!’ boasted Rigaud. ‘Once a gentleman, and always a gentleman. A + gentleman from the beginning, and a gentleman to the end. What the Devil! + A gentleman must be waited on, I hope? It’s a part of my character to be + waited on!’ + </p> + <p> + He half filled the tumbler as he said it, and drank off the contents when + he had done saying it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hah!’ smacking his lips. ‘Not a very old prisoner <i>that</i>! I judge by + your looks, brave sir, that imprisonment will subdue your blood much + sooner than it softens this hot wine. You are mellowing—losing body + and colour already. I salute you!’ + </p> + <p> + He tossed off another half glass: holding it up both before and + afterwards, so as to display his small, white hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘To business,’ he then continued. ‘To conversation. You have shown + yourself more free of speech than body, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have used the freedom of telling you what you know yourself to be. You + know yourself, as we all know you, to be far worse than that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Add, always a gentleman, and it’s no matter. Except in that regard, we + are all alike. For example: you couldn’t for your life be a gentleman; I + couldn’t for my life be otherwise. How great the difference! Let us go on. + Words, sir, never influence the course of the cards, or the course of the + dice. Do you know that? You do? I also play a game, and words are without + power over it.’ + </p> + <p> + Now that he was confronted with Cavalletto, and knew that his story was + known—whatever thin disguise he had worn, he dropped; and faced it + out, with a bare face, as the infamous wretch he was. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, my son,’ he resumed, with a snap of his fingers. ‘I play my game to + the end in spite of words; and Death of my Body and Death of my Soul! I’ll + win it. You want to know why I played this little trick that you have + interrupted? Know then that I had, and that I have—do you understand + me? have—a commodity to sell to my lady your respectable mother. I + described my precious commodity, and fixed my price. Touching the bargain, + your admirable mother was a little too calm, too stolid, too immovable and + statue-like. In fine, your admirable mother vexed me. To make variety in + my position, and to amuse myself—what! a gentleman must be amused at + somebody’s expense!—I conceived the happy idea of disappearing. An + idea, see you, that your characteristic mother and my Flintwinch would + have been well enough pleased to execute. Ah! Bah, bah, bah, don’t look as + from high to low at me! I repeat it. Well enough pleased, excessively + enchanted, and with all their hearts ravished. How strongly will you have + it?’ + </p> + <p> + He threw out the lees of his glass on the ground, so that they nearly + spattered Cavalletto. This seemed to draw his attention to him anew. He + set down his glass and said: + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll not fill it. What! I am born to be served. Come then, you + Cavalletto, and fill!’ + </p> + <p> + The little man looked at Clennam, whose eyes were occupied with Rigaud, + and, seeing no prohibition, got up from the ground, and poured out from + the bottle into the glass. The blending, as he did so, of his old + submission with a sense of something humorous; the striving of that with a + certain smouldering ferocity, which might have flashed fire in an instant + (as the born gentleman seemed to think, for he had a wary eye upon him); + and the easy yielding of all to a good-natured, careless, predominant + propensity to sit down on the ground again: formed a very remarkable + combination of character. + </p> + <p> + ‘This happy idea, brave sir,’ Rigaud resumed after drinking, ‘was a happy + idea for several reasons. It amused me, it worried your dear mama and my + Flintwinch, it caused you agonies (my terms for a lesson in politeness + towards a gentleman), and it suggested to all the amiable persons + interested that your entirely devoted is a man to fear. By Heaven, he is a + man to fear! Beyond this; it might have restored her wit to my lady your + mother—might, under the pressing little suspicion your wisdom has + recognised, have persuaded her at last to announce, covertly, in the + journals, that the difficulties of a certain contract would be removed by + the appearance of a certain important party to it. Perhaps yes, perhaps + no. But that, you have interrupted. Now, what is it you say? What is it + you want?’ + </p> + <p> + Never had Clennam felt more acutely that he was a prisoner in bonds, than + when he saw this man before him, and could not accompany him to his + mother’s house. All the undiscernible difficulties and dangers he had ever + feared were closing in, when he could not stir hand or foot. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perhaps, my friend, philosopher, man of virtue, Imbecile, what you will; + perhaps,’ said Rigaud, pausing in his drink to look out of his glass with + his horrible smile, ‘you would have done better to leave me alone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No! At least,’ said Clennam, ‘you are known to be alive and unharmed. At + least you cannot escape from these two witnesses; and they can produce you + before any public authorities, or before hundreds of people!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But will not produce me before one,’ said Rigaud, snapping his fingers + again with an air of triumphant menace. ‘To the Devil with your witnesses! + To the Devil with your produced! To the Devil with yourself! What! Do I + know what I know, for that? Have I my commodity on sale, for that? Bah, + poor debtor! You have interrupted my little project. Let it pass. How + then? What remains? To you, nothing; to me, all. Produce <i>me</i>! Is + that what you want? I will produce myself, only too quickly. + Contrabandist! Give me pen, ink, and paper.’ + </p> + <p> + Cavalletto got up again as before, and laid them before him in his former + manner. Rigaud, after some villainous thinking and smiling, wrote, and + read aloud, as follows: + </p> + <p> + ‘To MRS CLENNAM. + </p> + <p> + ‘Wait answer. + </p> + <p> + ‘Prison of the Marshalsea. ‘At the apartment of your son. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Madam, ‘I am in despair to be informed to-day by our prisoner here + (who has had the goodness to employ spies to seek me, living for politic + reasons in retirement), that you have had fears for my safety. + </p> + <p> + ‘Reassure yourself, dear madam. I am well, I am strong and constant. + </p> + <p> + ‘With the greatest impatience I should fly to your house, but that I + foresee it to be possible, under the circumstances, that you will not yet + have quite definitively arranged the little proposition I have had the + honour to submit to you. I name one week from this day, for a last final + visit on my part; when you will unconditionally accept it or reject it, + with its train of consequences. + </p> + <p> + ‘I suppress my ardour to embrace you and achieve this interesting + business, in order that you may have leisure to adjust its details to our + perfect mutual satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + ‘In the meanwhile, it is not too much to propose (our prisoner having + deranged my housekeeping), that my expenses of lodging and nourishment at + an hotel shall be paid by you. + </p> + <p> + ‘Receive, dear madam, the assurance of my highest and most distinguished + consideration, + </p> + <h3> + RIGAUD BLANDOIS. + </h3> + <p> + ‘A thousand friendships to that dear Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + ‘I kiss the hands of Madame F.’ + </p> + <p> + When he had finished this epistle, Rigaud folded it and tossed it with a + flourish at Clennam’s feet. ‘Hola you! Apropos of producing, let somebody + produce that at its address, and produce the answer here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Cavalletto,’ said Arthur. ‘Will you take this fellow’s letter?’ + </p> + <p> + But, Cavalletto’s significant finger again expressing that his post was at + the door to keep watch over Rigaud, now he had found him with so much + trouble, and that the duty of his post was to sit on the floor backed up + by the door, looking at Rigaud and holding his own ankles,—Signor + Panco once more volunteered. His services being accepted, Cavalletto + suffered the door to open barely wide enough to admit of his squeezing + himself out, and immediately shut it on him. + </p> + <p> + ‘Touch me with a finger, touch me with an epithet, question my superiority + as I sit here drinking my wine at my pleasure,’ said Rigaud, ‘and I follow + the letter and cancel my week’s grace. <i>You</i> wanted me? You have got + me! How do you like me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know,’ returned Clennam, with a bitter sense of his helplessness, + ‘that when I sought you, I was not a prisoner.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To the Devil with you and your prison,’ retorted Rigaud, leisurely, as he + took from his pocket a case containing the materials for making + cigarettes, and employed his facile hands in folding a few for present + use; ‘I care for neither of you. Contrabandist! A light.’ + </p> + <p> + Again Cavalletto got up, and gave him what he wanted. There had been + something dreadful in the noiseless skill of his cold, white hands, with + the fingers lithely twisting about and twining one over another like + serpents. Clennam could not prevent himself from shuddering inwardly, as + if he had been looking on at a nest of those creatures. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hola, Pig!’ cried Rigaud, with a noisy stimulating cry, as if Cavalletto + were an Italian horse or mule. ‘What! The infernal old jail was a + respectable one to this. There was dignity in the bars and stones of that + place. It was a prison for men. But this? Bah! A hospital for imbeciles!’ + </p> + <p> + He smoked his cigarette out, with his ugly smile so fixed upon his face + that he looked as though he were smoking with his drooping beak of a nose, + rather than with his mouth; like a fancy in a weird picture. When he had + lighted a second cigarette at the still burning end of the first, he said + to Clennam: + </p> + <p> + ‘One must pass the time in the madman’s absence. One must talk. One can’t + drink strong wine all day long, or I would have another bottle. She’s + handsome, sir. Though not exactly to my taste, still, by the Thunder and + the Lightning! handsome. I felicitate you on your admiration.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I neither know nor ask,’ said Clennam, ‘of whom you speak.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Della bella Gowana, sir, as they say in Italy. Of the Gowan, the fair + Gowan.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of whose husband you were the—follower, I think?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Sir? Follower? You are insolent. The friend.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you sell all your friends?’ + </p> + <p> + Rigaud took his cigarette from his mouth, and eyed him with a momentary + revelation of surprise. But he put it between his lips again, as he + answered with coolness: + </p> + <p> + ‘I sell anything that commands a price. How do your lawyers live, your + politicians, your intriguers, your men of the Exchange? How do you live? + How do you come here? Have you sold no friend? Lady of mine! I rather + think, yes!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam turned away from him towards the window, and sat looking out at + the wall. + </p> + <p> + ‘Effectively, sir,’ said Rigaud, ‘Society sells itself and sells me: and I + sell Society. I perceive you have acquaintance with another lady. Also + handsome. A strong spirit. Let us see. How do they call her? Wade.’ + </p> + <p> + He received no answer, but could easily discern that he had hit the mark. + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ he went on, ‘that handsome lady and strong spirit addresses me in + the street, and I am not insensible. I respond. That handsome lady and + strong spirit does me the favour to remark, in full confidence, “I have my + curiosity, and I have my chagrins. You are not more than ordinarily + honourable, perhaps?” I announce myself, “Madame, a gentleman from the + birth, and a gentleman to the death; but <i>not</i> more than ordinarily + honourable. I despise such a weak fantasy.” Thereupon she is pleased to + compliment. “The difference between you and the rest is,” she answers, + “that you say so.” For she knows Society. I accept her congratulations + with gallantry and politeness. Politeness and little gallantries are + inseparable from my character. She then makes a proposition, which is, in + effect, that she has seen us much together; that it appears to her that I + am for the passing time the cat of the house, the friend of the family; + that her curiosity and her chagrins awaken the fancy to be acquainted with + their movements, to know the manner of their life, how the fair Gowana is + beloved, how the fair Gowana is cherished, and so on. She is not rich, but + offers such and such little recompenses for the little cares and + derangements of such services; and I graciously—to do everything + graciously is a part of my character—consent to accept them. O yes! + So goes the world. It is the mode.’ + </p> + <p> + Though Clennam’s back was turned while he spoke, and thenceforth to the + end of the interview, he kept those glittering eyes of his that were too + near together, upon him, and evidently saw in the very carriage of the + head, as he passed with his braggart recklessness from clause to clause of + what he said, that he was saying nothing which Clennam did not already + know. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whoof! The fair Gowana!’ he said, lighting a third cigarette with a sound + as if his lightest breath could blow her away. ‘Charming, but imprudent! + For it was not well of the fair Gowana to make mysteries of letters from + old lovers, in her bedchamber on the mountain, that her husband might not + see them. No, no. That was not well. Whoof! The Gowana was mistaken + there.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I earnestly hope,’ cried Arthur aloud, ‘that Pancks may not be long gone, + for this man’s presence pollutes the room.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Ah! But he’ll flourish here, and everywhere,’ said Rigaud, with an + exulting look and snap of his fingers. ‘He always has; he always will!’ + Stretching his body out on the only three chairs in the room besides that + on which Clennam sat, he sang, smiting himself on the breast as the + gallant personage of the song. + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine! + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Who passes by this road so late? + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay! + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + ‘Sing the Refrain, pig! You could sing it once, in another jail. Sing it! + Or, by every Saint who was stoned to death, I’ll be affronted and + compromising; and then some people who are not dead yet, had better have + been stoned along with them!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Of all the king’s knights ‘tis the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Compagnon de la Majolaine! + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + Of all the king’s knights ‘tis the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + Always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + Partly in his old habit of submission, partly because his not doing it + might injure his benefactor, and partly because he would as soon do it as + anything else, Cavalletto took up the Refrain this time. Rigaud laughed, + and fell to smoking with his eyes shut. + </p> + <p> + Possibly another quarter of an hour elapsed before Mr Pancks’s step was + heard upon the stairs, but the interval seemed to Clennam insupportably + long. His step was attended by another step; and when Cavalletto opened + the door, he admitted Mr Pancks and Mr Flintwinch. The latter was no + sooner visible, than Rigaud rushed at him and embraced him boisterously. + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you find yourself, sir?’ said Mr Flintwinch, as soon as he could + disengage himself, which he struggled to do with very little ceremony. + ‘Thank you, no; I don’t want any more.’ This was in reference to another + menace of attention from his recovered friend. ‘Well, Arthur. You remember + what I said to you about sleeping dogs and missing ones. It’s come true, + you see.’ + </p> + <p> + He was as imperturbable as ever, to all appearance, and nodded his head in + a moralising way as he looked round the room. + </p> + <p> + ‘And this is the Marshalsea prison for debt!’ said Mr Flintwinch. ‘Hah! + you have brought your pigs to a very indifferent market, Arthur.’ + </p> + <p> + If Arthur had patience, Rigaud had not. He took his little Flintwinch, + with fierce playfulness, by the two lapels of his coat, and cried: + </p> + <p> + ‘To the Devil with the Market, to the Devil with the Pigs, and to the + Devil with the Pig-Driver! Now! Give me the answer to my letter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you can make it convenient to let go a moment, sir,’ returned Mr + Flintwinch, ‘I’ll first hand Mr Arthur a little note that I have for him.’ + </p> + <p> + He did so. It was in his mother’s maimed writing, on a slip of paper, and + contained only these words: + </p> + <p> + ‘I hope it is enough that you have ruined yourself. Rest contented without + more ruin. Jeremiah Flintwinch is my messenger and representative. Your + affectionate M. C.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam read this twice, in silence, and then tore it to pieces. Rigaud in + the meanwhile stepped into a chair, and sat himself on the back with his + feet upon the seat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, Beau Flintwinch,’ he said, when he had closely watched the note to + its destruction, ‘the answer to my letter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Clennam did not write, Mr Blandois, her hands being cramped, and she + thinking it as well to send it verbally by me.’ Mr Flintwinch screwed this + out of himself, unwillingly and rustily. ‘She sends her compliments, and + says she doesn’t on the whole wish to term you unreasonable, and that she + agrees. But without prejudicing the appointment that stands for this day + week.’ + </p> + <p> + Monsieur Rigaud, after indulging in a fit of laughter, descended from his + throne, saying, ‘Good! I go to seek an hotel!’ But, there his eyes + encountered Cavalletto, who was still at his post. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come, Pig,’ he added, ‘I have had you for a follower against my will; + now, I’ll have you against yours. I tell you, my little reptiles, I am + born to be served. I demand the service of this contrabandist as my + domestic until this day week.’ + </p> + <p> + In answer to Cavalletto’s look of inquiry, Clennam made him a sign to go; + but he added aloud, ‘unless you are afraid of him.’ Cavalletto replied + with a very emphatic finger-negative.‘No, master, I am not afraid of him, + when I no more keep it secrettementally that he was once my comrade.’ + Rigaud took no notice of either remark until he had lighted his last + cigarette and was quite ready for walking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Afraid of him,’ he said then, looking round upon them all. ‘Whoof! My + children, my babies, my little dolls, you are all afraid of him. You give + him his bottle of wine here; you give him meat, drink, and lodging there; + you dare not touch him with a finger or an epithet. No. It is his + character to triumph! Whoof! + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p class="indent15"> + ‘Of all the king’s knights he’s the flower, + </p> + <p class="indent20"> + And he’s always gay!’ + </p> + <p> + <br> + </p> + <p> + With this adaptation of the Refrain to himself, he stalked out of the room + closely followed by Cavalletto, whom perhaps he had pressed into his + service because he tolerably well knew it would not be easy to get rid of + him. Mr Flintwinch, after scraping his chin, and looking about with + caustic disparagement of the Pig-Market, nodded to Arthur, and followed. + Mr Pancks, still penitent and depressed, followed too; after receiving + with great attention a secret word or two of instructions from Arthur, and + whispering back that he would see this affair out, and stand by it to the + end. The prisoner, with the feeling that he was more despised, more + scorned and repudiated, more helpless, altogether more miserable and + fallen than before, was left alone again. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0065"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 29. A Plea in the Marshalsea + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>aggard anxiety and remorse are bad companions to be barred up with. + Brooding all day, and resting very little indeed at night, will not arm a + man against misery. Next morning, Clennam felt that his health was + sinking, as his spirits had already sunk and that the weight under which + he bent was bearing him down. + </p> + <p> + Night after night he had risen from his bed of wretchedness at twelve or + one o’clock, and had sat at his window watching the sickly lamps in the + yard, and looking upward for the first wan trace of day, hours before it + was possible that the sky could show it to him. Now when the night came, + he could not even persuade himself to undress. + </p> + <p> + For a burning restlessness set in, an agonised impatience of the prison, + and a conviction that he was going to break his heart and die there, which + caused him indescribable suffering. His dread and hatred of the place + became so intense that he felt it a labour to draw his breath in it. The + sensation of being stifled sometimes so overpowered him, that he would + stand at the window holding his throat and gasping. At the same time a + longing for other air, and a yearning to be beyond the blind blank wall, + made him feel as if he must go mad with the ardour of the desire. + </p> + <p> + Many other prisoners had had experience of this condition before him, and + its violence and continuity had worn themselves out in their cases, as + they did in his. Two nights and a day exhausted it. It came back by fits, + but those grew fainter and returned at lengthening intervals. A desolate + calm succeeded; and the middle of the week found him settled down in the + despondency of low, slow fever. + </p> + <p> + With Cavalletto and Pancks away, he had no visitors to fear but Mr and Mrs + Plornish. His anxiety, in reference to that worthy pair, was that they + should not come near him; for, in the morbid state of his nerves, he + sought to be left alone, and spared the being seen so subdued and weak. He + wrote a note to Mrs Plornish representing himself as occupied with his + affairs, and bound by the necessity of devoting himself to them, to remain + for a time even without the pleasant interruption of a sight of her kind + face. As to Young John, who looked in daily at a certain hour, when the + turnkeys were relieved, to ask if he could do anything for him; he always + made a pretence of being engaged in writing, and to answer cheerfully in + the negative. The subject of their only long conversation had never been + revived between them. Through all these changes of unhappiness, however, + it had never lost its hold on Clennam’s mind. + </p> + <p> + The sixth day of the appointed week was a moist, hot, misty day. It seemed + as though the prison’s poverty, and shabbiness, and dirt, were growing in + the sultry atmosphere. With an aching head and a weary heart, Clennam had + watched the miserable night out, listening to the fall of rain on the yard + pavement, thinking of its softer fall upon the country earth. A blurred + circle of yellow haze had risen up in the sky in lieu of sun, and he had + watched the patch it put upon his wall, like a bit of the prison’s + raggedness. He had heard the gates open; and the badly shod feet that + waited outside shuffle in; and the sweeping, and pumping, and moving + about, begin, which commenced the prison morning. So ill and faint that he + was obliged to rest many times in the process of getting himself washed, + he had at length crept to his chair by the open window. In it he sat + dozing, while the old woman who arranged his room went through her + morning’s work. + </p> + <p> + Light of head with want of sleep and want of food (his appetite, and even + his sense of taste, having forsaken him), he had been two or three times + conscious, in the night, of going astray. He had heard fragments of tunes + and songs in the warm wind, which he knew had no existence. Now that he + began to doze in exhaustion, he heard them again; and voices seemed to + address him, and he answered, and started. + </p> + <p> + Dozing and dreaming, without the power of reckoning time, so that a minute + might have been an hour and an hour a minute, some abiding impression of a + garden stole over him—a garden of flowers, with a damp warm wind + gently stirring their scents. It required such a painful effort to lift + his head for the purpose of inquiring into this, or inquiring into + anything, that the impression appeared to have become quite an old and + importunate one when he looked round. Beside the tea-cup on his table he + saw, then, a blooming nosegay: a wonderful handful of the choicest and + most lovely flowers. + </p> + <p> + Nothing had ever appeared so beautiful in his sight. He took them up and + inhaled their fragrance, and he lifted them to his hot head, and he put + them down and opened his parched hands to them, as cold hands are opened + to receive the cheering of a fire. It was not until he had delighted in + them for some time, that he wondered who had sent them; and opened his + door to ask the woman who must have put them there, how they had come into + her hands. But she was gone, and seemed to have been long gone; for the + tea she had left for him on the table was cold. He tried to drink some, + but could not bear the odour of it: so he crept back to his chair by the + open window, and put the flowers on the little round table of old. + </p> + <p> + When the first faintness consequent on having moved about had left him, he + subsided into his former state. One of the night-tunes was playing in the + wind, when the door of his room seemed to open to a light touch, and, + after a moment’s pause, a quiet figure seemed to stand there, with a black + mantle on it. It seemed to draw the mantle off and drop it on the ground, + and then it seemed to be his Little Dorrit in her old, worn dress. It + seemed to tremble, and to clasp its hands, and to smile, and to burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + He roused himself, and cried out. And then he saw, in the loving, pitying, + sorrowing, dear face, as in a mirror, how changed he was; and she came + towards him; and with her hands laid on his breast to keep him in his + chair, and with her knees upon the floor at his feet, and with her lips + raised up to kiss him, and with her tears dropping on him as the rain from + Heaven had dropped upon the flowers, Little Dorrit, a living presence, + called him by his name. + </p> + <p> + ‘O, my best friend! Dear Mr Clennam, don’t let me see you weep! Unless you + weep with pleasure to see me. I hope you do. Your own poor child come + back!’ + </p> + <p> + So faithful, tender, and unspoiled by Fortune. In the sound of her voice, + in the light of her eyes, in the touch of her hands, so Angelically + comforting and true! + </p> + <p> + As he embraced her, she said to him, ‘They never told me you were ill,’ + and drawing an arm softly round his neck, laid his head upon her bosom, + put a hand upon his head, and resting her cheek upon that hand, nursed him + as lovingly, and GOD knows as innocently, as she had nursed her father in + that room when she had been but a baby, needing all the care from others + that she took of them. + </p> + <p> + When he could speak, he said, ‘Is it possible that you have come to me? + And in this dress?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I hoped you would like me better in this dress than any other. I have + always kept it by me, to remind me: though I wanted no reminding. I am not + alone, you see. I have brought an old friend with me.’ + </p> + <p> + Looking round, he saw Maggy in her big cap which had been long abandoned, + with a basket on her arm as in the bygone days, chuckling rapturously. + </p> + <p> + ‘It was only yesterday evening that I came to London with my brother. I + sent round to Mrs Plornish almost as soon as we arrived, that I might hear + of you and let you know I had come. Then I heard that you were here. Did + you happen to think of me in the night? I almost believe you must have + thought of me a little. I thought of you so anxiously, and it appeared so + long to morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have thought of you—’ he hesitated what to call her. She + perceived it in an instant. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have not spoken to me by my right name yet. You know what my right + name always is with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have thought of you, Little Dorrit, every day, every hour, every + minute, since I have been here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you? Have you?’ + </p> + <p> + He saw the bright delight of her face, and the flush that kindled in it, + with a feeling of shame. He, a broken, bankrupt, sick, dishonoured + prisoner. + </p> + <p> + ‘I was here before the gates were opened, but I was afraid to come + straight to you. I should have done you more harm than good, at first; for + the prison was so familiar and yet so strange, and it brought back so many + remembrances of my poor father, and of you too, that at first it + overpowered me. But we went to Mr Chivery before we came to the gate, and + he brought us in, and got John’s room for us—my poor old room, you + know—and we waited there a little. I brought the flowers to the + door, but you didn’t hear me.’ + </p> + <p> + She looked something more womanly than when she had gone away, and the + ripening touch of the Italian sun was visible upon her face. But, + otherwise, she was quite unchanged. The same deep, timid earnestness that + he had always seen in her, and never without emotion, he saw still. If it + had a new meaning that smote him to the heart, the change was in his + perception, not in her. + </p> + <p> + She took off her old bonnet, hung it in the old place, and noiselessly + began, with Maggy’s help, to make his room as fresh and neat as it could + be made, and to sprinkle it with a pleasant-smelling water. When that was + done, the basket, which was filled with grapes and other fruit, was + unpacked, and all its contents were quietly put away. When that was done, + a moment’s whisper despatched Maggy to despatch somebody else to fill the + basket again; which soon came back replenished with new stores, from which + a present provision of cooling drink and jelly, and a prospective supply + of roast chicken and wine and water, were the first extracts. These + various arrangements completed, she took out her old needle-case to make + him a curtain for his window; and thus, with a quiet reigning in the room, + that seemed to diffuse itself through the else noisy prison, he found + himself composed in his chair, with Little Dorrit working at his side. + </p> + <p> + To see the modest head again bent down over its task, and the nimble + fingers busy at their old work—though she was not so absorbed in it, + but that her compassionate eyes were often raised to his face, and, when + they drooped again had tears in them—to be so consoled and + comforted, and to believe that all the devotion of this great nature was + turned to him in his adversity to pour out its inexhaustible wealth of + goodness upon him, did not steady Clennam’s trembling voice or hand, or + strengthen him in his weakness. Yet it inspired him with an inward + fortitude, that rose with his love. And how dearly he loved her now, what + words can tell! + </p> + <p> + As they sat side by side in the shadow of the wall, the shadow fell like + light upon him. She would not let him speak much, and he lay back in his + chair, looking at her. Now and again she would rise and give him the glass + that he might drink, or would smooth the resting-place of his head; then + she would gently resume her seat by him, and bend over her work again. + </p> + <p> + The shadow moved with the sun, but she never moved from his side, except + to wait upon him. The sun went down and she was still there. She had done + her work now, and her hand, faltering on the arm of his chair since its + last tending of him, was hesitating there yet. He laid his hand upon it, + and it clasped him with a trembling supplication. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Mr Clennam, I must say something to you before I go. I have put it + off from hour to hour, but I must say it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I too, dear Little Dorrit. I have put off what I must say.’ + </p> + <p> + She nervously moved her hand towards his lips as if to stop him; then it + dropped, trembling, into its former place. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am not going abroad again. My brother is, but I am not. He was always + attached to me, and he is so grateful to me now—so much too + grateful, for it is only because I happened to be with him in his illness—that + he says I shall be free to stay where I like best, and to do what I like + best. He only wishes me to be happy, he says.’ + </p> + <p> + There was one bright star shining in the sky. She looked up at it while + she spoke, as if it were the fervent purpose of her own heart shining + above her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will understand, I dare say, without my telling you, that my brother + has come home to find my dear father’s will, and to take possession of his + property. He says, if there is a will, he is sure I shall be left rich; + and if there is none, that he will make me so.’ + </p> + <p> + He would have spoken; but she put up her trembling hand again, and he + stopped. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have no use for money, I have no wish for it. It would be of no value + at all to me but for your sake. I could not be rich, and you here. I must + always be much worse than poor, with you distressed. Will you let me lend + you all I have? Will you let me give it you? Will you let me show you that + I have never forgotten, that I never can forget, your protection of me + when this was my home? Dear Mr Clennam, make me of all the world the + happiest, by saying Yes? Make me as happy as I can be in leaving you here, + by saying nothing to-night, and letting me go away with the hope that you + will think of it kindly; and that for my sake—not for yours, for + mine, for nobody’s but mine!—you will give me the greatest joy I can + experience on earth, the joy of knowing that I have been serviceable to + you, and that I have paid some little of the great debt of my affection + and gratitude. I can’t say what I wish to say. I can’t visit you here + where I have lived so long, I can’t think of you here where I have seen so + much, and be as calm and comforting as I ought. My tears will make their + way. I cannot keep them back. But pray, pray, pray, do not turn from your + Little Dorrit, now, in your affliction! Pray, pray, pray, I beg you and + implore you with all my grieving heart, my friend—my dear!—take + all I have, and make it a Blessing to me!’ + </p> + <p> + The star had shone on her face until now, when her face sank upon his hand + and her own. + </p> + <p> + It had grown darker when he raised her in his encircling arm, and softly + answered her. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, darling Little Dorrit. No, my child. I must not hear of such a + sacrifice. Liberty and hope would be so dear, bought at such a price, that + I could never support their weight, never bear the reproach of possessing + them. But with what ardent thankfulness and love I say this, I may call + Heaven to witness!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And yet you will not let me be faithful to you in your affliction?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say, dearest Little Dorrit, and yet I will try to be faithful to you. If, + in the bygone days when this was your home and when this was your dress, I + had understood myself (I speak only of myself) better, and had read the + secrets of my own breast more distinctly; if, through my reserve and + self-mistrust, I had discerned a light that I see brightly now when it has + passed far away, and my weak footsteps can never overtake it; if I had + then known, and told you that I loved and honoured you, not as the poor + child I used to call you, but as a woman whose true hand would raise me + high above myself and make me a far happier and better man; if I had so + used the opportunity there is no recalling—as I wish I had, O I wish + I had!—and if something had kept us apart then, when I was + moderately thriving, and when you were poor; I might have met your noble + offer of your fortune, dearest girl, with other words than these, and + still have blushed to touch it. But, as it is, I must never touch it, + never!’ + </p> + <p> + She besought him, more pathetically and earnestly, with her little + supplicatory hand, than she could have done in any words. + </p> + <p> + ‘I am disgraced enough, my Little Dorrit. I must not descend so low as + that, and carry you—so dear, so generous, so good—down with + me. GOD bless you, GOD reward you! It is past.’ + </p> + <p> + He took her in his arms, as if she had been his daughter. + </p> + <p> + ‘Always so much older, so much rougher, and so much less worthy, even what + I was must be dismissed by both of us, and you must see me only as I am. I + put this parting kiss upon your cheek, my child—who might have been + more near to me, who never could have been more dear—a ruined man + far removed from you, for ever separated from you, whose course is run + while yours is but beginning. I have not the courage to ask to be + forgotten by you in my humiliation; but I ask to be remembered only as I + am.’ + </p> + <p> + The bell began to ring, warning visitors to depart. He took her mantle + from the wall, and tenderly wrapped it round her. + </p> + <p> + ‘One other word, my Little Dorrit. A hard one to me, but it is a necessary + one. The time when you and this prison had anything in common has long + gone by. Do you understand?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O! you will never say to me,’ she cried, weeping bitterly, and holding up + her clasped hands in entreaty, ‘that I am not to come back any more! You + will surely not desert me so!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I would say it, if I could; but I have not the courage quite to shut out + this dear face, and abandon all hope of its return. But do not come soon, + do not come often! This is now a tainted place, and I well know the taint + of it clings to me. You belong to much brighter and better scenes. You are + not to look back here, my Little Dorrit; you are to look away to very + different and much happier paths. Again, GOD bless you in them! GOD reward + you!’ + </p> + <p> + Maggy, who had fallen into very low spirits, here cried, ‘Oh get him into + a hospital; do get him into a hospital, Mother! He’ll never look like + hisself again, if he an’t got into a hospital. And then the little woman + as was always a spinning at her wheel, she can go to the cupboard with the + Princess, and say, what do you keep the Chicking there for? and then they + can take it out and give it to him, and then all be happy!’ + </p> + <p> + The interruption was seasonable, for the bell had nearly rung itself out. + Again tenderly wrapping her mantle about her, and taking her on his arm + (though, but for her visit, he was almost too weak to walk), Arthur led + Little Dorrit down-stairs. She was the last visitor to pass out at the + Lodge, and the gate jarred heavily and hopelessly upon her. + </p> + <p> + With the funeral clang that it sounded into Arthur’s heart, his sense of + weakness returned. It was a toilsome journey up-stairs to his room, and he + re-entered its dark solitary precincts in unutterable misery. + </p> + <p> + When it was almost midnight, and the prison had long been quiet, a + cautious creak came up the stairs, and a cautious tap of a key was given + at his door. It was Young John. He glided in, in his stockings, and held + the door closed, while he spoke in a whisper. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s against all rules, but I don’t mind. I was determined to come + through, and come to you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What is the matter?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing’s the matter, sir. I was waiting in the court-yard for Miss + Dorrit when she came out. I thought you’d like some one to see that she + was safe.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, thank you! You took her home, John?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I saw her to her hotel. The same that Mr Dorrit was at. Miss Dorrit + walked all the way, and talked to me so kind, it quite knocked me over. + Why do you think she walked instead of riding?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know, John.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘To talk about you. She said to me, “John, you was always honourable, and + if you’ll promise me that you will take care of him, and never let him + want for help and comfort when I am not there, my mind will be at rest so + far.” I promised her. And I’ll stand by you,’ said John Chivery, ‘for + ever!’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam, much affected, stretched out his hand to this honest spirit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Before I take it,’ said John, looking at it, without coming from the + door, ‘guess what message Miss Dorrit gave me.’ + </p> + <p> + Clennam shook his head. + </p> + <p> + ‘“Tell him,”’ repeated John, in a distinct, though quavering voice, ‘“that + his Little Dorrit sent him her undying love.” Now it’s delivered. Have I + been honourable, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very, very!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Will you tell Miss Dorrit I’ve been honourable, sir?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will indeed.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There’s my hand, sir,’ said John, ‘and I’ll stand by you forever!’ + </p> + <p> + After a hearty squeeze, he disappeared with the same cautious creak upon + the stair, crept shoeless over the pavement of the yard, and, locking the + gates behind him, passed out into the front where he had left his shoes. + If the same way had been paved with burning ploughshares, it is not at all + improbable that John would have traversed it with the same devotion, for + the same purpose. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0066"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 30. Closing in + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he last day of the appointed week touched the bars of the Marshalsea + gate. Black, all night, since the gate had clashed upon Little Dorrit, its + iron stripes were turned by the early-glowing sun into stripes of gold. + Far aslant across the city, over its jumbled roofs, and through the open + tracery of its church towers, struck the long bright rays, bars of the + prison of this lower world. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the day the old house within the gateway remained untroubled by + any visitors. But, when the sun was low, three men turned in at the + gateway and made for the dilapidated house. + </p> + <p> + Rigaud was the first, and walked by himself smoking. Mr Baptist was the + second, and jogged close after him, looking at no other object. Mr Pancks + was the third, and carried his hat under his arm for the liberation of his + restive hair; the weather being extremely hot. They all came together at + the door-steps. + </p> + <p> + ‘You pair of madmen!’ said Rigaud, facing about. ‘Don’t go yet!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘We don’t mean to,’ said Mr Pancks. + </p> + <p> + Giving him a dark glance in acknowledgment of his answer, Rigaud knocked + loudly. He had charged himself with drink, for the playing out of his + game, and was impatient to begin. He had hardly finished one long + resounding knock, when he turned to the knocker again and began another. + That was not yet finished when Jeremiah Flintwinch opened the door, and + they all clanked into the stone hall. Rigaud, thrusting Mr Flintwinch + aside, proceeded straight up-stairs. His two attendants followed him, Mr + Flintwinch followed them, and they all came trooping into Mrs Clennam’s + quiet room. It was in its usual state; except that one of the windows was + wide open, and Affery sat on its old-fashioned window-seat, mending a + stocking. The usual articles were on the little table; the usual deadened + fire was in the grate; the bed had its usual pall upon it; and the + mistress of all sat on her black bier-like sofa, propped up by her black + angular bolster that was like the headsman’s block. + </p> + <p> + Yet there was a nameless air of preparation in the room, as if it were + strung up for an occasion. From what the room derived it—every one + of its small variety of objects being in the fixed spot it had occupied + for years—no one could have said without looking attentively at its + mistress, and that, too, with a previous knowledge of her face. Although + her unchanging black dress was in every plait precisely as of old, and her + unchanging attitude was rigidly preserved, a very slight additional + setting of her features and contraction of her gloomy forehead was so + powerfully marked, that it marked everything about her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who are these?’ she said, wonderingly, as the two attendants entered. + ‘What do these people want here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Who are these, dear madame, is it?’ returned Rigaud. ‘Faith, they are + friends of your son the prisoner. And what do they want here, is it? + Death, madame, I don’t know. You will do well to ask them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You know you told us at the door, not to go yet,’ said Pancks. + </p> + <p> + ‘And you know you told me at the door, you didn’t mean to go,’ retorted + Rigaud. ‘In a word, madame, permit me to present two spies of the + prisoner’s—madmen, but spies. If you wish them to remain here during + our little conversation, say the word. It is nothing to me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why should I wish them to remain here?’ said Mrs Clennam. ‘What have I to + do with them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then, dearest madame,’ said Rigaud, throwing himself into an arm-chair so + heavily that the old room trembled, ‘you will do well to dismiss them. It + is your affair. They are not my spies, not my rascals.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hark! You Pancks,’ said Mrs Clennam, bending her brows upon him angrily, + ‘you Casby’s clerk! Attend to your employer’s business and your own. Go. + And take that other man with you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ returned Mr Pancks, ‘I am glad to say I see no + objection to our both retiring. We have done all we undertook to do for Mr + Clennam. His constant anxiety has been (and it grew worse upon him when he + became a prisoner), that this agreeable gentleman should be brought back + here to the place from which he slipped away. Here he is—brought + back. And I will say,’ added Mr Pancks, ‘to his ill-looking face, that in + my opinion the world would be no worse for his slipping out of it + altogether.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Your opinion is not asked,’ answered Mrs Clennam. ‘Go.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sorry not to leave you in better company, ma’am,’ said Pancks; ‘and + sorry, too, that Mr Clennam can’t be present. It’s my fault, that is.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You mean his own,’ she returned. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I mean mine, ma’am,’ said Pancks, ‘for it was my misfortune to lead + him into a ruinous investment.’ (Mr Pancks still clung to that word, and + never said speculation.) ‘Though I can prove by figures,’ added Mr Pancks, + with an anxious countenance, ‘that it ought to have been a good + investment. I have gone over it since it failed, every day of my life, and + it comes out—regarded as a question of figures—triumphant. The + present is not a time or place,’ Mr Pancks pursued, with a longing glance + into his hat, where he kept his calculations, ‘for entering upon the + figures; but the figures are not to be disputed. Mr Clennam ought to have + been at this moment in his carriage and pair, and I ought to have been + worth from three to five thousand pound.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks put his hair erect with a general aspect of confidence that + could hardly have been surpassed, if he had had the amount in his pocket. + These incontrovertible figures had been the occupation of every moment of + his leisure since he had lost his money, and were destined to afford him + consolation to the end of his days. + </p> + <p> + ‘However,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘enough of that. Altro, old boy, you have seen + the figures, and you know how they come out.’ Mr Baptist, who had not the + slightest arithmetical power of compensating himself in this way, nodded, + with a fine display of bright teeth. + </p> + <p> + At whom Mr Flintwinch had been looking, and to whom he then said: + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! it’s you, is it? I thought I remembered your face, but I wasn’t + certain till I saw your teeth. Ah! yes, to be sure. It was this officious + refugee,’ said Jeremiah to Mrs Clennam, ‘who came knocking at the door on + the night when Arthur and Chatterbox were here, and who asked me a whole + Catechism of questions about Mr Blandois.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is true,’ Mr Baptist cheerfully admitted. ‘And behold him, padrone! I + have found him consequentementally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shouldn’t have objected,’ returned Mr Flintwinch, ‘to your having + broken your neck consequentementally.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And now,’ said Mr Pancks, whose eye had often stealthily wandered to the + window-seat and the stocking that was being mended there, ‘I’ve only one + other word to say before I go. If Mr Clennam was here—but + unfortunately, though he has so far got the better of this fine gentleman + as to return him to this place against his will, he is ill and in prison—ill + and in prison, poor fellow—if he was here,’ said Mr Pancks, taking + one step aside towards the window-seat, and laying his right hand upon the + stocking; ‘he would say, “Affery, tell your dreams!”’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks held up his right forefinger between his nose and the stocking + with a ghostly air of warning, turned, steamed out and towed Mr Baptist + after him. The house-door was heard to close upon them, their steps were + heard passing over the dull pavement of the echoing court-yard, and still + nobody had added a word. Mrs Clennam and Jeremiah had exchanged a look; + and had then looked, and looked still, at Affery, who sat mending the + stocking with great assiduity. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come!’ said Mr Flintwinch at length, screwing himself a curve or two in + the direction of the window-seat, and rubbing the palms of his hands on + his coat-tail as if he were preparing them to do something: ‘Whatever has + to be said among us had better be begun to be said without more loss of + time.—So, Affery, my woman, take yourself away!’ + </p> + <p> + In a moment Affery had thrown the stocking down, started up, caught hold + of the windowsill with her right hand, lodged herself upon the window-seat + with her right knee, and was flourishing her left hand, beating expected + assailants off. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, I won’t, Jeremiah—no, I won’t—no, I won’t! I won’t go! + I’ll stay here. I’ll hear all I don’t know, and say all I know. I will, at + last, if I die for it. I will, I will, I will, I will!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, stiffening with indignation and amazement, moistened the + fingers of one hand at his lips, softly described a circle with them in + the palm of the other hand, and continued with a menacing grin to screw + himself in the direction of his wife; gasping some remark as he advanced, + of which, in his choking anger, only the words, ‘Such a dose!’ were + audible. + </p> + <p> + ‘Not a bit nearer, Jeremiah!’ cried Affery, never ceasing to beat the air. + ‘Don’t come a bit nearer to me, or I’ll rouse the neighbourhood! I’ll + throw myself out of window. I’ll scream Fire and Murder! I’ll wake the + dead! Stop where you are, or I’ll make shrieks enough to wake the dead!’ + </p> + <p> + The determined voice of Mrs Clennam echoed ‘Stop!’ Jeremiah had stopped + already. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is closing in, Flintwinch. Let her alone. Affery, do you turn against + me after these many years?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do, if it’s turning against you to hear what I don’t know, and say what + I know. I have broke out now, and I can’t go back. I am determined to do + it. I will do it, I will, I will, I will! If that’s turning against you, + yes, I turn against both of you two clever ones. I told Arthur when he + first come home to stand up against you. I told him it was no reason, + because I was afeard of my life of you, that he should be. All manner of + things have been a-going on since then, and I won’t be run up by Jeremiah, + nor yet I won’t be dazed and scared, nor made a party to I don’t know + what, no more. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t! I’ll up for Arthur when he has + nothing left, and is ill, and in prison, and can’t up for himself. I will, + I will, I will, I will!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How do you know, you heap of confusion,’ asked Mrs Clennam sternly, ‘that + in doing what you are doing now, you are even serving Arthur?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t know nothing rightly about anything,’ said Affery; ‘and if ever + you said a true word in your life, it’s when you call me a heap of + confusion, for you two clever ones have done your most to make me such. + You married me whether I liked it or not, and you’ve led me, pretty well + ever since, such a life of dreaming and frightening as never was known, + and what do you expect me to be but a heap of confusion? You wanted to + make me such, and I am such; but I won’t submit no longer; no, I won’t, I + won’t, I won’t, I won’t!’ She was still beating the air against all + comers. + </p> + <p> + After gazing at her in silence, Mrs Clennam turned to Rigaud. ‘You see and + hear this foolish creature. Do you object to such a piece of distraction + remaining where she is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I, madame,’ he replied, ‘do I? That’s a question for you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not,’ she said, gloomily. ‘There is little left to choose now. + Flintwinch, it is closing in.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch replied by directing a look of red vengeance at his wife, + and then, as if to pinion himself from falling upon her, screwed his + crossed arms into the breast of his waistcoat, and with his chin very near + one of his elbows stood in a corner, watching Rigaud in the oddest + attitude. Rigaud, for his part, arose from his chair, and seated himself + on the table with his legs dangling. In this easy attitude, he met Mrs + Clennam’s set face, with his moustache going up and his nose coming down. + </p> + <p> + ‘Madame, I am a gentleman—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Of whom,’ she interrupted in her steady tones, ‘I have heard + disparagement, in connection with a French jail and an accusation of + murder.’ + </p> + <p> + He kissed his hand to her with his exaggerated gallantry. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perfectly. Exactly. Of a lady too! What absurdity! How incredible! I had + the honour of making a great success then; I hope to have the honour of + making a great success now. I kiss your hands. Madame, I am a gentleman (I + was going to observe), who when he says, “I will definitely finish this or + that affair at the present sitting,” does definitely finish it. I announce + to you that we are arrived at our last sitting on our little business. You + do me the favour to follow, and to comprehend?’ + </p> + <p> + She kept her eyes fixed upon him with a frown. ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Further, I am a gentleman to whom mere mercenary trade-bargains are + unknown, but to whom money is always acceptable as the means of pursuing + his pleasures. You do me the favour to follow, and to comprehend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Scarcely necessary to ask, one would say. Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Further, I am a gentleman of the softest and sweetest disposition, but + who, if trifled with, becomes enraged. Noble natures under such + circumstances become enraged. I possess a noble nature. When the lion is + awakened—that is to say, when I enrage—the satisfaction of my + animosity is as acceptable to me as money. You always do me the favour to + follow, and to comprehend?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes,’ she answered, somewhat louder than before. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do not let me derange you; pray be tranquil. I have said we are now + arrived at our last sitting. Allow me to recall the two sittings we have + held.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is not necessary.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Death, madame,’ he burst out, ‘it’s my fancy! Besides, it clears the way. + The first sitting was limited. I had the honour of making your + acquaintance—of presenting my letter; I am a Knight of Industry, at + your service, madame, but my polished manners had won me so much of + success, as a master of languages, among your compatriots who are as stiff + as their own starch is to one another, but are ready to relax to a foreign + gentleman of polished manners—and of observing one or two little + things,’ he glanced around the room and smiled, ‘about this honourable + house, to know which was necessary to assure me, and to convince me that I + had the distinguished pleasure of making the acquaintance of the lady I + sought. I achieved this. I gave my word of honour to our dear Flintwinch + that I would return. I gracefully departed.’ + </p> + <p> + Her face neither acquiesced nor demurred. The same when he paused, and + when he spoke, it as yet showed him always the one attentive frown, and + the dark revelation before mentioned of her being nerved for the occasion. + </p> + <p> + ‘I say, gracefully departed, because it was graceful to retire without + alarming a lady. To be morally graceful, not less than physically, is a + part of the character of Rigaud Blandois. It was also politic, as leaving + you with something overhanging you, to expect me again with a little + anxiety on a day not named. But your slave is politic. By Heaven, madame, + politic! Let us return. On the day not named, I have again the honour to + render myself at your house. I intimate that I have something to sell, + which, if not bought, will compromise madame whom I highly esteem. I + explain myself generally. I demand—I think it was a thousand pounds. + Will you correct me?’ + </p> + <p> + Thus forced to speak, she replied with constraint, ‘You demanded as much + as a thousand pounds.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I demand at present, Two. Such are the evils of delay. But to return once + more. We are not accordant; we differ on that occasion. I am playful; + playfulness is a part of my amiable character. Playfully, I become as one + slain and hidden. For, it may alone be worth half the sum to madame, to be + freed from the suspicions that my droll idea awakens. Accident and spies + intermix themselves against my playfulness, and spoil the fruit, perhaps—who + knows? only you and Flintwinch—when it is just ripe. Thus, madame, I + am here for the last time. Listen! Definitely the last.’ + </p> + <p> + As he struck his straggling boot-heels against the flap of the table, + meeting her frown with an insolent gaze, he began to change his tone for a + fierce one. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bah! Stop an instant! Let us advance by steps. Here is my Hotel-note to + be paid, according to contract. Five minutes hence we may be at daggers’ + points. I’ll not leave it till then, or you’ll cheat me. Pay it! Count me + the money!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Take it from his hand and pay it, Flintwinch,’ said Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + He spirted it into Mr Flintwinch’s face when the old man advanced to take + it, and held forth his hand, repeating noisily, ‘Pay it! Count it out! + Good money!’ Jeremiah picked the bill up, looked at the total with a + bloodshot eye, took a small canvas bag from his pocket, and told the + amount into his hand. + </p> + <p> + Rigaud chinked the money, weighed it in his hand, threw it up a little way + and caught it, chinked it again. + </p> + <p> + ‘The sound of it, to the bold Rigaud Blandois, is like the taste of fresh + meat to the tiger. Say, then, madame. How much?’ + </p> + <p> + He turned upon her suddenly with a menacing gesture of the weighted hand + that clenched the money, as if he were going to strike her with it. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you again, as I told you before, that we are not rich here, as you + suppose us to be, and that your demand is excessive. I have not the + present means of complying with such a demand, if I had ever so great an + inclination.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If!’ cried Rigaud. ‘Hear this lady with her If! Will you say that you + have not the inclination?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will say what presents itself to me, and not what presents itself to + you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Say it then. As to the inclination. Quick! Come to the inclination, and I + know what to do.’ + </p> + <p> + She was no quicker, and no slower, in her reply. ‘It would seem that you + have obtained possession of a paper—or of papers—which I + assuredly have the inclination to recover.’ + </p> + <p> + Rigaud, with a loud laugh, drummed his heels against the table, and + chinked his money. ‘I think so! I believe you there!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The paper might be worth, to me, a sum of money. I cannot say how much, + or how little.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What the Devil!’ he asked savagely. ‘Not after a week’s grace to + consider?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No! I will not out of my scanty means—for I tell you again, we are + poor here, and not rich—I will not offer any price for a power that + I do not know the worst and the fullest extent of. This is the third time + of your hinting and threatening. You must speak explicitly, or you may go + where you will, and do what you will. It is better to be torn to pieces at + a spring, than to be a mouse at the caprice of such a cat.’ + </p> + <p> + He looked at her so hard with those eyes too near together that the + sinister sight of each, crossing that of the other, seemed to make the + bridge of his hooked nose crooked. After a long survey, he said, with the + further setting off of his internal smile: + </p> + <p> + ‘You are a bold woman!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am a resolved woman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You always were. What? She always was; is it not so, my little + Flintwinch?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Flintwinch, say nothing to him. It is for him to say, here and now, all + he can; or to go hence, and do all he can. You know this to be our + determination. Leave him to his action on it.’ + </p> + <p> + She did not shrink under his evil leer, or avoid it. He turned it upon her + again, but she remained steady at the point to which she had fixed + herself. He got off the table, placed a chair near the sofa, sat down in + it, and leaned an arm upon the sofa close to her own, which he touched + with his hand. Her face was ever frowning, attentive, and settled. + </p> + <p> + ‘It is your pleasure then, madame, that I shall relate a morsel of family + history in this little family society,’ said Rigaud, with a warning play + of his lithe fingers on her arm. ‘I am something of a doctor. Let me touch + your pulse.’ + </p> + <p> + She suffered him to take her wrist in his hand. Holding it, he proceeded + to say: + </p> + <p> + ‘A history of a strange marriage, and a strange mother, and a revenge, and + a suppression.—Aye, aye, aye? this pulse is beating curiously! It + appears to me that it doubles while I touch it. Are these the usual + changes of your malady, madame?’ + </p> + <p> + There was a struggle in her maimed arm as she twisted it away, but there + was none in her face. On his face there was his own smile. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have lived an adventurous life. I am an adventurous character. I have + known many adventurers; interesting spirits—amiable society! To one + of them I owe my knowledge and my proofs—I repeat it, estimable lady—proofs—of + the ravishing little family history I go to commence. You will be charmed + with it. But, bah! I forget. One should name a history. Shall I name it + the history of a house? But, bah, again. There are so many houses. Shall I + name it the history of this house?’ + </p> + <p> + Leaning over the sofa, poised on two legs of his chair and his left elbow; + that hand often tapping her arm to beat his words home; his legs crossed; + his right hand sometimes arranging his hair, sometimes smoothing his + moustache, sometimes striking his nose, always threatening her whatever it + did; coarse, insolent, rapacious, cruel, and powerful, he pursued his + narrative at his ease. + </p> + <p> + ‘In fine, then, I name it the history of this house. I commence it. There + live here, let us suppose, an uncle and nephew. The uncle, a rigid old + gentleman of strong force of character; the nephew, habitually timid, + repressed, and under constraint.’ + </p> + <p> + Mistress Affery, fixedly attentive in the window-seat, biting the rolled + up end of her apron, and trembling from head to foot, here cried + out, ‘Jeremiah, keep off from me! I’ve heerd, in my dreams, of Arthur’s + father and his uncle. He’s a talking of them. It was before my time here; + but I’ve heerd in my dreams that Arthur’s father was a poor, irresolute, + frightened chap, who had had everything but his orphan life scared out of + him when he was young, and that he had no voice in the choice of his wife + even, but his uncle chose her. There she sits! I heerd it in my dreams, + and you said it to her own self.’ + </p> + <p> + As Mr Flintwinch shook his fist at her, and as Mrs Clennam gazed upon her, + Rigaud kissed his hand to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Perfectly right, dear Madame Flintwinch. You have a genius for dreaming.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t want none of your praises,’ returned Affery. ‘I don’t want to + have nothing at all to say to you. But Jeremiah said they was dreams, and + I’ll tell ‘em as such!’ Here she put her apron in her mouth again, as if + she were stopping somebody else’s mouth—perhaps Jeremiah’s, which + was chattering with threats as if he were grimly cold. + </p> + <p> + ‘Our beloved Madame Flintwinch,’ said Rigaud, ‘developing all of a sudden + a fine susceptibility and spirituality, is right to a marvel. Yes. So runs + the history. Monsieur, the uncle, commands the nephew to marry. Monsieur + says to him in effect, “My nephew, I introduce to you a lady of strong + force of character, like myself—a resolved lady, a stern lady, a + lady who has a will that can break the weak to powder: a lady without + pity, without love, implacable, revengeful, cold as the stone, but raging + as the fire.” Ah! what fortitude! Ah, what superiority of intellectual + strength! Truly, a proud and noble character that I describe in the + supposed words of Monsieur, the uncle. Ha, ha, ha! Death of my soul, I + love the sweet lady!’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam’s face had changed. There was a remarkable darkness of colour + on it, and the brow was more contracted. ‘Madame, madame,’ said Rigaud, + tapping her on the arm, as if his cruel hand were sounding a musical + instrument, ‘I perceive I interest you. I perceive I awaken your sympathy. + Let us go on.’ + </p> + <p> + The drooping nose and the ascending moustache had, however, to be hidden + for a moment with the white hand, before he could go on; he enjoyed the + effect he made so much. + </p> + <p> + ‘The nephew, being, as the lucid Madame Flintwinch has remarked, a poor + devil who has had everything but his orphan life frightened and famished + out of him—the nephew abases his head, and makes response: “My + uncle, it is to you to command. Do as you will!” Monsieur, the uncle, does + as he will. It is what he always does. The auspicious nuptials take place; + the newly married come home to this charming mansion; the lady is + received, let us suppose, by Flintwinch. Hey, old intriguer?’ + </p> + <p> + Jeremiah, with his eyes upon his mistress, made no reply. Rigaud looked + from one to the other, struck his ugly nose, and made a clucking with his + tongue. + </p> + <p> + ‘Soon the lady makes a singular and exciting discovery. Thereupon, full of + anger, full of jealousy, full of vengeance, she forms—see you, + madame!—a scheme of retribution, the weight of which she ingeniously + forces her crushed husband to bear himself, as well as execute upon her + enemy. What superior intelligence!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Keep off, Jeremiah!’ cried the palpitating Affery, taking her apron from + her mouth again. ‘But it was one of my dreams, that you told her, when you + quarrelled with her one winter evening at dusk—there she sits and + you looking at her—that she oughtn’t to have let Arthur when he come + home, suspect his father only; that she had always had the strength and + the power; and that she ought to have stood up more to Arthur, for his + father. It was in the same dream where you said to her that she was not—not + something, but I don’t know what, for she burst out tremendous and stopped + you. You know the dream as well as I do. When you come down-stairs into + the kitchen with the candle in your hand, and hitched my apron off my + head. When you told me I had been dreaming. When you wouldn’t believe the + noises.’ After this explosion Affery put her apron into her mouth again; + always keeping her hand on the window-sill and her knee on the + window-seat, ready to cry out or jump out if her lord and master + approached. + </p> + <p> + Rigaud had not lost a word of this. + </p> + <p> + ‘Haha!’ he cried, lifting his eyebrows, folding his arms, and leaning back + in his chair. ‘Assuredly, Madame Flintwinch is an oracle! How shall we + interpret the oracle, you and I and the old intriguer? He said that you + were not—? And you burst out and stopped him! What was it you were + not? What is it you are not? Say then, madame!’ + </p> + <p> + Under this ferocious banter, she sat breathing harder, and her mouth was + disturbed. Her lips quivered and opened, in spite of her utmost efforts to + keep them still. + </p> + <p> + ‘Come then, madame! Speak, then! Our old intriguer said that you were not—and + you stopped him. He was going to say that you were not—what? I know + already, but I want a little confidence from you. How, then? You are not + what?’ + </p> + <p> + She tried again to repress herself, but broke out vehemently, ‘Not + Arthur’s mother!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good,’ said Rigaud. ‘You are amenable.’ + </p> + <p> + With the set expression of her face all torn away by the explosion of her + passion, and with a bursting, from every rent feature, of the smouldering + fire so long pent up, she cried out: ‘I will tell it myself! I will not + hear it from your lips, and with the taint of your wickedness upon it. + Since it must be seen, I will have it seen by the light I stood in. Not + another word. Hear me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Unless you are a more obstinate and more persisting woman than even I + know you to be,’ Mr Flintwinch interposed, ‘you had better leave Mr + Rigaud, Mr Blandois, Mr Beelzebub, to tell it in his own way. What does it + signify when he knows all about it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He does not know all about it.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He knows all he cares about it,’ Mr Flintwinch testily urged. + </p> + <p> + ‘He does not know <i>me</i>.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you suppose he cares for you, you conceited woman?’ said Mr + Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + ‘I tell you, Flintwinch, I will speak. I tell you when it has come to + this, I will tell it with my own lips, and will express myself throughout + it. What! Have I suffered nothing in this room, no deprivation, no + imprisonment, that I should condescend at last to contemplate myself in + such a glass as <i>that</i>. Can you see him? Can you hear him? If your + wife were a hundred times the ingrate that she is, and if I were a + thousand times more hopeless than I am of inducing her to be silent if + this man is silenced, I would tell it myself, before I would bear the + torment of the hearing it from him.’ + </p> + <p> + Rigaud pushed his chair a little back; pushed his legs out straight before + him; and sat with his arms folded over against her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You do not know what it is,’ she went on addressing him, ‘to be brought + up strictly and straitly. I was so brought up. Mine was no light youth of + sinful gaiety and pleasure. Mine were days of wholesome repression, + punishment, and fear. The corruption of our hearts, the evil of our ways, + the curse that is upon us, the terrors that surround us—these were + the themes of my childhood. They formed my character, and filled me with + an abhorrence of evil-doers. When old Mr Gilbert Clennam proposed his + orphan nephew to my father for my husband, my father impressed upon me + that his bringing-up had been, like mine, one of severe restraint. He told + me, that besides the discipline his spirit had undergone, he had lived in + a starved house, where rioting and gaiety were unknown, and where every + day was a day of toil and trial like the last. He told me that he had been + a man in years long before his uncle had acknowledged him as one; and that + from his school-days to that hour, his uncle’s roof has been a sanctuary + to him from the contagion of the irreligious and dissolute. When, within a + twelvemonth of our marriage, I found my husband, at that time when my + father spoke of him, to have sinned against the Lord and outraged me by + holding a guilty creature in my place, was I to doubt that it had been + appointed to me to make the discovery, and that it was appointed to me to + lay the hand of punishment upon that creature of perdition? Was I to + dismiss in a moment—not my own wrongs—what was I! but all the + rejection of sin, and all the war against it, in which I had been bred?’ + </p> + <p> + She laid her wrathful hand upon the watch on the table. + </p> + <p> + ‘No! “Do not forget.” The initials of those words are within here now, and + were within here then. I was appointed to find the old letter that + referred to them, and that told me what they meant, and whose work they + were, and why they were worked, lying with this watch in his secret + drawer. But for that appointment there would have been no discovery. “Do + not forget.” It spoke to me like a voice from an angry cloud. Do not + forget the deadly sin, do not forget the appointed discovery, do not + forget the appointed suffering. I did not forget. Was it my own wrong I + remembered? Mine! I was but a servant and a minister. What power could I + have over them, but that they were bound in the bonds of their sin, and + delivered to me!’ + </p> + <p> + More than forty years had passed over the grey head of this determined + woman, since the time she recalled. More than forty years of strife and + struggle with the whisper that, by whatever name she called her vindictive + pride and rage, nothing through all eternity could change their nature. + Yet, gone those more than forty years, and come this Nemesis now looking + her in the face, she still abided by her old impiety—still reversed + the order of Creation, and breathed her own breath into a clay image of + her Creator. Verily, verily, travellers have seen many monstrous idols in + many countries; but no human eyes have ever seen more daring, gross, and + shocking images of the Divine nature than we creatures of the dust make in + our own likenesses, of our own bad passions. + </p> + <p> + ‘When I forced him to give her up to me, by her name and place of abode,’ + she went on in her torrent of indignation and defence; ‘when I accused + her, and she fell hiding her face at my feet, was it my injury that I + asserted, were they my reproaches that I poured upon her? Those who were + appointed of old to go to wicked kings and accuse them—were they not + ministers and servants? And had not I, unworthy and far-removed from them, + sin to denounce? When she pleaded to me her youth, and his wretched and + hard life (that was her phrase for the virtuous training he had belied), + and the desecrated ceremony of marriage there had secretly been between + them, and the terrors of want and shame that had overwhelmed them both + when I was first appointed to be the instrument of their punishment, and + the love (for she said the word to me, down at my feet) in which she had + abandoned him and left him to me, was it <i>my</i> enemy that became my + footstool, were they the words of my wrath that made her shrink and + quiver! Not unto me the strength be ascribed; not unto me the wringing of + the expiation!’ + </p> + <p> + Many years had come and gone since she had had the free use even of her + fingers; but it was noticeable that she had already more than once struck + her clenched hand vigorously upon the table, and that when she said these + words she raised her whole arm in the air, as though it had been a common + action with her. + </p> + <p> + ‘And what was the repentance that was extorted from the hardness of her + heart and the blackness of her depravity? I, vindictive and implacable? It + may be so, to such as you who know no righteousness, and no appointment + except Satan’s. Laugh; but I will be known as I know myself, and as + Flintwinch knows me, though it is only to you and this half-witted woman.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Add, to yourself, madame,’ said Rigaud. ‘I have my little suspicions that + madame is rather solicitous to be justified to herself.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is false. It is not so. I have no need to be,’ she said, with great + energy and anger. + </p> + <p> + ‘Truly?’ retorted Rigaud. ‘Hah!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I ask, what was the penitence, in works, that was demanded of her? “You + have a child; I have none. You love that child. Give him to me. He shall + believe himself to be my son, and he shall be believed by every one to be + my son. To save you from exposure, his father shall swear never to see or + communicate with you more; equally to save him from being stripped by his + uncle, and to save your child from being a beggar, you shall swear never + to see or communicate with either of them more. That done, and your + present means, derived from my husband, renounced, I charge myself with + your support. You may, with your place of retreat unknown, then leave, if + you please, uncontradicted by me, the lie that when you passed out of all + knowledge but mine, you merited a good name.” That was all. She had to + sacrifice her sinful and shameful affections; no more. She was then free + to bear her load of guilt in secret, and to break her heart in secret; and + through such present misery (light enough for her, I think!) to purchase + her redemption from endless misery, if she could. If, in this, I punished + her here, did I not open to her a way hereafter? If she knew herself to be + surrounded by insatiable vengeance and unquenchable fires, were they mine? + If I threatened her, then and afterwards, with the terrors that + encompassed her, did I hold them in my right hand?’ + </p> + <p> + She turned the watch upon the table, and opened it, and, with an + unsoftening face, looked at the worked letters within. + </p> + <p> + ‘They did <i>not</i> forget. It is appointed against such offences that + the offenders shall not be able to forget. If the presence of Arthur was a + daily reproach to his father, and if the absence of Arthur was a daily + agony to his mother, that was the just dispensation of Jehovah. As well + might it be charged upon me, that the stings of an awakened conscience + drove her mad, and that it was the will of the Disposer of all things that + she should live so, many years. I devoted myself to reclaim the otherwise + predestined and lost boy; to give him the reputation of an honest origin; + to bring him up in fear and trembling, and in a life of practical + contrition for the sins that were heavy on his head before his entrance + into this condemned world. Was that a cruelty? Was I, too, not visited + with consequences of the original offence in which I had no complicity? + Arthur’s father and I lived no further apart, with half the globe between + us, than when we were together in this house. He died, and sent this watch + back to me, with its Do not forget. I do NOT forget, though I do not read + it as he did. I read in it, that I was appointed to do these things. I + have so read these three letters since I have had them lying on this + table, and I did so read them, with equal distinctness, when they were + thousands of miles away.’ + </p> + <p> + As she took the watch-case in her hand, with that new freedom in the use + of her hand of which she showed no consciousness whatever, bending her + eyes upon it as if she were defying it to move her, Rigaud cried with a + loud and contemptuous snapping of his fingers. ‘Come, madame! Time runs + out. Come, lady of piety, it must be! You can tell nothing I don’t know. + Come to the money stolen, or I will! Death of my soul, I have had enough + of your other jargon. Come straight to the stolen money!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Wretch that you are,’ she answered, and now her hands clasped her head: + ‘through what fatal error of Flintwinch’s, through what incompleteness on + his part, who was the only other person helping in these things and + trusted with them, through whose and what bringing together of the ashes + of a burnt paper, you have become possessed of that codicil, I know no + more than how you acquired the rest of your power here—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And yet,’ interrupted Rigaud, ‘it is my odd fortune to have by me, in a + convenient place that I know of, that same short little addition to the + will of Monsieur Gilbert Clennam, written by a lady and witnessed by the + same lady and our old intriguer! Ah, bah, old intriguer, crooked little + puppet! Madame, let us go on. Time presses. You or I to finish?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I!’ she answered, with increased determination, if it were possible. ‘I, + because I will not endure to be shown myself, and have myself shown to any + one, with your horrible distortion upon me. You, with your practices of + infamous foreign prisons and galleys would make it the money that impelled + me. It was not the money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Bah, bah, bah! I repudiate, for the moment, my politeness, and say, Lies, + lies, lies. You know you suppressed the deed and kept the money.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not for the money’s sake, wretch!’ She made a struggle as if she were + starting up; even as if, in her vehemence, she had almost risen on her + disabled feet. ‘If Gilbert Clennam, reduced to imbecility, at the point of + death, and labouring under the delusion of some imaginary relenting + towards a girl of whom he had heard that his nephew had once had a fancy + for her which he had crushed out of him, and that she afterwards drooped + away into melancholy and withdrawal from all who knew her—if, in + that state of weakness, he dictated to me, whose life she had darkened + with her sin, and who had been appointed to know her wickedness from her + own hand and her own lips, a bequest meant as a recompense to her for + supposed unmerited suffering; was there no difference between my spurning + that injustice, and coveting mere money—a thing which you, and your + comrades in the prisons, may steal from anyone?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Time presses, madame. Take care!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If this house was blazing from the roof to the ground,’ she returned, ‘I + would stay in it to justify myself against my righteous motives being + classed with those of stabbers and thieves.’ + </p> + <p> + Rigaud snapped his fingers tauntingly in her face. ‘One thousand guineas + to the little beauty you slowly hunted to death. One thousand guineas to + the youngest daughter her patron might have at fifty, or (if he had none) + brother’s youngest daughter, on her coming of age, “as the remembrance his + disinterestedness may like best, of his protection of a friendless young + orphan girl.” Two thousand guineas. What! You will never come to the + money?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That patron,’ she was vehemently proceeding, when he checked her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Names! Call him Mr Frederick Dorrit. No more evasions.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘That Frederick Dorrit was the beginning of it all. If he had not been a + player of music, and had not kept, in those days of his youth and + prosperity, an idle house where singers, and players, and such-like + children of Evil turned their backs on the Light and their faces to the + Darkness, she might have remained in her lowly station, and might not have + been raised out of it to be cast down. But, no. Satan entered into that + Frederick Dorrit, and counselled him that he was a man of innocent and + laudable tastes who did kind actions, and that here was a poor girl with a + voice for singing music with. Then he is to have her taught. Then Arthur’s + father, who has all along been secretly pining in the ways of virtuous + ruggedness for those accursed snares which are called the Arts, becomes + acquainted with her. And so, a graceless orphan, training to be a singing + girl, carries it, by that Frederick Dorrit’s agency, against me, and I am + humbled and deceived!—Not I, that is to say,’ she added quickly, as + colour flushed into her face; ‘a greater than I. What am I?’ + </p> + <p> + Jeremiah Flintwinch, who had been gradually screwing himself towards her, + and who was now very near her elbow without her knowing it, made a + specially wry face of objection when she said these words, and moreover + twitched his gaiters, as if such pretensions were equivalent to little + barbs in his legs. + </p> + <p> + ‘Lastly,’ she continued, ‘for I am at the end of these things, and I will + say no more of them, and you shall say no more of them, and all that + remains will be to determine whether the knowledge of them can be kept + among us who are here present; lastly, when I suppressed that paper, with + the knowledge of Arthur’s father—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But not with his consent, you know,’ said Mr Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + ‘Who said with his consent?’ She started to find Jeremiah so near her, and + drew back her head, looking at him with some rising distrust. ‘You were + often enough between us when he would have had me produce it and I would + not, to have contradicted me if I had said, with his consent. I say, when + I suppressed that paper, I made no effort to destroy it, but kept it by + me, here in this house, many years. The rest of the Gilbert property being + left to Arthur’s father, I could at any time, without unsettling more than + the two sums, have made a pretence of finding it. But, besides that I must + have supported such pretence by a direct falsehood (a great + responsibility), I have seen no new reason, in all the time I have been + tried here, to bring it to light. It was a rewarding of sin; the wrong + result of a delusion. I did what I was appointed to do, and I have + undergone, within these four walls, what I was appointed to undergo. When + the paper was at last destroyed—as I thought—in my presence, + she had long been dead, and her patron, Frederick Dorrit, had long been + deservedly ruined and imbecile. He had no daughter. I had found the niece + before then; and what I did for her, was better for her far than the money + of which she would have had no good.’ She added, after a moment, as though + she addressed the watch: ‘She herself was innocent, and I might not have + forgotten to relinquish it to her at my death:’ and sat looking at it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Shall I recall something to you, worthy madame?’ said Rigaud. ‘The little + paper was in this house on the night when our friend the prisoner—jail-comrade + of my soul—came home from foreign countries. Shall I recall yet + something more to you? The little singing-bird that never was fledged, was + long kept in a cage by a guardian of your appointing, well enough known to + our old intriguer here. Shall we coax our old intriguer to tell us when he + saw him last?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I’ll tell you!’ cried Affery, unstopping her mouth. ‘I dreamed it, first + of all my dreams. Jeremiah, if you come a-nigh me now, I’ll scream to be + heard at St Paul’s! The person as this man has spoken of, was Jeremiah’s + own twin brother; and he was here in the dead of the night, on the night + when Arthur come home, and Jeremiah with his own hands give him this + paper, along with I don’t know what more, and he took it away in an iron + box—Help! Murder! Save me from Jere-<i>mi</i>-ah!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch had made a run at her, but Rigaud had caught him in his arms + midway. After a moment’s wrestle with him, Flintwinch gave up, and put his + hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + ‘What!’ cried Rigaud, rallying him as he poked and jerked him back with + his elbows, ‘assault a lady with such a genius for dreaming! Ha, ha, ha! + Why, she’ll be a fortune to you as an exhibition. All that she dreams + comes true. Ha, ha, ha! You’re so like him, Little Flintwinch. So like + him, as I knew him (when I first spoke English for him to the host) in the + Cabaret of the Three Billiard Tables, in the little street of the high + roofs, by the wharf at Antwerp! Ah, but he was a brave boy to drink. Ah, + but he was a brave boy to smoke! Ah, but he lived in a sweet + bachelor-apartment—furnished, on the fifth floor, above the wood and + charcoal merchant’s, and the dress-maker’s, and the chair-maker’s, and the + maker of tubs—where I knew him too, and wherewith his cognac and + tobacco, he had twelve sleeps a day and one fit, until he had a fit too + much, and ascended to the skies. Ha, ha, ha! What does it matter how I + took possession of the papers in his iron box? Perhaps he confided it to + my hands for you, perhaps it was locked and my curiosity was piqued, + perhaps I suppressed it. Ha, ha, ha! What does it matter, so that I have + it safe? We are not particular here; hey, Flintwinch? We are not + particular here; is it not so, madame?’ + </p> + <p> + Retiring before him with vicious counter-jerks of his own elbows, Mr + Flintwinch had got back into his corner, where he now stood with his hands + in his pockets, taking breath, and returning Mrs Clennam’s stare. ‘Ha, ha, + ha! But what’s this?’ cried Rigaud. ‘It appears as if you don’t know, one + the other. Permit me, Madame Clennam who suppresses, to present Monsieur + Flintwinch who intrigues.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Flintwinch, unpocketing one of his hands to scrape his jaw, advanced a + step or so in that attitude, still returning Mrs Clennam’s look, and thus + addressed her: + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, I know what you mean by opening your eyes so wide at me, but you + needn’t take the trouble, because I don’t care for it. I’ve been telling + you for how many years that you’re one of the most opinionated and + obstinate of women. That’s what <i>you</i> are. You call yourself humble + and sinful, but you are the most Bumptious of your sex. That’s what <i>you</i> + are. I have told you, over and over again when we have had a tiff, that + you wanted to make everything go down before you, but I wouldn’t go down + before you—that you wanted to swallow up everybody alive, but I + wouldn’t be swallowed up alive. Why didn’t you destroy the paper when you + first laid hands upon it? I advised you to; but no, it’s not your way to + take advice. You must keep it forsooth. Perhaps you may carry it out at + some other time, forsooth. As if I didn’t know better than that! I think I + see your pride carrying it out, with a chance of being suspected of having + kept it by you. But that’s the way you cheat yourself. Just as you cheat + yourself into making out that you didn’t do all this business because you + were a rigorous woman, all slight, and spite, and power, and + unforgiveness, but because you were a servant and a minister, and were + appointed to do it. Who are you, that you should be appointed to do it? + That may be your religion, but it’s my gammon. And to tell you all the + truth while I am about it,’ said Mr Flintwinch, crossing his arms, and + becoming the express image of irascible doggedness, ‘I have been rasped—rasped + these forty years—by your taking such high ground even with me, who + knows better; the effect of it being coolly to put me on low ground. I + admire you very much; you are a woman of strong head and great talent; but + the strongest head, and the greatest talent, can’t rasp a man for forty + years without making him sore. So I don’t care for your present eyes. Now, + I am coming to the paper, and mark what I say. You put it away somewhere, + and you kept your own counsel where. You’re an active woman at that time, + and if you want to get that paper, you can get it. But, mark. There comes + a time when you are struck into what you are now, and then if you want to + get that paper, you can’t get it. So it lies, long years, in its + hiding-place. At last, when we are expecting Arthur home every day, and + when any day may bring him home, and it’s impossible to say what rummaging + he may make about the house, I recommend you five thousand times, if you + can’t get at it, to let me get at it, that it may be put in the fire. But + no—no one but you knows where it is, and that’s power; and, call + yourself whatever humble names you will, I call you a female Lucifer in + appetite for power! On a Sunday night, Arthur comes home. He has not been + in this room ten minutes, when he speaks of his father’s watch. You know + very well that the Do Not Forget, at the time when his father sent that + watch to you, could only mean, the rest of the story being then all dead + and over, Do Not Forget the suppression. Make restitution! Arthur’s ways + have frightened you a bit, and the paper shall be burnt after all. So, + before that jumping jade and Jezebel,’ Mr Flintwinch grinned at his wife, + ‘has got you into bed, you at last tell me where you have put the paper, + among the old ledgers in the cellars, where Arthur himself went prowling + the very next morning. But it’s not to be burnt on a Sunday night. No; you + are strict, you are; we must wait over twelve o’clock, and get into + Monday. Now, all this is a swallowing of me up alive that rasps me; so, + feeling a little out of temper, and not being as strict as yourself, I + take a look at the document before twelve o’clock to refresh my memory as + to its appearance—fold up one of the many yellow old papers in the + cellars like it—and afterwards, when we have got into Monday + morning, and I have, by the light of your lamp, to walk from you, lying on + that bed, to this grate, make a little exchange like the conjuror, and + burn accordingly. My brother Ephraim, the lunatic-keeper (I wish he had + had himself to keep in a strait-waistcoat), had had many jobs since the + close of the long job he got from you, but had not done well. His wife + died (not that that was much; mine might have died instead, and welcome), + he speculated unsuccessfully in lunatics, he got into difficulty about + over-roasting a patient to bring him to reason, and he got into debt. He + was going out of the way, on what he had been able to scrape up, and a + trifle from me. He was here that early Monday morning, waiting for the + tide; in short, he was going to Antwerp, where (I am afraid you’ll be + shocked at my saying, And be damned to him!) he made the acquaintance of + this gentleman. He had come a long way, and, I thought then, was only + sleepy; but, I suppose now, was drunk. When Arthur’s mother had been under + the care of him and his wife, she had been always writing, incessantly + writing,—mostly letters of confession to you, and Prayers for + forgiveness. My brother had handed, from time to time, lots of these + sheets to me. I thought I might as well keep them to myself as have them + swallowed up alive too; so I kept them in a box, looking over them when I + felt in the humour. Convinced that it was advisable to get the paper out + of the place, with Arthur coming about it, I put it into this same box, + and I locked the whole up with two locks, and I trusted it to my brother + to take away and keep, till I should write about it. I did write about it, + and never got an answer. I didn’t know what to make of it, till this + gentleman favoured us with his first visit. Of course, I began to suspect + how it was, then; and I don’t want his word for it now to understand how + he gets his knowledge from my papers, and your paper, and my brother’s + cognac and tobacco talk (I wish he’d had to gag himself). Now, I have only + one thing more to say, you hammer-headed woman, and that is, that I + haven’t altogether made up my mind whether I might, or might not, have + ever given you any trouble about the codicil. I think not; and that I + should have been quite satisfied with knowing I had got the better of you, + and that I held the power over you. In the present state of circumstances, + I have no more explanation to give you till this time to-morrow night. So + you may as well,’ said Mr Flintwinch, terminating his oration with a + screw, ‘keep your eyes open at somebody else, for it’s no use keeping ‘em + open at me.’ + </p> + <p> + She slowly withdrew them when he had ceased, and dropped her forehead on + her hand. Her other hand pressed hard upon the table, and again the + curious stir was observable in her, as if she were going to rise. + </p> + <p> + ‘This box can never bring, elsewhere, the price it will bring here. This + knowledge can never be of the same profit to you, sold to any other + person, as sold to me. But I have not the present means of raising the sum + you have demanded. I have not prospered. What will you take now, and what + at another time, and how am I to be assured of your silence?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘My angel,’ said Rigaud, ‘I have said what I will take, and time presses. + Before coming here, I placed copies of the most important of these papers + in another hand. Put off the time till the Marshalsea gate shall be shut + for the night, and it will be too late to treat. The prisoner will have + read them.’ + </p> + <p> + She put her two hands to her head again, uttered a loud exclamation, and + started to her feet. She staggered for a moment, as if she would have + fallen; then stood firm. + </p> + <p> + ‘Say what you mean. Say what you mean, man!’ + </p> + <p> + Before her ghostly figure, so long unused to its erect attitude, and so + stiffened in it, Rigaud fell back and dropped his voice. It was, to all + the three, almost as if a dead woman had risen. + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Dorrit,’ answered Rigaud, ‘the little niece of Monsieur Frederick, + whom I have known across the water, is attached to the prisoner. Miss + Dorrit, little niece of Monsieur Frederick, watches at this moment over + the prisoner, who is ill. For her I with my own hands left a packet at the + prison, on my way here, with a letter of instructions, “<i>for his sake</i>”—she + will do anything for his sake—to keep it without breaking the seal, + in case of its being reclaimed before the hour of shutting up to-night—if + it should not be reclaimed before the ringing of the prison bell, to give + it to him; and it encloses a second copy for herself, which he must give + to her. What! I don’t trust myself among you, now we have got so far, + without giving my secret a second life. And as to its not bringing me, + elsewhere, the price it will bring here, say then, madame, have you + limited and settled the price the little niece will give—for his + sake—to hush it up? Once more I say, time presses. The packet not + reclaimed before the ringing of the bell to-night, you cannot buy. I sell, + then, to the little girl!’ + </p> + <p> + Once more the stir and struggle in her, and she ran to a closet, tore the + door open, took down a hood or shawl, and wrapped it over her head. + Affery, who had watched her in terror, darted to her in the middle of the + room, caught hold of her dress, and went on her knees to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t, don’t, don’t! What are you doing? Where are you going? You’re a + fearful woman, but I don’t bear you no ill-will. I can do poor Arthur no + good now, that I see; and you needn’t be afraid of me. I’ll keep your + secret. Don’t go out, you’ll fall dead in the street. Only promise me, + that, if it’s the poor thing that’s kept here secretly, you’ll let me take + charge of her and be her nurse. Only promise me that, and never be afraid + of me.’ + </p> + <p> + Mrs Clennam stood still for an instant, at the height of her rapid haste, + saying in stern amazement: + </p> + <p> + ‘Kept here? She has been dead a score of years or more. Ask Flintwinch—ask + <i>him</i>. They can both tell you that she died when Arthur went abroad.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘So much the worse,’ said Affery, with a shiver, ‘for she haunts the + house, then. Who else rustles about it, making signals by dropping dust so + softly? Who else comes and goes, and marks the walls with long crooked + touches when we are all a-bed? Who else holds the door sometimes? But + don’t go out—don’t go out! Mistress, you’ll die in the street!’ + </p> + <p> + Her mistress only disengaged her dress from the beseeching hands, said to + Rigaud, ‘Wait here till I come back!’ and ran out of the room. They saw + her, from the window, run wildly through the court-yard and out at the + gateway. + </p> + <p> + For a few moments they stood motionless. Affery was the first to move, and + she, wringing her hands, pursued her mistress. Next, Jeremiah Flintwinch, + slowly backing to the door, with one hand in a pocket, and the other + rubbing his chin, twisted himself out in his reticent way, speechlessly. + Rigaud, left alone, composed himself upon the window-seat of the open + window, in the old Marseilles-jail attitude. He laid his cigarettes and + fire-box ready to his hand, and fell to smoking. + </p> + <p> + ‘Whoof! Almost as dull as the infernal old jail. Warmer, but almost as + dismal. Wait till she comes back? Yes, certainly; but where is she gone, + and how long will she be gone? No matter! Rigaud Lagnier Blandois, my + amiable subject, you will get your money. You will enrich yourself. You + have lived a gentleman; you will die a gentleman. You triumph, my little + boy; but it is your character to triumph. Whoof!’ + </p> + <p> + In the hour of his triumph, his moustache went up and his nose came down, + as he ogled a great beam over his head with particular satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0067"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 31. Closed + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sun had set, and the streets were dim in the dusty twilight, when the + figure so long unused to them hurried on its way. In the immediate + neighbourhood of the old house it attracted little attention, for there + were only a few straggling people to notice it; but, ascending from the + river by the crooked ways that led to London Bridge, and passing into the + great main road, it became surrounded by astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Resolute and wild of look, rapid of foot and yet weak and uncertain, + conspicuously dressed in its black garments and with its hurried + head-covering, gaunt and of an unearthly paleness, it pressed forward, + taking no more heed of the throng than a sleep-walker. More remarkable by + being so removed from the crowd it was among than if it had been lifted on + a pedestal to be seen, the figure attracted all eyes. Saunterers pricked + up their attention to observe it; busy people, crossing it, slackened + their pace and turned their heads; companions pausing and standing aside, + whispered one another to look at this spectral woman who was coming by; + and the sweep of the figure as it passed seemed to create a vortex, + drawing the most idle and most curious after it. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0695m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0695m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0695.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + Made giddy by the turbulent irruption of this multitude of staring faces + into her cell of years, by the confusing sensation of being in the air, + and the yet more confusing sensation of being afoot, by the unexpected + changes in half-remembered objects, and the want of likeness between the + controllable pictures her imagination had often drawn of the life from + which she was secluded and the overwhelming rush of the reality, she held + her way as if she were environed by distracting thoughts, rather than by + external humanity and observation. But, having crossed the bridge and gone + some distance straight onward, she remembered that she must ask for a + direction; and it was only then, when she stopped and turned to look about + her for a promising place of inquiry, that she found herself surrounded by + an eager glare of faces. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why are you encircling me?’ she asked, trembling. + </p> + <p> + None of those who were nearest answered; but from the outer ring there + arose a shrill cry of ‘’Cause you’re mad!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am sure as sane as any one here. I want to find the Marshalsea prison.’ + </p> + <p> + The shrill outer circle again retorted, ‘Then that ‘ud show you was mad if + nothing else did, ‘cause it’s right opposite!’ + </p> + <p> + A short, mild, quiet-looking young man made his way through to her, as a + whooping ensued on this reply, and said: ‘Was it the Marshalsea you + wanted? I’m going on duty there. Come across with me.’ + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his arm, and he took her over the way; the crowd, + rather injured by the near prospect of losing her, pressing before and + behind and on either side, and recommending an adjournment to Bedlam. + After a momentary whirl in the outer court-yard, the prison-door opened, + and shut upon them. In the Lodge, which seemed by contrast with the outer + noise a place of refuge and peace, a yellow lamp was already striving with + the prison shadows. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, John!’ said the turnkey who admitted them. ‘What is it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nothing, father; only this lady not knowing her way, and being badgered + by the boys. Who did you want, ma’am?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Miss Dorrit. Is she here?’ + </p> + <p> + The young man became more interested. ‘Yes, she is here. What might your + name be?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mrs Clennam.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Clennam’s mother?’ asked the young man. + </p> + <p> + She pressed her lips together, and hesitated. ‘Yes. She had better be told + it is his mother.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You see,’ said the young man, ‘the Marshal’s family living in the country + at present, the Marshal has given Miss Dorrit one of the rooms in his + house to use when she likes. Don’t you think you had better come up there, + and let me bring Miss Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + She signified her assent, and he unlocked a door and conducted her up a + side staircase into a dwelling-house above. He showed her into a darkening + room, and left her. The room looked down into the darkening prison-yard, + with its inmates strolling here and there, leaning out of windows + communing as much apart as they could with friends who were going away, + and generally wearing out their imprisonment as they best might that + summer evening. The air was heavy and hot; the closeness of the place, + oppressive; and from without there arose a rush of free sounds, like the + jarring memory of such things in a headache and heartache. She stood at + the window, bewildered, looking down into this prison as it were out of + her own different prison, when a soft word or two of surprise made her + start, and Little Dorrit stood before her. + </p> + <p> + ‘Is it possible, Mrs Clennam, that you are so happily recovered as—’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit stopped, for there was neither happiness nor health in the + face that turned to her. + </p> + <p> + ‘This is not recovery; it is not strength; I don’t know what it is.’ With + an agitated wave of her hand, she put all that aside. ‘You have a packet + left with you which you were to give to Arthur, if it was not reclaimed + before this place closed to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I reclaim it.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit took it from her bosom, and gave it into her hand, which + remained stretched out after receiving it. + </p> + <p> + ‘Have you any idea of its contents?’ + </p> + <p> + Frightened by her being there with that new power Of Movement in her, + which, as she said herself, was not strength, and which was unreal to look + upon, as though a picture or statue had been animated, Little Dorrit + answered ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Read them.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit took the packet from the still outstretched hand, and broke + the seal. Mrs Clennam then gave her the inner packet that was addressed to + herself, and held the other. The shadow of the wall and of the prison + buildings, which made the room sombre at noon, made it too dark to read + there, with the dusk deepening apace, save in the window. In the window, + where a little of the bright summer evening sky could shine upon her, + Little Dorrit stood, and read. After a broken exclamation or so of wonder + and of terror, she read in silence. When she had finished, she looked + round, and her old mistress bowed herself before her. + </p> + <p> + ‘You know, now, what I have done.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think so. I am afraid so; though my mind is so hurried, and so sorry, + and has so much to pity that it has not been able to follow all I have + read,’ said Little Dorrit tremulously. + </p> + <p> + ‘I will restore to you what I have withheld from you. Forgive me. Can you + forgive me?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I can, and Heaven knows I do! Do not kiss my dress and kneel to me; you + are too old to kneel to me; I forgive you freely without that.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have more yet to ask.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not in that posture,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘It is unnatural to see your + grey hair lower than mine. Pray rise; let me help you.’ With that she + raised her up, and stood rather shrinking from her, but looking at her + earnestly. + </p> + <p> + ‘The great petition that I make to you (there is another which grows out + of it), the great supplication that I address to your merciful and gentle + heart, is, that you will not disclose this to Arthur until I am dead. If + you think, when you have had time for consideration, that it can do him + any good to know it while I am yet alive, then tell him. But you will not + think that; and in such case, will you promise me to spare me until I am + dead?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am so sorry, and what I have read has so confused my thoughts,’ + returned Little Dorrit, ‘that I can scarcely give you a steady answer. If + I should be quite sure that to be acquainted with it will do Mr Clennam no + good—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know you are attached to him, and will make him the first + consideration. It is right that he should be the first consideration. I + ask that. But, having regarded him, and still finding that you may spare + me for the little time I shall remain on earth, will you do it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I will.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘GOD bless you!’ + </p> + <p> + She stood in the shadow so that she was only a veiled form to Little + Dorrit in the light; but the sound of her voice, in saying those three + grateful words, was at once fervent and broken—broken by emotion as + unfamiliar to her frozen eyes as action to her frozen limbs. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will wonder, perhaps,’ she said in a stronger tone, ‘that I can + better bear to be known to you whom I have wronged, than to the son of my + enemy who wronged me.—For she did wrong me! She not only sinned + grievously against the Lord, but she wronged me. What Arthur’s father was + to me, she made him. From our marriage day I was his dread, and that she + made me. I was the scourge of both, and that is referable to her. You love + Arthur (I can see the blush upon your face; may it be the dawn of happier + days to both of you!), and you will have thought already that he is as + merciful and kind as you, and why do I not trust myself to him as soon as + to you. Have you not thought so?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No thought,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘can be quite a stranger to my heart, + that springs out of the knowledge that Mr Clennam is always to be relied + upon for being kind and generous and good.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I do not doubt it. Yet Arthur is, of the whole world, the one person from + whom I would conceal this, while I am in it. I kept over him as a child, + in the days of his first remembrance, my restraining and correcting hand. + I was stern with him, knowing that the transgressions of the parents are + visited on their offspring, and that there was an angry mark upon him at + his birth. I have sat with him and his father, seeing the weakness of his + father yearning to unbend to him; and forcing it back, that the child + might work out his release in bondage and hardship. I have seen him, with + his mother’s face, looking up at me in awe from his little books, and + trying to soften me with his mother’s ways that hardened me.’ + </p> + <p> + The shrinking of her auditress stopped her for a moment in her flow of + words, delivered in a retrospective gloomy voice. + </p> + <p> + ‘For his good. Not for the satisfaction of my injury. What was I, and what + was the worth of that, before the curse of Heaven! I have seen that child + grow up; not to be pious in a chosen way (his mother’s influence lay too + heavy on him for that), but still to be just and upright, and to be + submissive to me. He never loved me, as I once half-hoped he might—so + frail we are, and so do the corrupt affections of the flesh war with our + trusts and tasks; but he always respected me and ordered himself dutifully + to me. He does to this hour. With an empty place in his heart that he has + never known the meaning of, he has turned away from me and gone his + separate road; but even that he has done considerately and with deference. + These have been his relations towards me. Yours have been of a much + slighter kind, spread over a much shorter time. When you have sat at your + needle in my room, you have been in fear of me, but you have supposed me + to have been doing you a kindness; you are better informed now, and know + me to have done you an injury. Your misconstruction and misunderstanding + of the cause in which, and the motives with which, I have worked out this + work, is lighter to endure than his would be. I would not, for any worldly + recompense I can imagine, have him in a moment, however blindly, throw me + down from the station I have held before him all his life, and change me + altogether into something he would cast out of his respect, and think + detected and exposed. Let him do it, if it must be done, when I am not + here to see it. Let me never feel, while I am still alive, that I die + before his face, and utterly perish away from him, like one consumed by + lightning and swallowed by an earthquake.’ + </p> + <p> + Her pride was very strong in her, the pain of it and of her old passions + was very sharp with her, when she thus expressed herself. Not less so, + when she added: + </p> + <p> + ‘Even now, I see <i>you</i> shrink from me, as if I had been cruel.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit could not gainsay it. She tried not to show it, but she + recoiled with dread from the state of mind that had burnt so fiercely and + lasted so long. It presented itself to her, with no sophistry upon it, in + its own plain nature. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have done,’ said Mrs Clennam, ‘what it was given to me to do. I have set + myself against evil; not against good. I have been an instrument of + severity against sin. Have not mere sinners like myself been commissioned + to lay it low in all time?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘In all time?’ repeated Little Dorrit. + </p> + <p> + ‘Even if my own wrong had prevailed with me, and my own vengeance had + moved me, could I have found no justification? None in the old days when + the innocent perished with the guilty, a thousand to one? When the wrath + of the hater of the unrighteous was not slaked even in blood, and yet + found favour?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O, Mrs Clennam, Mrs Clennam,’ said Little Dorrit, ‘angry feelings and + unforgiving deeds are no comfort and no guide to you and me. My life has + been passed in this poor prison, and my teaching has been very defective; + but let me implore you to remember later and better days. Be guided only + by the healer of the sick, the raiser of the dead, the friend of all who + were afflicted and forlorn, the patient Master who shed tears of + compassion for our infirmities. We cannot but be right if we put all the + rest away, and do everything in remembrance of Him. There is no vengeance + and no infliction of suffering in His life, I am sure. There can be no + confusion in following Him, and seeking for no other footsteps, I am + certain.’ + </p> + <p> + In the softened light of the window, looking from the scene of her early + trials to the shining sky, she was not in stronger opposition to the black + figure in the shade than the life and doctrine on which she rested were to + that figure’s history. It bent its head low again, and said not a word. It + remained thus, until the first warning bell began to ring. + </p> + <p> + ‘Hark!’ cried Mrs Clennam starting, ‘I said I had another petition. It is + one that does not admit of delay. The man who brought you this packet and + possesses these proofs, is now waiting at my house to be bought off. I can + keep this from Arthur, only by buying him off. He asks a large sum; more + than I can get together to pay him without having time. He refuses to make + any abatement, because his threat is, that if he fails with me, he will + come to you. Will you return with me and show him that you already know + it? Will you return with me and try to prevail with him? Will you come and + help me with him? Do not refuse what I ask in Arthur’s name, though I dare + not ask it for Arthur’s sake!’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit yielded willingly. She glided away into the prison for a few + moments, returned, and said she was ready to go. They went out by another + staircase, avoiding the lodge; and coming into the front court-yard, now + all quiet and deserted, gained the street. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those summer evenings when there is no greater darkness than + a long twilight. The vista of street and bridge was plain to see, and the + sky was serene and beautiful. People stood and sat at their doors, playing + with children and enjoying the evening; numbers were walking for air; the + worry of the day had almost worried itself out, and few but themselves + were hurried. As they crossed the bridge, the clear steeples of the many + churches looked as if they had advanced out of the murk that usually + enshrouded them, and come much nearer. The smoke that rose into the sky + had lost its dingy hue and taken a brightness upon it. The beauties of the + sunset had not faded from the long light films of cloud that lay at peace + in the horizon. From a radiant centre, over the whole length and breadth + of the tranquil firmament, great shoots of light streamed among the early + stars, like signs of the blessed later covenant of peace and hope that + changed the crown of thorns into a glory. + </p> + <p> + Less remarkable, now that she was not alone and it was darker, Mrs Clennam + hurried on at Little Dorrit’s side, unmolested. They left the great + thoroughfare at the turning by which she had entered it, and wound their + way down among the silent, empty, cross-streets. Their feet were at the + gateway, when there was a sudden noise like thunder. + </p> + <p> + ‘What was that! Let us make haste in,’ cried Mrs Clennam. + </p> + <p> + They were in the gateway. Little Dorrit, with a piercing cry, held her + back. + </p> + <p> + In one swift instant the old house was before them, with the man lying + smoking in the window; another thundering sound, and it heaved, surged + outward, opened asunder in fifty places, collapsed, and fell. Deafened by + the noise, stifled, choked, and blinded by the dust, they hid their faces + and stood rooted to the spot. The dust storm, driving between them and the + placid sky, parted for a moment and showed them the stars. As they looked + up, wildly crying for help, the great pile of chimneys, which was then + alone left standing like a tower in a whirlwind, rocked, broke, and hailed + itself down upon the heap of ruin, as if every tumbling fragment were + intent on burying the crushed wretch deeper. + </p> + <p> + So blackened by the flying particles of rubbish as to be unrecognisable, + they ran back from the gateway into the street, crying and shrieking. + There, Mrs Clennam dropped upon the stones; and she never from that hour + moved so much as a finger again, or had the power to speak one word. For + upwards of three years she reclined in a wheeled chair, looking + attentively at those about her and appearing to understand what they said; + but the rigid silence she had so long held was evermore enforced upon her, + and except that she could move her eyes and faintly express a negative and + affirmative with her head, she lived and died a statue. + </p> + <p> + Affery had been looking for them at the prison, and had caught sight of + them at a distance on the bridge. She came up to receive her old mistress + in her arms, to help to carry her into a neighbouring house, and to be + faithful to her. The mystery of the noises was out now; Affery, like + greater people, had always been right in her facts, and always wrong in + the theories she deduced from them. + </p> + <p> + When the storm of dust had cleared away and the summer night was calm + again, numbers of people choked up every avenue of access, and parties of + diggers were formed to relieve one another in digging among the ruins. + There had been a hundred people in the house at the time of its fall, + there had been fifty, there had been fifteen, there had been two. Rumour + finally settled the number at two; the foreigner and Mr Flintwinch. + </p> + <p> + The diggers dug all through the short night by flaring pipes of gas, and + on a level with the early sun, and deeper and deeper below it as it rose + into its zenith, and aslant of it as it declined, and on a level with it + again as it departed. Sturdy digging, and shovelling, and carrying away, + in carts, barrows, and baskets, went on without intermission, by night and + by day; but it was night for the second time when they found the dirty + heap of rubbish that had been the foreigner before his head had been + shivered to atoms, like so much glass, by the great beam that lay upon + him, crushing him. + </p> + <p> + Still, they had not come upon Flintwinch yet; so the sturdy digging and + shovelling and carrying away went on without intermission by night and by + day. It got about that the old house had had famous cellarage (which + indeed was true), and that Flintwinch had been in a cellar at the moment, + or had had time to escape into one, and that he was safe under its strong + arch, and even that he had been heard to cry, in hollow, subterranean, + suffocated notes, ‘Here I am!’ At the opposite extremity of the town it + was even known that the excavators had been able to open a communication + with him through a pipe, and that he had received both soup and brandy by + that channel, and that he had said with admirable fortitude that he was + All right, my lads, with the exception of his collar-bone. But the digging + and shovelling and carrying away went on without intermission, until the + ruins were all dug out, and the cellars opened to the light; and still no + Flintwinch, living or dead, all right or all wrong, had been turned up by + pick or spade. + </p> + <p> + It began then to be perceived that Flintwinch had not been there at the + time of the fall; and it began then to be perceived that he had been + rather busy elsewhere, converting securities into as much money as could + be got for them on the shortest notice, and turning to his own exclusive + account his authority to act for the Firm. Affery, remembering that the + clever one had said he would explain himself further in four-and-twenty + hours’ time, determined for her part that his taking himself off within + that period with all he could get, was the final satisfactory sum and + substance of his promised explanation; but she held her peace, devoutly + thankful to be quit of him. As it seemed reasonable to conclude that a man + who had never been buried could not be unburied, the diggers gave him up + when their task was done, and did not dig down for him into the depths of + the earth. + </p> + <p> + This was taken in ill part by a great many people, who persisted in + believing that Flintwinch was lying somewhere among the London geological + formation. Nor was their belief much shaken by repeated intelligence which + came over in course of time, that an old man who wore the tie of his + neckcloth under one ear, and who was very well known to be an Englishman, + consorted with the Dutchmen on the quaint banks of the canals of the Hague + and in the drinking-shops of Amsterdam, under the style and designation of + Mynheer von Flyntevynge. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0068"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 32. Going + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>rthur continuing to lie very ill in the Marshalsea, and Mr Rugg descrying + no break in the legal sky affording a hope of his enlargement, Mr Pancks + suffered desperately from self-reproaches. If it had not been for those + infallible figures which proved that Arthur, instead of pining in + imprisonment, ought to be promenading in a carriage and pair, and that Mr + Pancks, instead of being restricted to his clerkly wages, ought to have + from three to five thousand pounds of his own at his immediate disposal, + that unhappy arithmetician would probably have taken to his bed, and there + have made one of the many obscure persons who turned their faces to the + wall and died, as a last sacrifice to the late Mr Merdle’s greatness. + Solely supported by his unimpugnable calculations, Mr Pancks led an + unhappy and restless life; constantly carrying his figures about with him + in his hat, and not only going over them himself on every possible + occasion, but entreating every human being he could lay hold of to go over + them with him, and observe what a clear case it was. Down in Bleeding + Heart Yard there was scarcely an inhabitant of note to whom Mr Pancks had + not imparted his demonstration, and, as figures are catching, a kind of + cyphering measles broke out in that locality, under the influence of which + the whole Yard was light-headed. + </p> + <p> + The more restless Mr Pancks grew in his mind, the more impatient he became + of the Patriarch. In their later conferences his snorting assumed an + irritable sound which boded the Patriarch no good; likewise, Mr Pancks had + on several occasions looked harder at the Patriarchal bumps than was quite + reconcilable with the fact of his not being a painter, or a peruke-maker + in search of the living model. + </p> + <p> + However, he steamed in and out of his little back Dock according as he was + wanted or not wanted in the Patriarchal presence, and business had gone on + in its customary course. Bleeding Heart Yard had been harrowed by Mr + Pancks, and cropped by Mr Casby, at the regular seasons; Mr Pancks had + taken all the drudgery and all the dirt of the business as <i>his</i> + share; Mr Casby had taken all the profits, all the ethereal vapour, and + all the moonshine, as his share; and, in the form of words which that + benevolent beamer generally employed on Saturday evenings, when he twirled + his fat thumbs after striking the week’s balance, ‘everything had been + satisfactory to all parties—all parties—satisfactory, sir, to + all parties.’ + </p> + <p> + The Dock of the Steam-Tug, Pancks, had a leaden roof, which, frying in the + very hot sunshine, may have heated the vessel. Be that as it may, one + glowing Saturday evening, on being hailed by the lumbering bottle-green + ship, the Tug instantly came working out of the Dock in a highly heated + condition. + </p> + <p> + ‘Mr Pancks,’ was the Patriarchal remark, ‘you have been remiss, you have + been remiss, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you mean by that?’ was the short rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + The Patriarchal state, always a state of calmness and composure, was so + particularly serene that evening as to be provoking. Everybody else within + the bills of mortality was hot; but the Patriarch was perfectly cool. + Everybody was thirsty, and the Patriarch was drinking. There was a + fragrance of limes or lemons about him; and he made a drink of golden + sherry, which shone in a large tumbler as if he were drinking the evening + sunshine. This was bad, but not the worst. The worst was, that with his + big blue eyes, and his polished head, and his long white hair, and his + bottle-green legs stretched out before him, terminating in his easy shoes + easily crossed at the instep, he had a radiant appearance of having in his + extensive benevolence made the drink for the human species, while he + himself wanted nothing but his own milk of human kindness. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, Mr Pancks said, ‘What do you mean by that?’ and put his hair up + with both hands, in a highly portentous manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘I mean, Mr Pancks, that you must be sharper with the people, sharper with + the people, much sharper with the people, sir. You don’t squeeze them. You + don’t squeeze them. Your receipts are not up to the mark. You must squeeze + them, sir, or our connection will not continue to be as satisfactory as I + could wish it to be to all parties. All parties.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘<i>Don’t</i> I squeeze ‘em?’ retorted Mr Pancks. ‘What else am I made + for?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are made for nothing else, Mr Pancks. You are made to do your duty, + but you don’t do your duty. You are paid to squeeze, and you must squeeze + to pay.’ The Patriarch so much surprised himself by this brilliant turn, + after Dr Johnson, which he had not in the least expected or intended, that + he laughed aloud; and repeated with great satisfaction, as he twirled his + thumbs and nodded at his youthful portrait, ‘Paid to squeeze, sir, and + must squeeze to pay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh,’ said Pancks. ‘Anything more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir, yes, sir. Something more. You will please, Mr Pancks, to + squeeze the Yard again, the first thing on Monday morning.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Pancks. ‘Ain’t that too soon? I squeezed it dry to-day.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Nonsense, sir. Not near the mark, not near the mark.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Pancks, watching him as he benevolently gulped down a good + draught of his mixture. ‘Anything more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir, yes, sir, something more. I am not at all pleased, Mr Pancks, + with my daughter; not at all pleased. Besides calling much too often to + inquire for Mrs Clennam, Mrs Clennam, who is not just now in circumstances + that are by any means calculated to—to be satisfactory to all + parties, she goes, Mr Pancks, unless I am much deceived, to inquire for Mr + Clennam in jail. In jail.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘He’s laid up, you know,’ said Pancks. ‘Perhaps it’s kind.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Pooh, pooh, Mr Pancks. She has nothing to do with that, nothing to do + with that. I can’t allow it. Let him pay his debts and come out, come out; + pay his debts, and come out.’ + </p> + <p> + Although Mr Pancks’s hair was standing up like strong wire, he gave it + another double-handed impulse in the perpendicular direction, and smiled + at his proprietor in a most hideous manner. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will please to mention to my daughter, Mr Pancks, that I can’t allow + it, can’t allow it,’ said the Patriarch blandly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Pancks. ‘You couldn’t mention it yourself?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No, sir, no; you are paid to mention it,’ the blundering old booby could + not resist the temptation of trying it again, ‘and you must mention it to + pay, mention it to pay.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh!’ said Pancks. ‘Anything more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir. It appears to me, Mr Pancks, that you yourself are too often + and too much in that direction, that direction. I recommend you, Mr + Pancks, to dismiss from your attention both your own losses and other + people’s losses, and to mind your business, mind your business.’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks acknowledged this recommendation with such an extraordinarily + abrupt, short, and loud utterance of the monosyllable ‘Oh!’ that even the + unwieldy Patriarch moved his blue eyes in something of a hurry, to look at + him. Mr Pancks, with a sniff of corresponding intensity, then added, + ‘Anything more?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Not at present, sir, not at present. I am going,’ said the Patriarch, + finishing his mixture, and rising with an amiable air, ‘to take a little + stroll, a little stroll. Perhaps I shall find you here when I come back. + If not, sir, duty, duty; squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, on Monday; squeeze on + Monday!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks, after another stiffening of his hair, looked on at the + Patriarchal assumption of the broad-brimmed hat, with a momentary + appearance of indecision contending with a sense of injury. He was also + hotter than at first, and breathed harder. But he suffered Mr Casby to go + out, without offering any further remark, and then took a peep at him over + the little green window-blinds. ‘I thought so,’ he observed. ‘I knew where + you were bound to. Good!’ He then steamed back to his Dock, put it + carefully in order, took down his hat, looked round the Dock, said + ‘Good-bye!’ and puffed away on his own account. He steered straight for + Mrs Plornish’s end of Bleeding Heart Yard, and arrived there, at the top + of the steps, hotter than ever. + </p> + <p> + At the top of the steps, resisting Mrs Plornish’s invitations to come and + sit along with father in Happy Cottage—which to his relief were not + so numerous as they would have been on any other night than Saturday, when + the connection who so gallantly supported the business with everything but + money gave their orders freely—at the top of the steps Mr Pancks + remained until he beheld the Patriarch, who always entered the Yard at the + other end, slowly advancing, beaming, and surrounded by suitors. Then Mr + Pancks descended and bore down upon him, with his utmost pressure of steam + on. + </p> + <p> + The Patriarch, approaching with his usual benignity, was surprised to see + Mr Pancks, but supposed him to have been stimulated to an immediate + squeeze instead of postponing that operation until Monday. The population + of the Yard were astonished at the meeting, for the two powers had never + been seen there together, within the memory of the oldest Bleeding Heart. + But they were overcome by unutterable amazement when Mr Pancks, going + close up to the most venerable of men and halting in front of the + bottle-green waistcoat, made a trigger of his right thumb and forefinger, + applied the same to the brim of the broad-brimmed hat, and, with singular + smartness and precision, shot it off the polished head as if it had been a + large marble. + </p> + <p> + Having taken this little liberty with the Patriarchal person, Mr Pancks + further astounded and attracted the Bleeding Hearts by saying in an + audible voice, ‘Now, you sugary swindler, I mean to have it out with you!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr Pancks and the Patriarch were instantly the centre of a press, all eyes + and ears; windows were thrown open, and door-steps were thronged. + </p> + <p> + ‘What do you pretend to be?’ said Mr Pancks. ‘What’s your moral game? What + do you go in for? Benevolence, an’t it? You benevolent!’ Here Mr Pancks, + apparently without the intention of hitting him, but merely to relieve his + mind and expend his superfluous power in wholesome exercise, aimed a blow + at the bumpy head, which the bumpy head ducked to avoid. This singular + performance was repeated, to the ever-increasing admiration of the + spectators, at the end of every succeeding article of Mr Pancks’s oration. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have discharged myself from your service,’ said Pancks, ‘that I may + tell you what you are. You’re one of a lot of impostors that are the worst + lot of all the lots to be met with. Speaking as a sufferer by both, I + don’t know that I wouldn’t as soon have the Merdle lot as your lot. You’re + a driver in disguise, a screwer by deputy, a wringer, and squeezer, and + shaver by substitute. You’re a philanthropic sneak. You’re a shabby + deceiver!’ + </p> + <p> + (The repetition of the performance at this point was received with a burst + of laughter.) + </p> + <p> + ‘Ask these good people who’s the hard man here. They’ll tell you Pancks, I + believe.’ + </p> + <p> + This was confirmed with cries of ‘Certainly,’ and ‘Hear!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘But I tell you, good people—Casby! This mound of meekness, this + lump of love, this bottle-green smiler, this is your driver!’ said Pancks. + ‘If you want to see the man who would flay you alive—here he is! + Don’t look for him in me, at thirty shillings a week, but look for him in + Casby, at I don’t know how much a year!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Good!’ cried several voices. ‘Hear Mr Pancks!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Hear Mr Pancks?’ cried that gentleman (after repeating the popular + performance). ‘Yes, I should think so! It’s almost time to hear Mr Pancks. + Mr Pancks has come down into the Yard to-night on purpose that you should + hear him. Pancks is only the Works; but here’s the Winder!’ + </p> + <p> + The audience would have gone over to Mr Pancks, as one man, woman, and + child, but for the long, grey, silken locks, and the broad-brimmed hat. + </p> + <p> + ‘Here’s the Stop,’ said Pancks, ‘that sets the tune to be ground. And + there is but one tune, and its name is Grind, Grind, Grind! Here’s the + Proprietor, and here’s his Grubber. Why, good people, when he comes + smoothly spinning through the Yard to-night, like a slow-going benevolent + Humming-Top, and when you come about him with your complaints of the + Grubber, you don’t know what a cheat the Proprietor is! What do you think + of his showing himself to-night, that I may have all the blame on Monday? + What do you think of his having had me over the coals this very evening, + because I don’t squeeze you enough? What do you think of my being, at the + present moment, under special orders to squeeze you dry on Monday?’ + </p> + <p> + The reply was given in a murmur of ‘Shame!’ and ‘Shabby!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Shabby?’ snorted Pancks. ‘Yes, I should think so! The lot that your Casby + belongs to, is the shabbiest of all the lots. Setting their Grubbers on, + at a wretched pittance, to do what they’re ashamed and afraid to do and + pretend not to do, but what they will have done, or give a man no rest! + Imposing on you to give their Grubbers nothing but blame, and to give them + nothing but credit! Why, the worst-looking cheat in all this town who gets + the value of eighteenpence under false pretences, an’t half such a cheat + as this sign-post of The Casby’s Head here!’ + </p> + <p> + Cries of ‘That’s true!’ and ‘No more he an’t!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And see what you get of these fellows, besides,’ said Pancks. ‘See what + more you get of these precious Humming-Tops, revolving among you with such + smoothness that you’ve no idea of the pattern painted on ‘em, or the + little window in ‘em. I wish to call your attention to myself for a + moment. I an’t an agreeable style of chap, I know that very well.’ + </p> + <p> + The auditory were divided on this point; its more uncompromising members + crying, ‘No, you are not,’ and its politer materials, ‘Yes, you are.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am, in general,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘a dry, uncomfortable, dreary Plodder + and Grubber. That’s your humble servant. There’s his full-length portrait, + painted by himself and presented to you, warranted a likeness! But what’s + a man to be, with such a man as this for his Proprietor? What can be + expected of him? Did anybody ever find boiled mutton and caper-sauce + growing in a cocoa-nut?’ + </p> + <p> + None of the Bleeding Hearts ever had, it was clear from the alacrity of + their response. + </p> + <p> + ‘Well,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘and neither will you find in Grubbers like + myself, under Proprietors like this, pleasant qualities. I’ve been a + Grubber from a boy. What has my life been? Fag and grind, fag and grind, + turn the wheel, turn the wheel! I haven’t been agreeable to myself, and I + haven’t been likely to be agreeable to anybody else. If I was a shilling a + week less useful in ten years’ time, this impostor would give me a + shilling a week less; if as useful a man could be got at sixpence cheaper, + he would be taken in my place at sixpence cheaper. Bargain and sale, bless + you! Fixed principles! It’s a mighty fine sign-post, is The Casby’s Head,’ + said Mr Pancks, surveying it with anything rather than admiration; ‘but + the real name of the House is the Sham’s Arms. Its motto is, Keep the + Grubber always at it. Is any gentleman present,’ said Mr Pancks, breaking + off and looking round, ‘acquainted with the English Grammar?’ + </p> + <p> + Bleeding Heart Yard was shy of claiming that acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s no matter,’ said Mr Pancks, ‘I merely wish to remark that the task + this Proprietor has set me, has been never to leave off conjugating the + Imperative Mood Present Tense of the verb To keep always at it. Keep thou + always at it. Let him keep always at it. Keep we or do we keep always at + it. Keep ye or do ye or you keep always at it. Let them keep always at it. + Here is your benevolent Patriarch of a Casby, and there is his golden + rule. He is uncommonly improving to look at, and I am not at all so. He is + as sweet as honey, and I am as dull as ditch-water. He provides the pitch, + and I handle it, and it sticks to me. Now,’ said Mr Pancks, closing upon + his late Proprietor again, from whom he had withdrawn a little for the + better display of him to the Yard; ‘as I am not accustomed to speak in + public, and as I have made a rather lengthy speech, all circumstances + considered, I shall bring my observations to a close by requesting you to + get out of this.’ + </p> + <p> + The Last of the Patriarchs had been so seized by assault, and required so + much room to catch an idea in, an so much more room to turn it in, that he + had not a word to offer in reply. He appeared to be meditating some + Patriarchal way out of his delicate position, when Mr Pancks, once more + suddenly applying the trigger to his hat, shot it off again with his + former dexterity. On the preceding occasion, one or two of the Bleeding + Heart Yarders had obsequiously picked it up and handed it to its owner; + but Mr Pancks had now so far impressed his audience, that the Patriarch + had to turn and stoop for it himself. + </p> + <p> + Quick as lightning, Mr Pancks, who, for some moments, had had his right + hand in his coat pocket, whipped out a pair of shears, swooped upon the + Patriarch behind, and snipped off short the sacred locks that flowed upon + his shoulders. In a paroxysm of animosity and rapidity, Mr Pancks then + caught the broad-brimmed hat out of the astounded Patriarch’s hand, cut it + down into a mere stewpan, and fixed it on the Patriarch’s head. + </p> + <p> + Before the frightful results of this desperate action, Mr Pancks himself + recoiled in consternation. A bare-polled, goggle-eyed, big-headed + lumbering personage stood staring at him, not in the least impressive, not + in the least venerable, who seemed to have started out of the earth to ask + what was become of Casby. After staring at this phantom in return, in + silent awe, Mr Pancks threw down his shears, and fled for a place of + hiding, where he might lie sheltered from the consequences of his crime. + Mr Pancks deemed it prudent to use all possible despatch in making off, + though he was pursued by nothing but the sound of laughter in Bleeding + Heart Yard, rippling through the air and making it ring again. + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0069"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 33. Going! + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he changes of a fevered room are slow and fluctuating; but the changes of + the fevered world are rapid and irrevocable. + </p> + <p> + It was Little Dorrit’s lot to wait upon both kinds of change. The + Marshalsea walls, during a portion of every day, again embraced her in + their shadows as their child, while she thought for Clennam, worked for + him, watched him, and only left him, still to devote her utmost love and + care to him. Her part in the life outside the gate urged its pressing + claims upon her too, and her patience untiringly responded to them. Here + was Fanny, proud, fitful, whimsical, further advanced in that disqualified + state for going into society which had so much fretted her on the evening + of the tortoise-shell knife, resolved always to want comfort, resolved not + to be comforted, resolved to be deeply wronged, and resolved that nobody + should have the audacity to think her so. Here was her brother, a weak, + proud, tipsy, young old man, shaking from head to foot, talking as + indistinctly as if some of the money he plumed himself upon had got into + his mouth and couldn’t be got out, unable to walk alone in any act of his + life, and patronising the sister whom he selfishly loved (he always had + that negative merit, ill-starred and ill-launched Tip!) because he + suffered her to lead him. Here was Mrs Merdle in gauzy mourning—the + original cap whereof had possibly been rent to pieces in a fit of grief, + but had certainly yielded to a highly becoming article from the Parisian + market—warring with Fanny foot to foot, and breasting her with her + desolate bosom every hour in the day. Here was poor Mr Sparkler, not + knowing how to keep the peace between them, but humbly inclining to the + opinion that they could do no better than agree that they were both + remarkably fine women, and that there was no nonsense about either of them—for + which gentle recommendation they united in falling upon him frightfully. + Then, too, here was Mrs General, got home from foreign parts, sending a + Prune and a Prism by post every other day, demanding a new Testimonial by + way of recommendation to some vacant appointment or other. Of which + remarkable gentlewoman it may be finally observed, that there surely never + was a gentlewoman of whose transcendent fitness for any vacant appointment + on the face of this earth, so many people were (as the warmth of her + Testimonials evinced) so perfectly satisfied—or who was so very + unfortunate in having a large circle of ardent and distinguished admirers, + who never themselves happened to want her in any capacity. + </p> + <p> + On the first crash of the eminent Mr Merdle’s decease, many important + persons had been unable to determine whether they should cut Mrs Merdle, + or comfort her. As it seemed, however, essential to the strength of their + own case that they should admit her to have been cruelly deceived, they + graciously made the admission, and continued to know her. It followed that + Mrs Merdle, as a woman of fashion and good breeding who had been + sacrificed to the wiles of a vulgar barbarian (for Mr Merdle was found out + from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, the moment he was + found out in his pocket), must be actively championed by her order for her + order’s sake. She returned this fealty by causing it to be understood that + she was even more incensed against the felonious shade of the deceased + than anybody else was; thus, on the whole, she came out of her furnace + like a wise woman, and did exceedingly well. + </p> + <p> + Mr Sparkler’s lordship was fortunately one of those shelves on which a + gentleman is considered to be put away for life, unless there should be + reasons for hoisting him up with the Barnacle crane to a more lucrative + height. That patriotic servant accordingly stuck to his colours (the + Standard of four Quarterings), and was a perfect Nelson in respect of + nailing them to the mast. On the profits of his intrepidity, Mrs Sparkler + and Mrs Merdle, inhabiting different floors of the genteel little temple + of inconvenience to which the smell of the day before yesterday’s soup and + coach-horses was as constant as Death to man, arrayed themselves to fight + it out in the lists of Society, sworn rivals. And Little Dorrit, seeing + all these things as they developed themselves, could not but wonder, + anxiously, into what back corner of the genteel establishment Fanny’s + children would be poked by-and-by, and who would take care of those unborn + little victims. + </p> + <p> + Arthur being far too ill to be spoken with on subjects of emotion or + anxiety, and his recovery greatly depending on the repose into which his + weakness could be hushed, Little Dorrit’s sole reliance during this heavy + period was on Mr Meagles. He was still abroad; but she had written to him + through his daughter, immediately after first seeing Arthur in the + Marshalsea and since, confiding her uneasiness to him on the points on + which she was most anxious, but especially on one. To that one, the + continued absence of Mr Meagles abroad, instead of his comforting presence + in the Marshalsea, was referable. + </p> + <p> + Without disclosing the precise nature of the documents that had fallen + into Rigaud’s hands, Little Dorrit had confided the general outline of + that story to Mr Meagles, to whom she had also recounted his fate. The old + cautious habits of the scales and scoop at once showed Mr Meagles the + importance of recovering the original papers; wherefore he wrote back to + Little Dorrit, strongly confirming her in the solicitude she expressed on + that head, and adding that he would not come over to England ‘without + making some attempt to trace them out.’ + </p> + <p> + By this time Mr Henry Gowan had made up his mind that it would be + agreeable to him not to know the Meagleses. He was so considerate as to + lay no injunctions on his wife in that particular; but he mentioned to Mr + Meagles that personally they did not appear to him to get on together, and + that he thought it would be a good thing if—politely, and without + any scene, or anything of that sort—they agreed that they were the + best fellows in the world, but were best apart. Poor Mr Meagles, who was + already sensible that he did not advance his daughter’s happiness by being + constantly slighted in her presence, said ‘Good, Henry! You are my Pet’s + husband; you have displaced me, in the course of nature; if you wish it, + good!’ This arrangement involved the contingent advantage, which perhaps + Henry Gowan had not foreseen, that both Mr and Mrs Meagles were more + liberal than before to their daughter, when their communication was only + with her and her young child: and that his high spirit found itself better + provided with money, without being under the degrading necessity of + knowing whence it came. + </p> + <p> + Mr Meagles, at such a period, naturally seized an occupation with great + ardour. He knew from his daughter the various towns which Rigaud had been + haunting, and the various hotels at which he had been living for some time + back. The occupation he set himself was to visit these with all discretion + and speed, and, in the event of finding anywhere that he had left a bill + unpaid, and a box or parcel behind, to pay such bill, and bring away such + box or parcel. + </p> + <p> + With no other attendant than Mother, Mr Meagles went upon his pilgrimage, + and encountered a number of adventures. Not the least of his difficulties + was, that he never knew what was said to him, and that he pursued his + inquiries among people who never knew what he said to them. Still, with an + unshaken confidence that the English tongue was somehow the mother tongue + of the whole world, only the people were too stupid to know it, Mr Meagles + harangued innkeepers in the most voluble manner, entered into loud + explanations of the most complicated sort, and utterly renounced replies + in the native language of the respondents, on the ground that they were + ‘all bosh.’ Sometimes interpreters were called in; whom Mr Meagles + addressed in such idiomatic terms of speech, as instantly to extinguish + and shut up—which made the matter worse. On a balance of the + account, however, it may be doubted whether he lost much; for, although he + found no property, he found so many debts and various associations of + discredit with the proper name, which was the only word he made + intelligible, that he was almost everywhere overwhelmed with injurious + accusations. On no fewer than four occasions the police were called in to + receive denunciations of Mr Meagles as a Knight of Industry, a + good-for-nothing, and a thief, all of which opprobrious language he bore + with the best temper (having no idea what it meant), and was in the most + ignominious manner escorted to steam-boats and public carriages, to be got + rid of, talking all the while, like a cheerful and fluent Briton as he + was, with Mother under his arm. + </p> + <p> + But, in his own tongue, and in his own head, Mr Meagles was a clear, + shrewd, persevering man. When he had ‘worked round,’ as he called it, to + Paris in his pilgrimage, and had wholly failed in it so far, he was not + disheartened. ‘The nearer to England I follow him, you see, Mother,’ + argued Mr Meagles, ‘the nearer I am likely to come to the papers, whether + they turn up or no. Because it is only reasonable to conclude that he + would deposit them somewhere where they would be safe from people over in + England, and where they would yet be accessible to himself, don’t you + see?’ + </p> + <p> + At Paris Mr Meagles found a letter from Little Dorrit, lying waiting for + him; in which she mentioned that she had been able to talk for a minute or + two with Mr Clennam about this man who was no more; and that when she told + Mr Clennam that his friend Mr Meagles, who was on his way to see him, had + an interest in ascertaining something about the man if he could, he had + asked her to tell Mr Meagles that he had been known to Miss Wade, then + living in such a street at Calais. ‘Oho!’ said Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + As soon afterwards as might be in those Diligence days, Mr Meagles rang + the cracked bell at the cracked gate, and it jarred open, and the + peasant-woman stood in the dark doorway, saying, ‘Ice-say! Seer! Who?’ In + acknowledgment of whose address, Mr Meagles murmured to himself that there + was some sense about these Calais people, who really did know something of + what you and themselves were up to; and returned, ‘Miss Wade, my dear.’ He + was then shown into the presence of Miss Wade. + </p> + <p> + ‘It’s some time since we met,’ said Mr Meagles, clearing his throat; ‘I + hope you have been pretty well, Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + Without hoping that he or anybody else had been pretty well, Miss Wade + asked him to what she was indebted for the honour of seeing him again? Mr + Meagles, in the meanwhile, glanced all round the room without observing + anything in the shape of a box. + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, the truth is, Miss Wade,’ said Mr Meagles, in a comfortable, + managing, not to say coaxing voice, ‘it is possible that you may be able + to throw a light upon a little something that is at present dark. Any + unpleasant bygones between us are bygones, I hope. Can’t be helped now. + You recollect my daughter? Time changes so! A mother!’ + </p> + <p> + In his innocence, Mr Meagles could not have struck a worse key-note. He + paused for any expression of interest, but paused in vain. + </p> + <p> + ‘That is not the subject you wished to enter on?’ she said, after a cold + silence. + </p> + <p> + ‘No, no,’ returned Mr Meagles. ‘No. I thought your good nature might—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I thought you knew,’ she interrupted, with a smile, ‘that my good nature + is not to be calculated upon?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t say so,’ said Mr Meagles; ‘you do yourself an injustice. However, + to come to the point.’ For he was sensible of having gained nothing by + approaching it in a roundabout way. ‘I have heard from my friend Clennam, + who, you will be sorry to hear, has been and still is very ill—’ + </p> + <p> + He paused again, and again she was silent. + </p> + <p> + ‘—that you had some knowledge of one Blandois, lately killed in + London by a violent accident. Now, don’t mistake me! I know it was a + slight knowledge,’ said Mr Meagles, dexterously forestalling an angry + interruption which he saw about to break. ‘I am fully aware of that. It + was a slight knowledge, I know. But the question is,’ Mr Meagles’s voice + here became comfortable again, ‘did he, on his way to England last time, + leave a box of papers, or a bundle of papers, or some papers or other in + some receptacle or other—any papers—with you: begging you to + allow him to leave them here for a short time, until he wanted them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘The question is?’ she repeated. ‘Whose question is?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Mine,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘And not only mine but Clennam’s question, and + other people’s question. Now, I am sure,’ continued Mr Meagles, whose + heart was overflowing with Pet, ‘that you can’t have any unkind feeling + towards my daughter; it’s impossible. Well! It’s her question, too; being + one in which a particular friend of hers is nearly interested. So here I + am, frankly to say that is the question, and to ask, Now, did he?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Upon my word,’ she returned, ‘I seem to be a mark for everybody who knew + anything of a man I once in my life hired, and paid, and dismissed, to aim + their questions at!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, don’t,’ remonstrated Mr Meagles, ‘don’t! Don’t take offence, because + it’s the plainest question in the world, and might be asked of any one. + The documents I refer to were not his own, were wrongfully obtained, might + at some time or other be troublesome to an innocent person to have in + keeping, and are sought by the people to whom they really belong. He + passed through Calais going to London, and there were reasons why he + should not take them with him then, why he should wish to be able to put + his hand upon them readily, and why he should distrust leaving them with + people of his own sort. Did he leave them here? I declare if I knew how to + avoid giving you offence, I would take any pains to do it. I put the + question personally, but there’s nothing personal in it. I might put it to + any one; I have put it already to many people. Did he leave them here? Did + he leave anything here?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘No.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Then unfortunately, Miss Wade, you know nothing about them?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I know nothing about them. I have now answered your unaccountable + question. He did not leave them here, and I know nothing about them.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said Mr Meagles rising. ‘I am sorry for it; that’s over; and I + hope there is not much harm done.—Tattycoram well, Miss Wade?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Harriet well? O yes!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have put my foot in it again,’ said Mr Meagles, thus corrected. ‘I + can’t keep my foot out of it here, it seems. Perhaps, if I had thought + twice about it, I might never have given her the jingling name. But, when + one means to be good-natured and sportive with young people, one doesn’t + think twice. Her old friend leaves a kind word for her, Miss Wade, if you + should think proper to deliver it.’ + </p> + <p> + She said nothing as to that; and Mr Meagles, taking his honest face out of + the dull room, where it shone like a sun, took it to the Hotel where he + had left Mrs Meagles, and where he made the Report: ‘Beaten, Mother; no + effects!’ He took it next to the London Steam Packet, which sailed in the + night; and next to the Marshalsea. + </p> + <p> + The faithful John was on duty when Father and Mother Meagles presented + themselves at the wicket towards nightfall. Miss Dorrit was not there + then, he said; but she had been there in the morning, and invariably came + in the evening. Mr Clennam was slowly mending; and Maggy and Mrs Plornish + and Mr Baptist took care of him by turns. Miss Dorrit was sure to come + back that evening before the bell rang. There was the room the Marshal had + lent her, up-stairs, in which they could wait for her, if they pleased. + Mistrustful that it might be hazardous to Arthur to see him without + preparation, Mr Meagles accepted the offer; and they were left shut up in + the room, looking down through its barred window into the jail. + </p> + <p> + The cramped area of the prison had such an effect on Mrs Meagles that she + began to weep, and such an effect on Mr Meagles that he began to gasp for + air. He was walking up and down the room, panting, and making himself + worse by laboriously fanning himself with her handkerchief, when he turned + towards the opening door. + </p> + <p> + ‘Eh? Good gracious!’ said Mr Meagles, ‘this is not Miss Dorrit! Why, + Mother, look! Tattycoram!’ + </p> + <p> + No other. And in Tattycoram’s arms was an iron box some two feet square. + Such a box had Affery Flintwinch seen, in the first of her dreams, going + out of the old house in the dead of the night under Double’s arm. This, + Tattycoram put on the ground at her old master’s feet: this, Tattycoram + fell on her knees by, and beat her hands upon, crying half in exultation + and half in despair, half in laughter and half in tears, ‘Pardon, dear + Master; take me back, dear Mistress; here it is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Tatty!’ exclaimed Mr Meagles. + </p> + <p> + ‘What you wanted!’ said Tattycoram. ‘Here it is! I was put in the next + room not to see you. I heard you ask her about it, I heard her say she + hadn’t got it, I was there when he left it, and I took it at bedtime and + brought it away. Here it is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, my girl,’ cried Mr Meagles, more breathless than before, ‘how did + you come over?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I came in the boat with you. I was sitting wrapped up at the other end. + When you took a coach at the wharf, I took another coach and followed you + here. She never would have given it up after what you had said to her + about its being wanted; she would sooner have sunk it in the sea, or burnt + it. But, here it is!’ + </p> + <p> + The glow and rapture that the girl was in, with her ‘Here it is!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘She never wanted it to be left, I must say that for her; but he left it, + and I knew well that after what you said, and after her denying it, she + never would have given it up. But here it is! Dear Master, dear Mistress, + take me back again, and give me back the dear old name! Let this intercede + for me. Here it is!’ + </p> + <p> + Father and Mother Meagles never deserved their names better than when they + took the headstrong foundling-girl into their protection again. + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh! I have been so wretched,’ cried Tattycoram, weeping much more, + ‘always so unhappy, and so repentant! I was afraid of her from the first + time I saw her. I knew she had got a power over me through understanding + what was bad in me so well. It was a madness in me, and she could raise it + whenever she liked. I used to think, when I got into that state, that + people were all against me because of my first beginning; and the kinder + they were to me, the worse fault I found in them. I made it out that they + triumphed above me, and that they wanted to make me envy them, when I know—when + I even knew then—that they never thought of such a thing. And my + beautiful young mistress not so happy as she ought to have been, and I + gone away from her! Such a brute and a wretch as she must think me! But + you’ll say a word to her for me, and ask her to be as forgiving as you two + are? For I am not so bad as I was,’ pleaded Tattycoram; ‘I am bad enough, + but not so bad as I was, indeed. I have had Miss Wade before me all this + time, as if it was my own self grown ripe—turning everything the + wrong way, and twisting all good into evil. I have had her before me all + this time, finding no pleasure in anything but keeping me as miserable, + suspicious, and tormenting as herself. Not that she had much to do, to do + that,’ cried Tattycoram, in a closing great burst of distress, ‘for I was + as bad as bad could be. I only mean to say, that, after what I have gone + through, I hope I shall never be quite so bad again, and that I shall get + better by very slow degrees. I’ll try very hard. I won’t stop at + five-and-twenty, sir, I’ll count five-and-twenty hundred, five-and-twenty + thousand!’ + </p> + <p> + Another opening of the door, and Tattycoram subsided, and Little Dorrit + came in, and Mr Meagles with pride and joy produced the box, and her + gentle face was lighted up with grateful happiness and joy. The secret was + safe now! She could keep her own part of it from him; he should never know + of her loss; in time to come he should know all that was of import to + himself; but he should never know what concerned her only. That was all + passed, all forgiven, all forgotten. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now, my dear Miss Dorrit,’ said Mr Meagles; ‘I am a man of business—or + at least was—and I am going to take my measures promptly, in that + character. Had I better see Arthur to-night?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think not to-night. I will go to his room and ascertain how he is. But + I think it will be better not to see him to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I am much of your opinion, my dear,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘and therefore I + have not been any nearer to him than this dismal room. Then I shall + probably not see him for some little time to come. But I’ll explain what I + mean when you come back.’ + </p> + <p> + She left the room. Mr Meagles, looking through the bars of the window, saw + her pass out of the Lodge below him into the prison-yard. He said gently, + ‘Tattycoram, come to me a moment, my good girl.’ + </p> + <p> + She went up to the window. + </p> + <p> + ‘You see that young lady who was here just now—that little, quiet, + fragile figure passing along there, Tatty? Look. The people stand out of + the way to let her go by. The men—see the poor, shabby fellows—pull + off their hats to her quite politely, and now she glides in at that + doorway. See her, Tattycoram?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have heard tell, Tatty, that she was once regularly called the child of + this place. She was born here, and lived here many years. I can’t breathe + here. A doleful place to be born and bred in, Tattycoram?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes indeed, sir!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If she had constantly thought of herself, and settled with herself that + everybody visited this place upon her, turned it against her, and cast it + at her, she would have led an irritable and probably an useless existence. + Yet I have heard tell, Tattycoram, that her young life has been one of + active resignation, goodness, and noble service. Shall I tell you what I + consider those eyes of hers, that were here just now, to have always + looked at, to get that expression?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, if you please, sir.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Duty, Tattycoram. Begin it early, and do it well; and there is no + antecedent to it, in any origin or station, that will tell against us with + the Almighty, or with ourselves.’ + </p> + <p> + They remained at the window, Mother joining them and pitying the + prisoners, until she was seen coming back. She was soon in the room, and + recommended that Arthur, whom she had left calm and composed, should not + be visited that night. + </p> + <p> + ‘Good!’ said Mr Meagles, cheerily. ‘I have not a doubt that’s best. I + shall trust my remembrances then, my sweet nurse, in your hands, and I + well know they couldn’t be in better. I am off again to-morrow morning.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit, surprised, asked him where? + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear,’ said Mr Meagles, ‘I can’t live without breathing. This place + has taken my breath away, and I shall never get it back again until Arthur + is out of this place.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘How is that a reason for going off again to-morrow morning?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You shall understand,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘To-night we three will put up at + a City Hotel. To-morrow morning, Mother and Tattycoram will go down to + Twickenham, where Mrs Tickit, sitting attended by Dr Buchan in the + parlour-window, will think them a couple of ghosts; and I shall go abroad + again for Doyce. We must have Dan here. Now, I tell you, my love, it’s of + no use writing and planning and conditionally speculating upon this and + that and the other, at uncertain intervals and distances; we must have + Doyce here. I devote myself at daybreak to-morrow morning, to bringing + Doyce here. It’s nothing to me to go and find him. I’m an old traveller, + and all foreign languages and customs are alike to me—I never + understand anything about any of ‘em. Therefore I can’t be put to any + inconvenience. Go at once I must, it stands to reason; because I can’t + live without breathing freely; and I can’t breathe freely until Arthur is + out of this Marshalsea. I am stifled at the present moment, and have + scarcely breath enough to say this much, and to carry this precious box + down-stairs for you.’ + </p> + <p> + They got into the street as the bell began to ring, Mr Meagles carrying + the box. Little Dorrit had no conveyance there: which rather surprised + him. He called a coach for her and she got into it, and he placed the box + beside her when she was seated. In her joy and gratitude she kissed his + hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘I don’t like that, my dear,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘It goes against my feeling + of what’s right, that <i>you</i> should do homage to <i>me</i>—at + the Marshalsea Gate.’ + </p> + <p> + She bent forward, and kissed his cheek. + </p> + <p> + ‘You remind me of the days,’ said Mr Meagles, suddenly drooping—‘but + she’s very fond of him, and hides his faults, and thinks that no one sees + them—and he certainly is well connected and of a very good family!’ + </p> + <p> + It was the only comfort he had in the loss of his daughter, and if he made + the most of it, who could blame him? + </p> + <p> + <br><br> + </p> + <hr> + <p> + <a id="link2HCH0070"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br><br><br><br> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER 34. Gone + </h2> +<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n a healthy autumn day, the Marshalsea prisoner, weak but otherwise + restored, sat listening to a voice that read to him. On a healthy autumn + day; when the golden fields had been reaped and ploughed again, when the + summer fruits had ripened and waned, when the green perspectives of hops + had been laid low by the busy pickers, when the apples clustering in the + orchards were russet, and the berries of the mountain ash were crimson + among the yellowing foliage. Already in the woods, glimpses of the hardy + winter that was coming were to be caught through unaccustomed openings + among the boughs where the prospect shone defined and clear, free from the + bloom of the drowsy summer weather, which had rested on it as the bloom + lies on the plum. So, from the seashore the ocean was no longer to be seen + lying asleep in the heat, but its thousand sparkling eyes were open, and + its whole breadth was in joyful animation, from the cool sand on the beach + to the little sails on the horizon, drifting away like autumn-tinted + leaves that had drifted from the trees. + </p> + <p> + Changeless and barren, looking ignorantly at all the seasons with its + fixed, pinched face of poverty and care, the prison had not a touch of any + of these beauties on it. Blossom what would, its bricks and bars bore + uniformly the same dead crop. Yet Clennam, listening to the voice as it + read to him, heard in it all that great Nature was doing, heard in it all + the soothing songs she sings to man. At no Mother’s knee but hers had he + ever dwelt in his youth on hopeful promises, on playful fancies, on the + harvests of tenderness and humility that lie hidden in the early-fostered + seeds of the imagination; on the oaks of retreat from blighting winds, + that have the germs of their strong roots in nursery acorns. But, in the + tones of the voice that read to him, there were memories of an old feeling + of such things, and echoes of every merciful and loving whisper that had + ever stolen to him in his life. + </p> + <p> + When the voice stopped, he put his hand over his eyes, murmuring that the + light was strong upon them. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit put the book by, and presently arose quietly to shade the + window. Maggy sat at her needlework in her old place. The light softened, + Little Dorrit brought her chair closer to his side. + </p> + <p> + ‘This will soon be over now, dear Mr Clennam. Not only are Mr Doyce’s + letters to you so full of friendship and encouragement, but Mr Rugg says + his letters to him are so full of help, and that everybody (now a little + anger is past) is so considerate, and speaks so well of you, that it will + soon be over now.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear girl. Dear heart. Good angel!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You praise me far too much. And yet it is such an exquisite pleasure to + me to hear you speak so feelingly, and to—and to see,’ said Little + Dorrit, raising her eyes to his, ‘how deeply you mean it, that I cannot + say Don’t.’ + </p> + <p> + He lifted her hand to his lips. + </p> + <p> + ‘You have been here many, many times, when I have not seen you, Little + Dorrit?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes, I have been here sometimes when I have not come into the room.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very often?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Rather often,’ said Little Dorrit, timidly. + </p> + <p> + ‘Every day?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I think,’ said Little Dorrit, after hesitating, ‘that I have been here at + least twice every day.’ + </p> + <p> + He might have released the little light hand after fervently kissing it + again; but that, with a very gentle lingering where it was, it seemed to + court being retained. He took it in both of his, and it lay softly on his + breast. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Little Dorrit, it is not my imprisonment only that will soon be + over. This sacrifice of you must be ended. We must learn to part again, + and to take our different ways so wide asunder. You have not forgotten + what we said together, when you came back?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘O no, I have not forgotten it. But something has been—You feel + quite strong to-day, don’t you?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Quite strong.’ + </p> + <p> + The hand he held crept up a little nearer his face. + </p> + <p> + ‘Do you feel quite strong enough to know what a great fortune I have got?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I shall be very glad to be told. No fortune can be too great or good for + Little Dorrit.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I have been anxiously waiting to tell you. I have been longing and + longing to tell you. You are sure you will not take it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You are quite sure you will not take half of it?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Never, dear Little Dorrit!’ + </p> + <p> + As she looked at him silently, there was something in her affectionate + face that he did not quite comprehend: something that could have broken + into tears in a moment, and yet that was happy and proud. + </p> + <p> + ‘You will be sorry to hear what I have to tell you about Fanny. Poor Fanny + has lost everything. She has nothing left but her husband’s income. All + that papa gave her when she married was lost as your money was lost. It + was in the same hands, and it is all gone.’ + </p> + <p> + Arthur was more shocked than surprised to hear it. ‘I had hoped it might + not be so bad,’ he said: ‘but I had feared a heavy loss there, knowing the + connection between her husband and the defaulter.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes. It is all gone. I am very sorry for Fanny; very, very, very sorry + for poor Fanny. My poor brother too!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Had <i>he</i> property in the same hands?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Yes! And it’s all gone.—How much do you think my own great fortune + is?’ + </p> + <p> + As Arthur looked at her inquiringly, with a new apprehension on him, she + withdrew her hand, and laid her face down on the spot where it had rested. + </p> + <p> + ‘I have nothing in the world. I am as poor as when I lived here. When papa + came over to England, he confided everything he had to the same hands, and + it is all swept away. O my dearest and best, are you quite sure you will + not share my fortune with me now?’ + </p> + <p> + Locked in his arms, held to his heart, with his manly tears upon her own + cheek, she drew the slight hand round his neck, and clasped it in its + fellow-hand. + </p> + <p> + ‘Never to part, my dearest Arthur; never any more, until the last! I never + was rich before, I never was proud before, I never was happy before, I am + rich in being taken by you, I am proud in having been resigned by you, I + am happy in being with you in this prison, as I should be happy in coming + back to it with you, if it should be the will of GOD, and comforting and + serving you with all my love and truth. I am yours anywhere, everywhere! I + love you dearly! I would rather pass my life here with you, and go out + daily, working for our bread, than I would have the greatest fortune that + ever was told, and be the greatest lady that ever was honoured. O, if poor + papa may only know how blest at last my heart is, in this room where he + suffered for so many years!’ + </p> + <p> + Maggy had of course been staring from the first, and had of course been + crying her eyes out long before this. Maggy was now so overjoyed that, + after hugging her little mother with all her might, she went down-stairs + like a clog-hornpipe to find somebody or other to whom to impart her + gladness. Whom should Maggy meet but Flora and Mr F.‘s Aunt opportunely + coming in? And whom else, as a consequence of that meeting, should Little + Dorrit find waiting for herself, when, a good two or three hours + afterwards, she went out? + </p> + <p> + Flora’s eyes were a little red, and she seemed rather out of spirits. Mr + F.‘s Aunt was so stiffened that she had the appearance of being past + bending by any means short of powerful mechanical pressure. Her bonnet was + cocked up behind in a terrific manner; and her stony reticule was as rigid + as if it had been petrified by the Gorgon’s head, and had got it at that + moment inside. With these imposing attributes, Mr F.‘s Aunt, publicly + seated on the steps of the Marshal’s official residence, had been for the + two or three hours in question a great boon to the younger inhabitants of + the Borough, whose sallies of humour she had considerably flushed herself + by resenting at the point of her umbrella, from time to time. + </p> + <p> + ‘Painfully aware, Miss Dorrit, I am sure,’ said Flora, ‘that to propose an + adjournment to any place to one so far removed by fortune and so courted + and caressed by the best society must ever appear intruding even if not a + pie-shop far below your present sphere and a back-parlour though a civil + man but if for the sake of Arthur—cannot overcome it more improper + now than ever late Doyce and Clennam—one last remark I might wish to + make one last explanation I might wish to offer perhaps your good nature + might excuse under pretence of three kidney ones the humble place of + conversation.’ + </p> + <p> + Rightly interpreting this rather obscure speech, Little Dorrit returned + that she was quite at Flora’s disposition. Flora accordingly led the way + across the road to the pie-shop in question: Mr F.‘s Aunt stalking across + in the rear, and putting herself in the way of being run over, with a + perseverance worthy of a better cause. + </p> + <p> + When the ‘three kidney ones,’ which were to be a blind to the + conversation, were set before them on three little tin platters, each + kidney one ornamented with a hole at the top, into which the civil man + poured hot gravy out of a spouted can as if he were feeding three lamps, + Flora took out her pocket-handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + ‘If Fancy’s fair dreams,’ she began, ‘have ever pictured that when Arthur—cannot + overcome it pray excuse me—was restored to freedom even a pie as far + from flaky as the present and so deficient in kidney as to be in that + respect like a minced nutmeg might not prove unacceptable if offered by + the hand of true regard such visions have for ever fled and all is + cancelled but being aware that tender relations are in contemplation beg + to state that I heartily wish well to both and find no fault with either + not the least, it may be withering to know that ere the hand of Time had + made me much less slim than formerly and dreadfully red on the slightest + exertion particularly after eating I well know when it takes the form of a + rash, it might have been and was not through the interruption of parents + and mental torpor succeeded until the mysterious clue was held by Mr F. + still I would not be ungenerous to either and I heartily wish well to + both.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit took her hand, and thanked her for all her old kindness. + </p> + <p> + ‘Call it not kindness,’ returned Flora, giving her an honest kiss, ‘for + you always were the best and dearest little thing that ever was if I may + take the liberty and even in a money point of view a saving being + Conscience itself though I must add much more agreeable than mine ever was + to me for though not I hope more burdened than other people’s yet I have + always found it far readier to make one uncomfortable than comfortable and + evidently taking a greater pleasure in doing it but I am wandering, one + hope I wish to express ere yet the closing scene draws in and it is that I + do trust for the sake of old times and old sincerity that Arthur will know + that I didn’t desert him in his misfortunes but that I came backwards and + forwards constantly to ask if I could do anything for him and that I sat + in the pie-shop where they very civilly fetched something warm in a + tumbler from the hotel and really very nice hours after hours to keep him + company over the way without his knowing it.’ + </p> + <p> + Flora really had tears in her eyes now, and they showed her to great + advantage. + </p> + <p> + ‘Over and above which,’ said Flora, ‘I earnestly beg you as the dearest + thing that ever was if you’ll still excuse the familiarity from one who + moves in very different circles to let Arthur understand that I don’t know + after all whether it wasn’t all nonsense between us though pleasant at the + time and trying too and certainly Mr F. did work a change and the spell + being broken nothing could be expected to take place without weaving it + afresh which various circumstances have combined to prevent of which + perhaps not the least powerful was that it was not to be, I am not + prepared to say that if it had been agreeable to Arthur and had brought + itself about naturally in the first instance I should not have been very + glad being of a lively disposition and moped at home where papa + undoubtedly is the most aggravating of his sex and not improved since + having been cut down by the hand of the Incendiary into something of which + I never saw the counterpart in all my life but jealousy is not my + character nor ill-will though many faults.’ + </p> + <p> + Without having been able closely to follow Mrs Finching through this + labyrinth, Little Dorrit understood its purpose, and cordially accepted + the trust. + </p> + <p> + ‘The withered chaplet my dear,’ said Flora, with great enjoyment, ‘is then + perished the column is crumbled and the pyramid is standing upside down + upon its what’s-his-name call it not giddiness call it not weakness call + it not folly I must now retire into privacy and look upon the ashes of + departed joys no more but taking a further liberty of paying for the + pastry which has formed the humble pretext of our interview will for ever + say Adieu!’ + </p> + <p> + Mr F.‘s Aunt, who had eaten her pie with great solemnity, and who had been + elaborating some grievous scheme of injury in her mind since her first + assumption of that public position on the Marshal’s steps, took the + present opportunity of addressing the following Sibyllic apostrophe to the + relict of her late nephew. + </p> + <p> + ‘Bring him for’ard, and I’ll chuck him out o’ winder!’ + </p> + <p> + Flora tried in vain to soothe the excellent woman by explaining that they + were going home to dinner. Mr F.‘s Aunt persisted in replying, ‘Bring him + for’ard and I’ll chuck him out o’ winder!’ Having reiterated this demand + an immense number of times, with a sustained glare of defiance at Little + Dorrit, Mr F.‘s Aunt folded her arms, and sat down in the corner of the + pie-shop parlour; steadfastly refusing to budge until such time as ‘he’ + should have been ‘brought for’ard,’ and the chucking portion of his + destiny accomplished. + </p> + <p> + In this condition of things, Flora confided to Little Dorrit that she had + not seen Mr F.‘s Aunt so full of life and character for weeks; that she + would find it necessary to remain there ‘hours perhaps,’ until the + inexorable old lady could be softened; and that she could manage her best + alone. They parted, therefore, in the friendliest manner, and with the + kindest feeling on both sides. + </p> + <p> + Mr F.‘s Aunt holding out like a grim fortress, and Flora becoming in need + of refreshment, a messenger was despatched to the hotel for the tumbler + already glanced at, which was afterwards replenished. With the aid of its + content, a newspaper, and some skimming of the cream of the pie-stock, + Flora got through the remainder of the day in perfect good humour; though + occasionally embarrassed by the consequences of an idle rumour which + circulated among the credulous infants of the neighbourhood, to the effect + that an old lady had sold herself to the pie-shop to be made up, and was + then sitting in the pie-shop parlour, declining to complete her contract. + This attracted so many young persons of both sexes, and, when the shades + of evening began to fall, occasioned so much interruption to the business, + that the merchant became very pressing in his proposals that Mr F.‘s Aunt + should be removed. A conveyance was accordingly brought to the door, + which, by the joint efforts of the merchant and Flora, this remarkable + woman was at last induced to enter; though not without even then putting + her head out of the window, and demanding to have him ‘brought for’ard’ + for the purpose originally mentioned. As she was observed at this time to + direct baleful glances towards the Marshalsea, it has been supposed that + this admirably consistent female intended by ‘him,’ Arthur Clennam. This, + however, is mere speculation; who the person was, who, for the + satisfaction of Mr F.‘s Aunt’s mind, ought to have been brought forward + and never was brought forward, will never be positively known. + </p> + <p> + The autumn days went on, and Little Dorrit never came to the Marshalsea + now and went away without seeing him. No, no, no. + </p> + <p> + One morning, as Arthur listened for the light feet that every morning + ascended winged to his heart, bringing the heavenly brightness of a new + love into the room where the old love had wrought so hard and been so + true; one morning, as he listened, he heard her coming, not alone. + </p> + <p> + ‘Dear Arthur,’ said her delighted voice outside the door, ‘I have some one + here. May I bring some one in?’ + </p> + <p> + He had thought from the tread there were two with her. He answered ‘Yes,’ + and she came in with Mr Meagles. Sun-browned and jolly Mr Meagles looked, + and he opened his arms and folded Arthur in them, like a sun-browned and + jolly father. + </p> + <p> + ‘Now I am all right,’ said Mr Meagles, after a minute or so. ‘Now it’s + over. Arthur, my dear fellow, confess at once that you expected me + before.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I did,’ said Arthur; ‘but Amy told me—’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Little Dorrit. Never any other name.’ (It was she who whispered it.) + </p> + <p> + ‘—But my Little Dorrit told me that, without asking for any further + explanation, I was not to expect you until I saw you.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘And now you see me, my boy,’ said Mr Meagles, shaking him by the hand + stoutly; ‘and now you shall have any explanation and every explanation. + The fact is, I <i>was</i> here—came straight to you from the + Allongers and Marshongers, or I should be ashamed to look you in the face + this day,—but you were not in company trim at the moment, and I had + to start off again to catch Doyce.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Poor Doyce!’ sighed Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘Don’t call him names that he don’t deserve,’ said Mr Meagles. ‘<i>He’s</i> + not poor; <i>he’s</i> doing well enough. Doyce is a wonderful fellow over + there. I assure you he is making out his case like a house a-fire. He has + fallen on his legs, has Dan. Where they don’t want things done and find a + man to do ‘em, that man’s off his legs; but where they do want things done + and find a man to do ‘em, that man’s on his legs. You won’t have occasion + to trouble the Circumlocution Office any more. Let me tell you, Dan has + done without ‘em!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What a load you take from my mind!’ cried Arthur. ‘What happiness you + give me!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Happiness?’ retorted Mr Meagles. ‘Don’t talk about happiness till you see + Dan. I assure you Dan is directing works and executing labours over + yonder, that it would make your hair stand on end to look at. He’s no + public offender, bless you, now! He’s medalled and ribboned, and starred + and crossed, and I don’t-know-what all’d, like a born nobleman. But we + mustn’t talk about that over here.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why not?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Oh, egad!’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head very seriously, ‘he must + hide all those things under lock and key when he comes over here. They + won’t do over here. In that particular, Britannia is a Britannia in the + Manger—won’t give her children such distinctions herself, and won’t + allow them to be seen when they are given by other countries. No, no, + Dan!’ said Mr Meagles, shaking his head again. ‘That won’t do here!’ + </p> + <p> + ‘If you had brought me (except for Doyce’s sake) twice what I have lost,’ + cried Arthur, ‘you would not have given me the pleasure that you give me + in this news.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Why, of course, of course,’ assented Mr Meagles. ‘Of course I know that, + my good fellow, and therefore I come out with it in the first burst. Now, + to go back, about catching Doyce. I caught Doyce. Ran against him among a + lot of those dirty brown dogs in women’s nightcaps a great deal too big + for ‘em, calling themselves Arabs and all sorts of incoherent races. <i>You</i> + know ‘em! Well! He was coming straight to me, and I was going to him, and + so we came back together.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Doyce in England!’ exclaimed Arthur. + </p> + <p> + ‘There!’ said Mr Meagles, throwing open his arms. ‘I am the worst man in + the world to manage a thing of this sort. I don’t know what I should have + done if I had been in the diplomatic line—right, perhaps! The long + and short of it is, Arthur, we have both been in England this fortnight. + And if you go on to ask where Doyce is at the present moment, why, my + plain answer is—here he is! And now I can breathe again at last!’ + </p> + <p> + Doyce darted in from behind the door, caught Arthur by both hands, and + said the rest for himself. + </p> + <p> + ‘There are only three branches of my subject, my dear Clennam,’ said + Doyce, proceeding to mould them severally, with his plastic thumb, on the + palm of his hand, ‘and they’re soon disposed of. First, not a word more + from you about the past. There was an error in your calculations. I know + what that is. It affects the whole machine, and failure is the + consequence. You will profit by the failure, and will avoid it another + time. I have done a similar thing myself, in construction, often. Every + failure teaches a man something, if he will learn; and you are too + sensible a man not to learn from this failure. So much for firstly. + Secondly. I was sorry you should have taken it so heavily to heart, and + reproached yourself so severely; I was travelling home night and day to + put matters right, with the assistance of our friend, when I fell in with + our friend as he has informed you. Thirdly. We two agreed, that, after + what you had undergone, after your distress of mind, and after your + illness, it would be a pleasant surprise if we could so far keep quiet as + to get things perfectly arranged without your knowledge, and then come and + say that all the affairs were smooth, that everything was right, that the + business stood in greater want of you than ever it did, and that a new and + prosperous career was opened before you and me as partners. That’s + thirdly. But you know we always make an allowance for friction, and so I + have reserved space to close in. My dear Clennam, I thoroughly confide in + you; you have it in your power to be quite as useful to me as I have, or + have had, it in my power to be useful to you; your old place awaits you, + and wants you very much; there is nothing to detain you here one half-hour + longer.’ + </p> + <p> + There was silence, which was not broken until Arthur had stood for some + time at the window with his back towards them, and until his little wife + that was to be had gone to him and stayed by him. + </p> + <p> + ‘I made a remark a little while ago,’ said Daniel Doyce then, ‘which I am + inclined to think was an incorrect one. I said there was nothing to detain + you here, Clennam, half an hour longer. Am I mistaken in supposing that + you would rather not leave here till to-morrow morning? Do I know, without + being very wise, where you would like to go, direct from these walls and + from this room?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘You do,’ returned Arthur. ‘It has been our cherished purpose.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Very well!’ said Doyce. ‘Then, if this young lady will do me the honour + of regarding me for four-and-twenty hours in the light of a father, and + will take a ride with me now towards Saint Paul’s Churchyard, I dare say I + know what we want to get there.’ + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit and he went out together soon afterwards, and Mr Meagles + lingered behind to say a word to his friend. + </p> + <p> + ‘I think, Arthur, you will not want Mother and me in the morning and we + will keep away. It might set Mother thinking about Pet; she’s a + soft-hearted woman. She’s best at the Cottage, and I’ll stay there and + keep her company.’ + </p> + <p> + With that they parted for the time. And the day ended, and the night + ended, and the morning came, and Little Dorrit, simply dressed as usual + and having no one with her but Maggy, came into the prison with the + sunshine. The poor room was a happy room that morning. Where in the world + was there a room so full of quiet joy! + </p> + <p> + ‘My dear love,’ said Arthur. ‘Why does Maggy light the fire? We shall be + gone directly.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘I asked her to do it. I have taken such an odd fancy. I want you to burn + something for me.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘What?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Only this folded paper. If you will put it in the fire with your own + hand, just as it is, my fancy will be gratified.’ + </p> + <p> + ‘Superstitious, darling Little Dorrit? Is it a charm?’ + </p> + <p> + ‘It is anything you like best, my own,’ she answered, laughing with + glistening eyes and standing on tiptoe to kiss him, ‘if you will only + humour me when the fire burns up.’ + </p> + <p> + So they stood before the fire, waiting: Clennam with his arm about her + waist, and the fire shining, as fire in that same place had often shone, + in Little Dorrit’s eyes. ‘Is it bright enough now?’ said Arthur. ‘Quite + bright enough now,’ said Little Dorrit. ‘Does the charm want any words to + be said?’ asked Arthur, as he held the paper over the flame. ‘You can say + (if you don’t mind) “I love you!”’ answered Little Dorrit. So he said it, + and the paper burned away. + </p> + <p> + They passed very quietly along the yard; for no one was there, though many + heads were stealthily peeping from the windows. Only one face, familiar of + old, was in the Lodge. When they had both accosted it, and spoken many + kind words, Little Dorrit turned back one last time with her hand + stretched out, saying, ‘Good-bye, good John! I hope you will live very + happy, dear!’ + </p> + <p> + Then they went up the steps of the neighbouring Saint George’s Church, and + went up to the altar, where Daniel Doyce was waiting in his paternal + character. And there was Little Dorrit’s old friend who had given her the + Burial Register for a pillow; full of admiration that she should come back + to them to be married, after all. + </p> + <p> + And they were married with the sun shining on them through the painted + figure of Our Saviour on the window. And they went into the very room + where Little Dorrit had slumbered after her party, to sign the Marriage + Register. And there, Mr Pancks, (destined to be chief clerk to Doyce and + Clennam, and afterwards partner in the house), sinking the Incendiary in + the peaceful friend, looked in at the door to see it done, with Flora + gallantly supported on one arm and Maggy on the other, and a back-ground + of John Chivery and father and other turnkeys who had run round for the + moment, deserting the parent Marshalsea for its happy child. Nor had Flora + the least signs of seclusion upon her, notwithstanding her recent + declaration; but, on the contrary, was wonderfully smart, and enjoyed the + ceremonies mightily, though in a fluttered way. + </p> + <p> + Little Dorrit’s old friend held the inkstand as she signed her name, and + the clerk paused in taking off the good clergyman’s surplice, and all the + witnesses looked on with special interest. ‘For, you see,’ said Little + Dorrit’s old friend, ‘this young lady is one of our curiosities, and has + come now to the third volume of our Registers. Her birth is in what I call + the first volume; she lay asleep, on this very floor, with her pretty head + on what I call the second volume; and she’s now a-writing her little name + as a bride in what I call the third volume.’ + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> + <img src="images/0726m.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="0726m "><br> + </div> + <h5> + <a href="images/0726.jpg" style="width:100%;" ><i>Original</i></a> + </h5> + <p> + They all gave place when the signing was done, and Little Dorrit and her + husband walked out of the church alone. They paused for a moment on the + steps of the portico, looking at the fresh perspective of the street in + the autumn morning sun’s bright rays, and then went down. + </p> + <p> + Went down into a modest life of usefulness and happiness. Went down to + give a mother’s care, in the fulness of time, to Fanny’s neglected + children no less than to their own, and to leave that lady going into + Society for ever and a day. Went down to give a tender nurse and friend to + Tip for some few years, who was never vexed by the great exactions he made + of her in return for the riches he might have given her if he had ever had + them, and who lovingly closed his eyes upon the Marshalsea and all its + blighted fruits. They went quietly down into the roaring streets, + inseparable and blessed; and as they passed along in sunshine and shade, + the noisy and the eager, and the arrogant and the froward and the vain, + fretted and chafed, and made their usual uproar. + </p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE DORRIT ***</div> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/963-h/images/0008.jpg b/963-h/images/0008.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5dbd3d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/963-h/images/0008.jpg diff --git a/963-h/images/0008m.jpg b/963-h/images/0008m.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f422a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/963-h/images/0008m.jpg diff --git a/963-h/images/0009.jpg b/963-h/images/0009.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3620b8a --- /dev/null +++ b/963-h/images/0009.jpg diff --git a/963-h/images/0009m.jpg b/963-h/images/0009m.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..67bd25a --- 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