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-4:‘ I ‘V LITTL‘E.fDORRIT.... -,.
father, and even when I am out at work I‘liurry-‘home
toiliim. I ‘-But I pretend to-night thntrl am at a party.”
-“As -‘she’ made‘ the confession,‘ timidly hesitating, Ishe
raised her eyes to the face, and-‘ read its-expressionrso
plainly that she answered it. ’ i 7 - ‘ - ' = 4 ‘ "I '
"“' .“ Ohno, certainly I ‘ I never was at a party in my life.”
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 it little.”
' She feared that he was blaming her in his mind, for so
devising to contrive for them, think forthem, and watch
over them, without their knowledge or gratitude ’; per-
haps even with their reproaclies for supposed neglect.
’But ‘what was really in his mind, was the weak figure
with its strong purpose. the thin’ worn shoes, the insuiii-
cient dress, and the pretence of recreation and enjoyment.
He asked where the supposititious 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
iherrfather 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 shawlslie wore.-
-‘ “It isthe 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 vast-
ness nnder the black sky was awful ; a. tremour passed
over her as she said the words.
“ But this is not,” she added,with the quiet effort again,
“ w]iat‘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 pur-
pose) round by where you lived, and seeing a light in the
window-” ' " ' ’
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
4
"out of her way,‘ tired and troubled. to look up at it, and
‘ wonder about the grave, brown gentleman from so far off,
who hadspoken to her as a friend and protector. ‘
I ‘fThere were three things,” said Little Dorrit, “ that I
thought I would like to say, if you were alone and I might
mnie up-stairs.‘ First, what I have tried to say, but never
‘ca'n4never shall'--’’ ‘ '
“ llush, hush I ‘ That is done with, and‘ disposed of.
L‘et‘11slpass‘to'tl1e second," said Clennnm, smiling her
agitation away,’m:iking' the blaze shine upon her,-and
putting wine and cake and fruit towards her on the table.
“ I think,” said Little Dorrit-‘-“,this is the‘ second
thing, sir-I think Mrs.’ Clennam must have found out my
sec"rct,‘a'iid must kiiowi where I come from and where I
go to. ‘Vliere Ilive, I mean.”
“ Indeed?” returned Clennam, quickly.’ He asked her,
after a short consideration, why she supposed so. ‘ "
“ I think,” replied Little Dorri t, “that Mr. Flintwinch
mustliave watched uie.”< ' ‘
And why, Clennain asked, as he turned his eyes upon
the fire, bent his brows, and considered again ; why did
she suppose that? p ' ' I ’
“ I have met him twice. Both times near home.‘ Both
times at night, when -I‘ was ‘going back. Both times I
tliought (though that may easily be my mistake), that he
hardly looked as if he had met me by accident.” '
“ Did he say anytliing? " p >
e‘, If‘ No ;‘ he only nodded and put his head on one side."
‘ i " The devil take his head I ” mused Clennam, still look-
ing at the fire ; “ it’s always on one side.” ’ ‘
- f He roused himself to persuade her to put some wine to
her lips, and to touch something to eat-it was very diffi-
eult; she was so-timid and shy-and then said, musing
again : i ,
‘ “Is my mother at all changed to you?”
’ “ Oh,‘ not at all; She’ isijust the same. I wondered
wliether'I- had better tell herniy history. -I wondered
whether I might-I inean,‘ whether you would like me to
tell her. 7 Iwondcred," said‘Little Dorrit,‘1ooking at him
in a suppliant way,‘ and "gradually withdrawing her eyes
as lie looked at her, “ whether you would advise me what
to. o',',...‘,,;,.,, ,. . . , . . ,, .,
‘ 5 “ Little Dorrit,” said‘ Clennam ; and the phrase had al-
ready‘ begun, between those two, to stand for a hundred
'gentle1'plirases,‘-‘according to the varying tone and‘ con-.
763
nexion in which it was, used ; “ do nothing. I will have
some talk with my old friend, Mrs. Afiery. Do nothing,
Little Dorrit-except refresh yourself with such means
asvthere are here. I entreat you to do that.”
“. Thank you,’ I am not hungry. ‘Nor,’-’ said Little Dor-
rit, as he softly put her glass towards her, “nor thirsty
-I think Maggie might like something, perli'aps."' .
“ VVe 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.” “ ‘ "-
i “ Yes. You will not be offended, sir?”
. “ I promise that, unreservedly.” " V ‘ ‘ ‘
“ 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. <‘
“ No, no, no. I am sure it will be natural and right.
I amlnot afraid that Ishall put a wrong construction on
it, w iatever it is.” '
“ Tliaiik you. You are coming back to see my father
again ? i
ll Eves.” 3
‘IYOIX have been so good and thoughtful as to write
him a note,.snying‘that‘ you are coming to-n1oi'row?” v’
‘f Oh, that was nothing I Yes.”
“ 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 amrl going to ask you not to do? ”
“ I think I can. But I may be wron .’’r ‘
“ No,’ you are not wroncgl,” said Little Dorrit, shaking
her head. “‘ If we slioul ‘want it so very, very badly
that we cannot do without it, let me ask you for it.”
“ I will,’-I will.”
“ Don’t encourage him to ask. Don’t understand him,
if he. does ask. Don’t give it to him. "Save him and
spare liim that, and you will be able I to think better of
mu ‘ 1 1 ‘ v
plennani said-not very plainly, seeing those ’ tears
glisteniii In her anxious eyes-that her wish sliouid be
sacred with him. i - a
“You don’t know what he is,” she said; “ ‘on don't
know what he really is. Ilow can you, seein iim there
all at once, dear love, and not gradually, as I are done I
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 hear 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 I” ‘
‘.‘ Pray,” said Clcnnam, “ do not. be so -distressed.
Pray,’ pray, Little Dorrit I This is quite understood
now.
‘f Thank you, sir. Tliniik you! Ihave tried very
much to keep myself from saying this ; I have thought
aboutit, days and nights ; but when I knew for certain
you were coming again, I made up my ‘mind to speak to
you. hot because 1 am ashamed of him," she dried her
tears quickly. “ but because I know him better than any
oiiedoes, and love him, and am proud of him.’’- " ‘
Relieved of this weight, Little Dorrit was nervously
alnxious ti;-1:16: gone]. Maggy being blroad awake, and] in
tie act 0 istant loatin over tie fruit and ca res
with chuckles of ffnllcipatilin, Clciinain made the best
diversion in ‘his power by pouring her out a glass of
wine, which she drank in a series of loud smacks ; put-
tiii her hand iipoirlier windpipe after every one, and
saying, breathless, with her eyes in a pI'0l1’1ll'l‘B‘IYl1l: statlf,
“ Oh ain’t it d’liciousI Ain’t it hospitally I’ ’ A on s o
had finished the wine and these encomiiims, he charged
her to load her basket (she was never without her bas-
ket) witlrevery 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 circuinsiances
could have iven to the late conversation. ‘ ' i ' Y
“ But tlieggates will have been locked long ago,” said
Cleniiain, suddenly 'reinenil>erhig it. “Where are you
oiii0‘?”" " ' " 3
g “I, am"going to ’Ma;:gy’s lodging," answered Little
Dori-it. ‘ ', “ I shall be quite safe, quite well taken care of.”
“TI must accompany you there,” said Clennain. “I
cannot let you go alone." ’ ‘ ' .‘ -‘