"I have not observed it, dear."
"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!"
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 a.s.sociation were so strong that he needed a.s.surance 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.
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.
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 a.s.sociation, 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 encompa.s.sed 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.
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 pa.s.sed to her at once, and asked how she was.
"She is very well. She is going away next week."
"Home?" asked Mr Dorrit.
"After a few weeks" stay upon the road."
"She will be a vast loss here," said Mr Dorrit. "A vast--ha--acquisition at home. To f.a.n.n.y, and to--hum--the rest of the--ha--great world."
Little Dorrit thought of the compet.i.tion that was to be entered upon, and a.s.sented very softly.
"Mrs Merdle is going to have a great farewell a.s.sembly, 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."
"She is--ha--very kind. When is the day?"
"The day after to-morrow."
"Write round in the morning, and say that I have returned, and shall--hum--be delighted."
"May I walk with you up the stairs to your room, dear?"
"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 YOU, 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.
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. 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.
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.
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."
"Mr Frederick, sir," quoth Mrs General, "is habitually absent and drooping, but let us hope it is not so bad as that."
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!"
"You left Mrs Sparkler quite well and happy, I trust?" said Mrs General, after heaving a cool sigh for Frederick.
"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."
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.
"f.a.n.n.y," Mr Dorrit continued. "f.a.n.n.y, Mrs General, has high qualities. Ha. Ambition--hum--purpose, consciousness of--ha--position, determination to support that position--ha, hum--grace, beauty, and native n.o.bility."
"No doubt," said Mrs General (with a little extra stiffness).
"Combined with these qualities, madam," said Mr Dorrit, "f.a.n.n.y 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."
"To what, Mr Dorrit," returned Mrs General, with her gloves again somewhat excited, "can you allude? I am at a loss to--"
"Do not say that, my dear madam," interrupted Mr Dorrit.
Mrs General"s voice, as it died away, p.r.o.nounced the words, "at a loss to imagine."
After which Mr Dorrit was seized with a doze for about a minute, out of which he sprang with spasmodic nimbleness.
"I refer, Mrs General, to that--ha--strong spirit of opposition, or--hum--I might say--ha--jealousy in f.a.n.n.y, 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."
"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."
"Opinion of your services, madam?" said Mr Dorrit.
"Of," Mrs General repeated, in an elegantly impressive manner, "my services."
"Of your services alone, dear madam?" said Mr Dorrit.
"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--"
"To--ha--yourself, Mrs General. Ha, hum. To yourself and your merits,"
was Mr Dorrit"s rejoinder.
"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."
"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." "Mr Dorrit,"
said Mrs General, casting down her eyes as she rose with a bend, "must ever claim my homage and obedience."
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.
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.
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.
It was princ.i.p.ally 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 sc.r.a.p 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."
She was hurrying to him, un.o.bserved, when he got up out of his chair, and leaning over the table called to her, supposing her to be still in her place: