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.
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.
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.
"Mr Clennam, Amy," said her uncle, "has been expecting you some time."
"I took the liberty of sending you a message."
"I received the message, sir."
"Are you going to my mother"s this morning? I think not, for it is past your usual hour." "Not to-day, sir. I am not wanted to-day."
"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."
She looked embarra.s.sed, 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.
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 d.i.c.k. 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.
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.
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.
"I am sorry to hear you were so inconvenienced last night, sir, as to be locked in. It was very unfortunate."
It was nothing, he returned. He had had a very good bed.
"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. "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.
"Were you ever there?"
"Oh no! Only into the kitchen to fetch hot water."
To think of growing up with a kind of awe upon one as to the luxuries of that superb establishment, the Marshalsea Hotel!
"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?"
"No, sir."
"Do you think your father ever did?"
"No, sir."
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:
"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?"
"No, sir."
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 embarra.s.sing her afresh.
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.
"Let me put you in a coach," said Clennam, very nearly adding "my poor child."
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. "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.
"To say to me--?"
"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."
"My thoughts will never be unjust or harsh towards him, believe me."
"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."
If ever pride were innocent, it was innocent in Little Dorrit when she grew boastful of her father.
"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!"
What affection in her words, what compa.s.sion in her repressed tears, what a great soul of fidelity within her, how true the light that shed false brightness round him!
"If I have found it best to conceal where my home is, it is not because I am ashamed of him. G.o.d 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."
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."
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.
"I feel permitted now," he said, "to ask you a little more concerning your father. Has he many creditors?"
"Oh! a great number."
"I mean detaining creditors, who keep him where he is?"
"Oh yes! a great number."
"Can you tell me--I can get the information, no doubt, elsewhere, if you cannot--who is the most influential of them?"
Little Dorrit said, after considering a little, that she used to hear long ago of Mr t.i.te 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 Circ.u.mlocution Office. She appeared to have acquired, in her infancy, some awful impression of the might of this formidable Mr t.i.te Barnacle of Grosvenor Square, or very near it, and the Circ.u.mlocution Office, which quite crushed her when she mentioned him.
"It can do no harm," thought Arthur, "if I see this Mr t.i.te Barnacle."
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."