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or treacherous to you。 I do not understand you。'
John's incredulous face slowly softened into a face of doubt。 He rose；
backed into the garret…window of the room； beckoned Arthur to e
there； and stood looking at him thoughtfully。 'Mr Clennam； do you mean
to say that you don't know？'
'What； John？'
'Lord；' said Young John； appealing with a gasp to the spikes on the
wall。 'He says； What！'
Clennam looked at the spikes； and looked at John； and looked at the
spikes； and looked at John。
'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？'
'Of course I see this window。'
'See this room？'
'Why； of course I see this room。'
'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！'
'Witnesses of what？' said Clennam。
'Of Miss Dorrit's love。'
'For whom？'
'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。
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 prehension。
'Me！' he at length said aloud。
'Ah！' groaned Young John。 'You！'
He did what he could to muster a smile； and returned； 'Your fancy。 You
are pletely mistaken。'
'I mistaken； sir！' said Young John。 '_I_ pletely 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 perating character； and am well aware of
my own deficiencies。 But； _I_ mistaken on a point that has caused me
more smart in my breast than a flight of savages' arrows could have
done！ _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
patible 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…handkercher 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！'
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。
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 e out no more that night。
John assented； and he crept back in the shadow of the wall to his own
lodging。
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。
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。
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。
Consider the improbability。
But it had a preponderating tendency； when considered； to bee
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？
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？
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 e
up…ards when his turn e； that gentleman's air would be a pleasure to
look upon being all smooth again； and wery well then！
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。
'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。'
While speaking； Mrs Plornish shook her head； and wiped her eyes； and
looked retrospectively about the room。
'As to Mr Baptist；' pursued Mrs Plornish； 'whatever he'll do when he
es 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。'
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 acplishments as a linguist。
'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。'
Arthur thought she looked at him with particular expression。
'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。'
Of a certainty Mrs Plornish did look at him now； with a sort of
quivering defiance in her friendly emotion。
'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。'
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。
Little Dorrit； Little Dorrit。 Again； for hours。 Always Little Dorrit！
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
forted 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。
Dear Little Dorrit。
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。
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 peacef