little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第31章

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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　eniums；　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。

'But　the　gates　will　have　been　locked　long　ago；'　said　Clennam；　suddenly
remembering　it。　'Where　are　you　going？'

'I　am　going　to　Maggy's　lodging；'　answered　Little　Dorrit。　'I　shall　be
quite　safe；　quite　well　taken　care　of。'

'I　must　acpany　you　there；'　said　Clennam；　'I　cannot　let　you　go　alone。'

'Yes；　pray　leave　us　to　go　there　by　ourselves。　Pray　do！'　begged　Little
Dorrit。

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。　'e；　Maggy；'　said
Little　Dorrit　cheerily；　'we　shall　do　very　well；　we　know　the　way　by　this
time；　Maggy？'

'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。

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　passion；　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。

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。

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。'

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。'

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。'

The　gate　was　so　familiar；　and　so　like　a　panion；　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。　e　away！'　Maggy
would　then　wake　up　more　or　less　fretfully；　and　they　would　wander　about　a
little；　and　e　back　again。

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。

'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。

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！'

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。

'What　are　you　doing　with　the　child？'　she　said　to　Maggy。

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。　'What　are
you　doing　with　yourself？'　retorted　Maggy；　for　want　Of　a　better　answer。

'Can't　you　see；　without　my　telling　you？'

'I　don't　know　as　I　can；'　said　Maggy。

'Killing　myself！　Now　I　have　answered　you；　answer　me。　What　are　you　doing
with　the　child？'

The　supposed　child　kept　her　head　drooped　down；　and　kept　her　form　close
at　Maggy's　side。

'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？'

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。'

Little　Dorrit　turned　towards　her。

'Why；　my　God！'　she　said；　recoiling；　'you're　a　woman！'

'Don't　mind　that！'　said　Little　Dorrit；　clasping　one　of　her　hands　that
had　suddenly　released　hers。　'I　am　not　afraid　of　you。'

'Then　you　had　better　be；'　she　answered。　'Have　you　no　mother？'

'No。'

'No　father？'

'Yes；　a　very　dear　one。'

'Go　home　to　him；　and　be　afraid　of　me。　Let　me　go。　Good　night！'

'I　must　thank　you　first；　let　me　speak　to　you　as　if　I　really　were　a
child。'

'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。

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　ing　day　in　the
flaring　lights；　with　a　feebler　colour　in　them　than　they　would　have　had
at　another　time；　ing　day　in　the　increased　sharpness　of　the　air；　and
the　ghastly　dying　of　the　night。

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。

'Who's　that？'　cried　a　stout　old　man；　who　was　putting　on　a　nightcap　as　if
he　were　going　to　bed　in　a　vault。

'It's　no　one　particular；　sir；'　said　Little　Dorrit。

'Stop！'　cried　the　man。　'Let's　have　a　look　at　you！'

This　caused　her　to　turn　back　again　in　the　act　of　going　out；　and　to
present　herself　and　her　charge　before　him。

'I　thought　so！'　said　he。　'I　know　YOU。'

'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。'

'More　than　that；　we've　got　your　birth　in　our　Register；　you　know；　you're
one　of　our　curiosities。'

'Indeed！'　said　Little　Dorrit。

'To　be　sure。　As　the　child　of　the……by…the…bye；　how　did　you　get　out　so
early？'

'We　were　shut　out　last　night；　and　are　waiting　to　get　in。'

'You　don't　mean　it？　And　there's　another　hour　good　yet！　e　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　fortable。　e　along。'

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？'

'Quite　true；　till　last　night。'　'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'll　call　you。'

He　soon　brought　in　the　cushions；　and　strewed　them　on　the　ground。

'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
ing；　you　know；　and　when。　That's　the　interesting　question。'

mendingly　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。

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。




CHAPTER　15。　Mrs　Flintwinch　has　another　Dream


The　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　me