little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第207部分

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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　wr