第 102 页

herself, she will know it when I am married. And I hope you will not

consider me wanting in affection for you, papa, if I say it strikes me

that will be quite enough for Mrs General.'

'Fanny,' returned Mr Dorrit, 'I am amazed, I am displeased by

this--hum--this capricious and unintelligible display of animosity

towards--ha--Mrs General.'

'Do not, if you please, papa,' urged Fanny, 'call it animosity, because

I assure you I do not consider Mrs General worth my animosity.'

At this, Mr Dorrit rose from his chair with a fixed look of severe

reproof, and remained standing in his dignity before his daughter. His

daughter, turning the bracelet on her arm, and now looking at him, and

now looking from him, said, 'Very well, papa. I am truly sorry if you

don't like it; but I can't help it. I am not a child, and I am not Amy,

and I must speak.'

'Fanny,' gasped Mr Dorrit, after a majestic silence, 'if I request

you to remain here, while I formally announce to Mrs General, as

an exemplary lady, who is--hum--a trusted member of this family,

the--ha--the change that is contemplated among us; if I--ha--not only

request it, but--hum--insist upon it--'

'Oh, papa,' Fanny broke in with pointed significance, 'if you make so

much of it as that, I have in duty nothing to do but comply. I hope I

may have my thoughts upon the subject, however, for I really cannot help

it under the circumstances.'So, Fanny sat down with a meekness which,

in the junction of extremes, became defiance; and her father, either not

deigning to answer, or not knowing what to answer, summoned Mr Tinkler

into his presence.

'Mrs General.'

Mr Tinkler, unused to receive such short orders in connection with the

fair varnisher, paused. Mr Dorrit, seeing the whole Marshalsea and all

its testimonials in the pause, instantly flew at him with, 'How dare

you, sir? What do you mean?'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' pleaded Mr Tinkler, 'I was wishful to know--'

'You wished to know nothing, sir,' cried Mr Dorrit, highly flushed.

'Don't tell me you did. Ha. You didn't. You are guilty of mockery, sir.'

'I assure you, sir--' Mr Tinkler began.

'Don't assure me!' said Mr Dorrit. 'I will not be assured by a

domestic. You are guilty of mockery. You shall leave me--hum--the whole

establishment shall leave me. What are you waiting for?'

'Only for my orders, sir.'

'It's false,' said Mr Dorrit, 'you have your orders. Ha--hum. MY

compliments to Mrs General, and I beg the favour of her coming to me, if

quite convenient, for a few minutes. Those are your orders.'

In his execution of this mission, Mr Tinkler perhaps expressed that Mr

Dorrit was in a raging fume. However that was, Mrs General's skirts were

very speedily heard outside, coming along--one might almost have said

bouncing along--with unusual expedition. Albeit, they settled down at

the door and swept into the room with their customary coolness.

'Mrs General,' said Mr Dorrit, 'take a chair.'

Mrs General, with a graceful curve of acknowledgment, descended into the

chair which Mr Dorrit offered.

'Madam,' pursued that gentleman, 'as you have had the kindness to

undertake the--hum--formation of my daughters, and as I am persuaded

that nothing nearly affecting them can--ha--be indifferent to you--'

'Wholly impossible,' said Mrs General in the calmest of ways.

'--I therefore wish to announce to you, madam, that my daughter now

present--'

Mrs General made a slight inclination of her head to Fanny, who made

a very low inclination of her head to Mrs General, and came loftily

upright again.

'--That my daughter Fanny is--ha--contracted to be married to Mr

Sparkler, with whom you are acquainted. Hence, madam, you will be

relieved of half your difficult charge--ha--difficult charge.' Mr

Dorrit repeated it with his angry eye on Fanny. 'But not, I hope, to

the--hum--diminution of any other portion, direct or indirect, of the

footing you have at present the kindness to occupy in my family.'

'Mr Dorrit,' returned Mrs General, with her gloved hands resting on

one another in exemplary repose, 'is ever considerate, and ever but too

appreciative of my friendly services.'

(Miss Fanny coughed, as much as to say, 'You are right.')

'Miss Dorrit has no doubt exercised the soundest discretion of which

the circumstances admitted, and I trust will allow me to offer her my

sincere congratulations. When free from the trammels of passion,' Mrs

General closed her eyes at the word, as if she could not utter it, and

see anybody; 'when occurring with the approbation of near relatives;

and when cementing the proud structure of a family edifice; these are

usually auspicious events.

I trust Miss Dorrit will allow me to offer her my best congratulations.'

Here Mrs General stopped, and added internally, for the setting of her

face, 'Papa, potatoes, poultry, Prunes, and prism.'

'Mr Dorrit,' she superadded aloud, 'is ever most obliging; and for

the attention, and I will add distinction, of having this confidence

imparted to me by himself and Miss Dorrit at this early time, I beg to

offer the tribute of my thanks. My thanks, and my congratulations, are

equally the meed of Mr Dorrit and of Miss Dorrit.'

'To me,' observed Miss Fanny, 'they are excessively

gratifying--inexpressibly so. The relief of finding that you have no

objection to make, Mrs General, quite takes a load off my mind, I am

sure. I hardly know what I should have done,' said Fanny, 'if you had

interposed any objection, Mrs General.'

Mrs General changed her gloves, as to the right glove being uppermost

and the left undermost, with a Prunes and Prism smile.

'To preserve your approbation, Mrs General,' said Fanny, returning the

smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, 'will

of course be the highest object of my married life; to lose it, would of

course be perfect wretchedness. I am sure your great kindness will

not object, and I hope papa will not object, to my correcting a

small mistake you have made, however. The best of us are so liable to

mistakes, that even you, Mrs General, have fallen into a little error.

The attention and distinction you have so impressively mentioned, Mrs

General, as attaching to this confidence, are, I have no doubt, of the

most complimentary and gratifying description; but they don't at all

proceed from me. The merit of having consulted you on the subject would

have been so great in me, that I feel I must not lay claim to it when it

really is not mine. It is wholly papa's. I am deeply obliged to you for

your encouragement and patronage, but it was papa who asked for it.

I have to thank you, Mrs General, for relieving my breast of a great

weight by so handsomely giving your consent to my engagement, but you

have really nothing to thank me for. I hope you will always approve of

my proceedings after I have left home and that my sister also may long

remain the favoured object of your condescension, Mrs General.'

With this address, which was delivered in her politest manner, Fanny

left the room with an elegant and cheerful air--to tear up-stairs with

a flushed face as soon as she was out of hearing, pounce in upon her

sister, call her a little Dormouse, shake her for the better opening of

her eyes, tell her what had passed below, and ask her what she thought

of Pa now?

Towards Mrs Merdle, the young lady comported herself with great

independence and self-possession; but not as yet with any more decided

opening of hostilities. Occasionally they had a slight skirmish, as when

Fanny considered herself patted on the back by that lady, or as when Mrs

Merdle looked particularly young and well; but Mrs Merdle always soon

terminated those passages of arms by sinking among her cushions with the

gracefullest indifference, and finding her attention otherwise engaged.

Society (for that mysterious creature sat upon the Seven Hills too)

found Miss Fanny vastly improved by her engagement. She was much more

accessible, much more free and engaging, much less exacting; insomuch

that she now entertained a host of followers and admirers, to the bitter

indignation of ladies with daughters to marry, who were to be regarded

as Having revolted from Society on the Miss Dorrit grievance, and

erected a rebellious standard. Enjoying the flutter she caused. Miss

Dorrit not only haughtily moved through it in her own proper person, but

haughtily, even Ostentatiously, led Mr Sparkler through it too: seeming

to say to them all, 'If I think proper to march among you in triumphal

procession attended by this weak captive in bonds, rather than a

stronger one, that is my business. Enough that I choose to do it!' Mr

Sparkler for his part, questioned nothing; but went wherever he was

taken, did whatever he was told, felt that for his bride-elect to be

distinguished was for him to be distinguished on the easiest terms, and

was truly grateful for being so openly acknowledged.

The winter passing on towards the spring while this condition of affairs

prevailed, it became necessary for Mr Sparkler to repair to England, and

take his appointed part in the expression and direction of its genius,

learning, commerce, spirit, and sense. The land of Shakespeare, Milton,

Bacon, Newton, Watt, the land of a host of past and present abstract

philosophers, natural philosophers, and subduers of Nature and Art in

their myriad forms, called to Mr Sparkler to come and take care of it,

lest it should perish. Mr Sparkler, unable to resist the agonised cry

from the depths of his country's soul, declared that he must go.

It followed that the question was rendered pressing when, where, and

how Mr Sparkler should be married to the foremost girl in all this world

with no nonsense about her. Its solution, after some little mystery and

secrecy, Miss Fanny herself announced to her sister.

'Now, my child,' said she, seeking her out one day, 'I am going to tell

you something. It is only this moment broached; and naturally I hurry to

you the moment it IS broached.'

'Your marriage, Fanny?'

'My precious child,' said Fanny, 'don't anticipate me. Let me impart my

confidence to you, you flurried little thing, in my own way. As to your

guess, if I answered it literally, I should answer no. For really it is

not my marriage that is in question, half as much as it is Edmund's.'

Little Dorrit looked, and perhaps not altogether without cause, somewhat

at a loss to understand this fine distinction.

'I am in no difficulty,' exclaimed Fanny, 'and in no hurry. I am not

wanted at any public office, or to give any vote anywhere else.

But Edmund is. And Edmund is deeply dejected at the idea of going away

by himself, and, indeed, I don't like that he should be trusted by

himself. For, if it's possible--and it generally is--to do a foolish

thing, he is sure to do it.'

As she concluded this impartial summary of the reliance that might be

safely placed upon her future husband, she took off, with an air of

business, the bonnet she wore, and dangled it by its strings upon the

ground.

'It is far more Edmund's question, therefore, than mine. However, we

need say no more about that. That is self-evident on the face of it.

Well, my dearest Amy! The point arising, is he to go by himself, or is

he not to go by himself, this other point arises, are we to be married

here and shortly, or are we to be married at home months hence?'

'I see I am going to lose you, Fanny.'

'What a little thing you are,' cried Fanny, half tolerant and half

impatient, 'for anticipating one! Pray, my darling, hear me out. That

woman,' she spoke of Mrs Merdle, of course, 'remains here until after

Easter; so, in the case of my being married here and going to London

with Edmund, I should have the start of her. That is something. Further,

Amy. That woman being out of the way, I don't know that I greatly object

to Mr Merdle's proposal to Pa that Edmund and I should take up our abode

in that house--you know--where you once went with a dancer, my dear,

until our own house can be chosen and fitted up. Further still, Amy.

Papa having always intended to go to town himself, in the spring,--you

see, if Edmund and I were married here, we might go off to Florence,

where papa might join us, and we might all three travel home together.

Mr Merdle has entreated Pa to stay with him in that same mansion I have

mentioned, and I suppose he will. But he is master of his own actions;

and upon that point (which is not at all material) I can't speak

positively.' The difference between papa's being master of his own

actions and Mr Sparkler's being nothing of the sort, was forcibly

expressed by Fanny in her manner of stating the case. Not that her

sister noticed it; for she was divided between regret at the coming

separation, and a lingering wish that she had been included in the plans

for visiting England.

'And these are the arrangements, Fanny dear?'

'Arrangements!' repeated Fanny. 'Now, really, child, you are a little

trying. You know I particularly guarded myself against laying my words

open to any such construction. What I said was, that certain questions

present themselves; and these are the questions.'

Little Dorrit's thoughtful eyes met hers, tenderly and quietly.

'Now, my own sweet girl,' said Fanny, weighing her bonnet by the strings

with considerable impatience, 'it's no use staring. A little owl could

stare. I look to you for advice, Amy. What do you advise me to do?'

'Do you think,' asked Little Dorrit, persuasively, after a short