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long enough, in this freezing silence and solitude, if one went to bed

two hours hence.'

Throwing back his head in emptying his glass, he cast his eyes upon the

travellers' book, which lay on the piano, open, with pens and ink beside

it, as if the night's names had been registered when he was absent.

Taking it in his hand, he read these entries.

William Dorrit, Esquire

Frederick Dorrit, Esquire

Edward Dorrit, Esquire

Miss Dorrit

Miss Amy Dorrit

Mrs General

and Suite.

From France to Italy.

Mr and Mrs Henry Gowan.

From France to Italy.

To which he added, in a small complicated hand, ending with a long lean

flourish, not unlike a lasso thrown at all the rest of the names:

Blandois. Paris.

From France to Italy.

And then, with his nose coming down over his moustache and his moustache

going up and under his nose, repaired to his allotted cell.

CHAPTER 2. Mrs General

It is indispensable to present the accomplished lady who was of

sufficient importance in the suite of the Dorrit Family to have a line

to herself in the Travellers' Book.

Mrs General was the daughter of a clerical dignitary in a cathedral

town, where she had led the fashion until she was as near forty-five as

a single lady can be. A stiff commissariat officer of sixty, famous as a

martinet, had then become enamoured of the gravity with which she drove

the proprieties four-in-hand through the cathedral town society, and

had solicited to be taken beside her on the box of the cool coach of

ceremony to which that team was harnessed. His proposal of marriage

being accepted by the lady, the commissary took his seat behind

the proprieties with great decorum, and Mrs General drove until the

commissary died. In the course of their united journey, they ran over

several people who came in the way of the proprieties; but always in a

high style and with composure.

The commissary having been buried with all the decorations suitable to

the service (the whole team of proprieties were harnessed to his hearse,

and they all had feathers and black velvet housings with his coat of

arms in the corner), Mrs General began to inquire what quantity of dust

and ashes was deposited at the bankers'. It then transpired that the

commissary had so far stolen a march on Mrs General as to have bought

himself an annuity some years before his marriage, and to have reserved

that circumstance in mentioning, at the period of his proposal, that

his income was derived from the interest of his money. Mrs General

consequently found her means so much diminished, that, but for the

perfect regulation of her mind, she might have felt disposed to question

the accuracy of that portion of the late service which had declared that

the commissary could take nothing away with him.

In this state of affairs it occurred to Mrs General, that she might

'form the mind,' and eke the manners of some young lady of distinction.

Or, that she might harness the proprieties to the carriage of some rich

young heiress or widow, and become at once the driver and guard of such

vehicle through the social mazes. Mrs General's communication of this

idea to her clerical and commissariat connection was so warmly applauded

that, but for the lady's undoubted merit, it might have appeared as

though they wanted to get rid of her. Testimonials representing Mrs

General as a prodigy of piety, learning, virtue, and gentility, were

lavishly contributed from influential quarters; and one venerable

archdeacon even shed tears in recording his testimony to her perfections

(described to him by persons on whom he could rely), though he had never

had the honour and moral gratification of setting eyes on Mrs General in

all his life.

Thus delegated on her mission, as it were by Church and State, Mrs

General, who had always occupied high ground, felt in a condition to

keep it, and began by putting herself up at a very high figure. An

interval of some duration elapsed, in which there was no bid for Mrs

General. At length a county-widower, with a daughter of fourteen, opened

negotiations with the lady; and as it was a part either of the native

dignity or of the artificial policy of Mrs General (but certainly one

or the other) to comport herself as if she were much more sought than

seeking, the widower pursued Mrs General until he prevailed upon her to

form his daughter's mind and manners.

The execution of this trust occupied Mrs General about seven years, in

the course of which time she made the tour of Europe, and saw most of

that extensive miscellany of objects which it is essential that all

persons of polite cultivation should see with other people's eyes,

and never with their own. When her charge was at length formed, the

marriage, not only of the young lady, but likewise of her father, the

widower, was resolved on. The widower then finding Mrs General both

inconvenient and expensive, became of a sudden almost as much affected

by her merits as the archdeacon had been, and circulated such praises

of her surpassing worth, in all quarters where he thought an opportunity

might arise of transferring the blessing to somebody else, that Mrs

General was a name more honourable than ever.

The phoenix was to let, on this elevated perch, when Mr Dorrit, who

had lately succeeded to his property, mentioned to his bankers that he

wished to discover a lady, well-bred, accomplished, well connected, well

accustomed to good society, who was qualified at once to complete the

education of his daughters, and to be their matron or chaperon. Mr

Dorrit's bankers, as bankers of the county-widower, instantly said, 'Mrs

General.'

Pursuing the light so fortunately hit upon, and finding the concurrent

testimony of the whole of Mrs General's acquaintance to be of the

pathetic nature already recorded, Mr Dorrit took the trouble of going

down to the county of the county-widower to see Mrs General, in whom he

found a lady of a quality superior to his highest expectations.

'Might I be excused,' said Mr Dorrit, 'if I inquired--ha--what remune--'

'Why, indeed,' returned Mrs General, stopping the word, 'it is a subject

on which I prefer to avoid entering. I have never entered on it with my

friends here; and I cannot overcome the delicacy, Mr Dorrit, with

which I have always regarded it. I am not, as I hope you are aware, a

governess--'

'O dear no!' said Mr Dorrit. 'Pray, madam, do not imagine for a moment

that I think so.' He really blushed to be suspected of it.

Mrs General gravely inclined her head. 'I cannot, therefore, put a price

upon services which it is a pleasure to me to render if I can render

them spontaneously, but which I could not render in mere return for any

consideration. Neither do I know how, or where, to find a case parallel

to my own. It is peculiar.'

No doubt. But how then (Mr Dorrit not unnaturally hinted) could the

subject be approached. 'I cannot object,' said Mrs General--'though even

that is disagreeable to me--to Mr Dorrit's inquiring, in confidence of

my friends here, what amount they have been accustomed, at quarterly

intervals, to pay to my credit at my bankers'.'

Mr Dorrit bowed his acknowledgements.

'Permit me to add,' said Mrs General, 'that beyond this, I can never

resume the topic. Also that I can accept no second or inferior position.

If the honour were proposed to me of becoming known to Mr Dorrit's

family--I think two daughters were mentioned?--'

'Two daughters.'

'I could only accept it on terms of perfect equality, as a companion,

protector, Mentor, and friend.'

Mr Dorrit, in spite of his sense of his importance, felt as if it would

be quite a kindness in her to accept it on any conditions. He almost

said as much.

'I think,' repeated Mrs General, 'two daughters were mentioned?'

'Two daughters,' said Mr Dorrit again.

'It would therefore,' said Mrs General, 'be necessary to add a third

more to the payment (whatever its amount may prove to be), which my

friends here have been accustomed to make to my bankers'.'

Mr Dorrit lost no time in referring the delicate question to the

county-widower, and finding that he had been accustomed to pay three

hundred pounds a-year to the credit of Mrs General, arrived, without any

severe strain on his arithmetic, at the conclusion that he himself must

pay four. Mrs General being an article of that lustrous surface which

suggests that it is worth any money, he made a formal proposal to be

allowed to have the honour and pleasure of regarding her as a member of

his family. Mrs General conceded that high privilege, and here she was.

In person, Mrs General, including her skirts which had much to do with

it, was of a dignified and imposing appearance; ample, rustling, gravely

voluminous; always upright behind the proprieties. She might have

been taken--had been taken--to the top of the Alps and the bottom of

Herculaneum, without disarranging a fold in her dress, or displacing

a pin. If her countenance and hair had rather a floury appearance, as

though from living in some transcendently genteel Mill, it was rather

because she was a chalky creation altogether, than because she mended

her complexion with violet powder, or had turned grey. If her eyes had

no expression, it was probably because they had nothing to express. If

she had few wrinkles, it was because her mind had never traced its name

or any other inscription on her face. A cool, waxy, blown-out woman, who

had never lighted well. Mrs General had no opinions. Her way of forming

a mind was to prevent it from forming opinions. She had a little

circular set of mental grooves or rails on which she started little

trains of other people's opinions, which never overtook one another, and

never got anywhere. Even her propriety could not dispute that there was

impropriety in the world; but Mrs General's way of getting rid of it was

to put it out of sight, and make believe that there was no such thing.

This was another of her ways of forming a mind--to cram all articles of

difficulty into cupboards, lock them up, and say they had no existence.

It was the easiest way, and, beyond all comparison, the properest.

Mrs General was not to be told of anything shocking. Accidents,

miseries, and offences, were never to be mentioned before her. Passion

was to go to sleep in the presence of Mrs General, and blood was to

change to milk and water. The little that was left in the world,

when all these deductions were made, it was Mrs General's province to

varnish. In that formation process of hers, she dipped the smallest of

brushes into the largest of pots, and varnished the surface of every

object that came under consideration. The more cracked it was, the more

Mrs General varnished it. There was varnish in Mrs General's voice,

varnish in Mrs General's touch, an atmosphere of varnish round Mrs

General's figure. Mrs General's dreams ought to have been varnished--if

she had any--lying asleep in the arms of the good Saint Bernard, with

the feathery snow falling on his house-top.

CHAPTER 3. On the Road

The bright morning sun dazzled the eyes, the snow had ceased, the mists

had vanished, the mountain air was so clear and light that the

new sensation of breathing it was like the having entered on a new

existence. To help the delusion, the solid ground itself seemed gone,

and the mountain, a shining waste of immense white heaps and masses, to

be a region of cloud floating between the blue sky above and the earth

far below.

Some dark specks in the snow, like knots upon a little thread, beginning

at the convent door and winding away down the descent in broken lengths

which were not yet pieced together, showed where the Brethren were at

work in several places clearing the track. Already the snow had begun to

be foot-thawed again about the door. Mules were busily brought out, tied

to the rings in the wall, and laden; strings of bells were buckled

on, burdens were adjusted, the voices of drivers and riders sounded

musically. Some of the earliest had even already resumed their journey;

and, both on the level summit by the dark water near the convent, and on

the downward way of yesterday's ascent, little moving figures of men and

mules, reduced to miniatures by the immensity around, went with a clear

tinkling of bells and a pleasant harmony of tongues.

In the supper-room of last night, a new fire, piled upon the feathery

ashes of the old one, shone upon a homely breakfast of loaves, butter,

and milk. It also shone on the courier of the Dorrit family, making tea

for his party from a supply he had brought up with him, together with

several other small stores which were chiefly laid in for the use of the

strong body of inconvenience. Mr Gowan and Blandois of Paris had already

breakfasted, and were walking up and down by the lake, smoking their

cigars. 'Gowan, eh?' muttered Tip, otherwise Edward Dorrit, Esquire,

turning over the leaves of the book, when the courier had left them to

breakfast. 'Then Gowan is the name of a puppy, that's all I have got to

say! If it was worth my while, I'd pull his nose. But it isn't worth my

while--fortunately for him. How's his wife, Amy?

I suppose you know. You generally know things of that sort.'

'She is better, Edward. But they are not going to-day.'

'Oh! They are not going to-day! Fortunately for that fellow too,' said

Tip, 'or he and I might have come into collision.'

'It is thought better here that she should lie quiet to-day, and not be

fatigued and shaken by the ride down until to-morrow.'

'With all my heart. But you talk as if you had been nursing her. You

haven't been relapsing into (Mrs General is not here) into old habits,

have you, Amy?'

He asked her the question with a sly glance of observation at Miss