第 90 页

me; and if you'll credit it, Mr Clennam, there wasn't in the whole

shining Heavens, no not so much as a finger of that young woman.'

Passing over the absence from the firmament of this novel constellation,

Arthur inquired of Mrs Tickit if she herself went beyond the gate?

'Went to and fro, and high and low,' said Mrs Tickit, 'and saw no sign

of her!'

He then asked Mrs Tickit how long a space of time she supposed there

might have been between the two sets of ocular quiverings she had

experienced? Mrs Tickit, though minutely circumstantial in her reply,

had no settled opinion between five seconds and ten minutes.

She was so plainly at sea on this part of the case, and had so clearly

been startled out of slumber, that Clennam was much disposed to regard

the appearance as a dream. Without hurting Mrs Tickit's feelings with

that infidel solution of her mystery, he took it away from the cottage

with him; and probably would have retained it ever afterwards if a

circumstance had not soon happened to change his opinion. He was passing

at nightfall along the Strand, and the lamp-lighter was going on before

him, under whose hand the street-lamps, blurred by the foggy air, burst

out one after another, like so many blazing sunflowers coming into

full-blow all at once,--when a stoppage on the pavement, caused by a

train of coal-waggons toiling up from the wharves at the river-side,

brought him to a stand-still. He had been walking quickly, and going

with some current of thought, and the sudden check given to both

operations caused him to look freshly about him, as people under such

circumstances usually do.

Immediately, he saw in advance--a few people intervening, but still

so near to him that he could have touched them by stretching out

his arm--Tattycoram and a strange man of a remarkable appearance: a

swaggering man, with a high nose, and a black moustache as false in its

colour as his eyes were false in their expression, who wore his heavy

cloak with the air of a foreigner. His dress and general appearance were

those of a man on travel, and he seemed to have very recently joined

the girl. In bending down (being much taller than she was), listening

to whatever she said to him, he looked over his shoulder with the

suspicious glance of one who was not unused to be mistrustful that his

footsteps might be dogged. It was then that Clennam saw his face; as

his eyes lowered on the people behind him in the aggregate, without

particularly resting upon Clennam's face or any other.

He had scarcely turned his head about again, and it was still bent down,

listening to the girl, when the stoppage ceased, and the obstructed

stream of people flowed on. Still bending his head and listening to the

girl, he went on at her side, and Clennam followed them, resolved to

play this unexpected play out, and see where they went.

He had hardly made the determination (though he was not long about it),

when he was again as suddenly brought up as he had been by the stoppage.

They turned short into the Adelphi,--the girl evidently leading,--and

went straight on, as if they were going to the Terrace which overhangs

the river.

There is always, to this day, a sudden pause in that place to the roar

of the great thoroughfare. The many sounds become so deadened that the

change is like putting cotton in the ears, or having the head thickly

muffled. At that time the contrast was far greater; there being no small

steam-boats on the river, no landing places but slippery wooden stairs

and foot-causeways, no railroad on the opposite bank, no hanging bridge

or fish-market near at hand, no traffic on the nearest bridge of stone,

nothing moving on the stream but watermen's wherries and coal-lighters.

Long and broad black tiers of the latter, moored fast in the mud as if

they were never to move again, made the shore funereal and silent after

dark; and kept what little water-movement there was, far out towards

mid-stream. At any hour later than sunset, and not least at that hour

when most of the people who have anything to eat at home are going home

to eat it, and when most of those who have nothing have hardly yet slunk

out to beg or steal, it was a deserted place and looked on a deserted

scene.

Such was the hour when Clennam stopped at the corner, observing the girl

and the strange man as they went down the street. The man's footsteps

were so noisy on the echoing stones that he was unwilling to add the

sound of his own. But when they had passed the turning and were in the

darkness of the dark corner leading to the terrace, he made after them

with such indifferent appearance of being a casual passenger on his way,

as he could assume.

When he rounded the dark corner, they were walking along the terrace

towards a figure which was coming towards them. If he had seen it by

itself, under such conditions of gas-lamp, mist, and distance, he might

not have known it at first sight, but with the figure of the girl to

prompt him, he at once recognised Miss Wade.

He stopped at the corner, seeming to look back expectantly up the street

as if he had made an appointment with some one to meet him there; but he

kept a careful eye on the three. When they came together, the man took

off his hat, and made Miss Wade a bow. The girl appeared to say a few

words as though she presented him, or accounted for his being late, or

early, or what not; and then fell a pace or so behind, by herself. Miss

Wade and the man then began to walk up and down; the man having the

appearance of being extremely courteous and complimentary in manner;

Miss Wade having the appearance of being extremely haughty.

When they came down to the corner and turned, she was saying,

'If I pinch myself for it, sir, that is my business. Confine yourself to

yours, and ask me no question.'

'By Heaven, ma'am!' he replied, making her another bow. 'It was my

profound respect for the strength of your character, and my admiration

of your beauty.'

'I want neither the one nor the other from any one,' said she, 'and

certainly not from you of all creatures. Go on with your report.'

'Am I pardoned?' he asked, with an air of half abashed gallantry.

'You are paid,' she said, 'and that is all you want.'

Whether the girl hung behind because she was not to hear the business,

or as already knowing enough about it, Clennam could not determine. They

turned and she turned. She looked away at the river, as she walked

with her hands folded before her; and that was all he could make of

her without showing his face. There happened, by good fortune, to be a

lounger really waiting for some one; and he sometimes looked over the

railing at the water, and sometimes came to the dark corner and looked

up the street, rendering Arthur less conspicuous.

When Miss Wade and the man came back again, she was saying, 'You must

wait until to-morrow.'

'A thousand pardons?' he returned. 'My faith! Then it's not convenient

to-night?'

'No. I tell you I must get it before I can give it to you.'

She stopped in the roadway, as if to put an end to the conference. He of

course stopped too. And the girl stopped.

'It's a little inconvenient,' said the man. 'A little. But, Holy Blue!

that's nothing in such a service. I am without money to-night, by

chance. I have a good banker in this city, but I would not wish to draw

upon the house until the time when I shall draw for a round sum.'

'Harriet,' said Miss Wade, 'arrange with him--this gentleman here--for

sending him some money to-morrow.' She said it with a slur of the word

gentleman which was more contemptuous than any emphasis, and walked

slowly on. The man bent his head again, and the girl spoke to him as

they both followed her. Clennam ventured to look at the girl as they

Moved away. He could note that her rich black eyes were fastened upon

the man with a scrutinising expression, and that she kept at a little

distance from him, as they walked side by side to the further end of the

terrace.

A loud and altered clank upon the pavement warned him, before he could

discern what was passing there, that the man was coming back alone.

Clennam lounged into the road, towards the railing; and the man passed

at a quick swing, with the end of his cloak thrown over his shoulder,

singing a scrap of a French song.

The whole vista had no one in it now but himself. The lounger had

lounged out of view, and Miss Wade and Tattycoram were gone. More than

ever bent on seeing what became of them, and on having some information

to give his good friend, Mr Meagles, he went out at the further end of

the terrace, looking cautiously about him. He rightly judged that, at

first at all events, they would go in a contrary direction from their

late companion. He soon saw them in a neighbouring bye-street, which was

not a thoroughfare, evidently allowing time for the man to get well

out of their way. They walked leisurely arm-in-arm down one side of the

street, and returned on the opposite side. When they came back to the

street-corner, they changed their pace for the pace of people with an

object and a distance before them, and walked steadily away. Clennam, no

less steadily, kept them in sight.

They crossed the Strand, and passed through Covent Garden (under the

windows of his old lodging where dear Little Dorrit had come that

night), and slanted away north-east, until they passed the great

building whence Tattycoram derived her name, and turned into the Gray's

Inn Road. Clennam was quite at home here, in right of Flora, not to

mention the Patriarch and Pancks, and kept them in view with ease. He

was beginning to wonder where they might be going next, when that wonder

was lost in the greater wonder with which he saw them turn into the

Patriarchal street. That wonder was in its turn swallowed up on the

greater wonder with which he saw them stop at the Patriarchal door. A

low double knock at the bright brass knocker, a gleam of light into the

road from the opened door, a brief pause for inquiry and answer and the

door was shut, and they were housed.

After looking at the surrounding objects for assurance that he was

not in an odd dream, and after pacing a little while before the house,

Arthur knocked at the door. It was opened by the usual maid-servant,

and she showed him up at once, with her usual alacrity, to Flora's

sitting-room.

There was no one with Flora but Mr F.'s Aunt, which respectable

gentlewoman, basking in a balmy atmosphere of tea and toast, was

ensconced in an easy-chair by the fireside, with a little table at her

elbow, and a clean white handkerchief spread over her lap on which

two pieces of toast at that moment awaited consumption. Bending over

a steaming vessel of tea, and looking through the steam, and breathing

forth the steam, like a malignant Chinese enchantress engaged in the

performance of unholy rites, Mr F.'s Aunt put down her great teacup and

exclaimed, 'Drat him, if he an't come back again!'

It would seem from the foregoing exclamation that this uncompromising

relative of the lamented Mr F., measuring time by the acuteness of her

sensations and not by the clock, supposed Clennam to have lately gone

away; whereas at least a quarter of a year had elapsed since he had had

the temerity to present himself before her.

'My goodness Arthur!' cried Flora, rising to give him a cordial

reception, 'Doyce and Clennam what a start and a surprise for though not

far from the machinery and foundry business and surely might be taken

sometimes if at no other time about mid-day when a glass of sherry and a

humble sandwich of whatever cold meat in the larder might not come amiss

nor taste the worse for being friendly for you know you buy it somewhere

and wherever bought a profit must be made or they would never keep the

place it stands to reason without a motive still never seen and learnt

now not to be expected, for as Mr F. himself said if seeing is believing

not seeing is believing too and when you don't see you may fully believe

you're not remembered not that I expect you Arthur Doyce and Clennam to

remember me why should I for the days are gone but bring another teacup

here directly and tell her fresh toast and pray sit near the fire.'

Arthur was in the greatest anxiety to explain the object of his

visit; but was put off for the moment, in spite of himself, by what he

understood of the reproachful purport of these words, and by the genuine

pleasure she testified in seeing him. 'And now pray tell me something

all you know,' said Flora, drawing her chair near to his, 'about

the good dear quiet little thing and all the changes of her fortunes

carriage people now no doubt and horses without number most romantic, a

coat of arms of course and wild beasts on their hind legs showing it

as if it was a copy they had done with mouths from ear to ear good

gracious, and has she her health which is the first consideration after

all for what is wealth without it Mr F. himself so often saying when his

twinges came that sixpence a day and find yourself and no gout so much

preferable, not that he could have lived on anything like it being the

last man or that the previous little thing though far too familiar an

expression now had any tendency of that sort much too slight and small

but looked so fragile bless her?'

Mr F.'s Aunt, who had eaten a piece of toast down to the crust, here

solemnly handed the crust to Flora, who ate it for her as a matter of

business. Mr F.'s Aunt then moistened her ten fingers in slow succession

at her lips, and wiped them in exactly the same order on the white

handkerchief; then took the other piece of toast, and fell to work

upon it. While pursuing this routine, she looked at Clennam with an

expression of such intense severity that he felt obliged to look at her

in return, against his personal inclinations.

'She is in Italy, with all her family, Flora,' he said, when the dreaded