little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第17部分

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he　submitted　to　her　entreaties；　backed　by　those　of　his　uncle　and　sister。
There　was　no　want　of　precedent　for　his　return；　it　was　accounted　for
to　the　father　in　the　usual　way；　and　the　collegians；　with　a　better
prehension　of　the　pious　fraud　than　Tip；　supported　it　loyally。

This　was　the　life；　and　this　the　history；　of　the　child　of　the　Marshalsea
at　twenty…two。　With　a　still　surviving　attachment　to　the　one　miserable
yard　and　block　of　houses　as　her　birthplace　and　home；　she　passed　to　and
fro　in　it　shrinkingly　now；　with　a　womanly　consciousness　that　she　was
pointed　out　to　every　one。　Since　she　had　begun　to　work　beyond　the　walls；
she　had　found　it　necessary　to　conceal　where　she　lived；　and　to　e　and
go　as　secretly　as　she　could；　between　the　free　city　and　the　iron　gates；
outside　of　which　she　had　never　slept　in　her　life。　Her　original　timidity
had　grown　with　this　concealment；　and　her　light　step　and　her　little
figure　shunned　the　thronged　streets　while　they　passed　along　them。

Worldly　wise　in　hard　and　poor　necessities；　she　was　innocent　in　all
things　else。　Innocent；　in　the　mist　through　which　she　saw　her　father；
and　the　prison；　and　the　turbid　living　river　that　flowed　through　it　and
flowed　on。


This　was　the　life；　and　this　the　history；　of　Little　Dorrit；　now　going
home　upon　a　dull　September　evening；　observed　at　a　distance　by　Arthur
Clennam。　This　was　the　life；　and　this　the　history；　of　Little　Dorrit；
turning　at　the　end　of　London　Bridge；　recrossing　it；　going　back　again；
passing　on　to　Saint　George's　Church；　turning　back　suddenly　once　more；
and　flitting　in　at　the　open　outer　gate　and　little　court…yard　of　the
Marshalsea。




CHAPTER　8。　The　Lock


Arthur　Clennam　stood　in　the　street；　waiting　to　ask　some　passer…by　what
place　that　was。　He　suffered　a　few　people　to　pass　him　in　whose　face　there
was　no　encouragement　to　make　the　inquiry；　and　still　stood　pausing　in　the
street；　when　an　old　man　came　up　and　turned　into　the　courtyard。

He　stooped　a　good　deal；　and　plodded　along　in　a　slow　pre…occupied　manner；
which　made　the　bustling　London　thoroughfares　no　very　safe　resort　for
him。　He　was　dirtily　and　meanly　dressed；　in　a　threadbare　coat；　once　blue；
reaching　to　his　ankles　and　buttoned　to　his　chin；　where　it　vanished　in
the　pale　ghost　of　a　velvet　collar。　A　piece　of　red　cloth　with　which　that
phantom　had　been　stiffened　in　its　lifetime　was　now　laid　bare；　and　poked
itself　up；　at　the　back　of　the　old　man's　neck；　into　a　confusion　of　grey
hair　and　rusty　stock　and　buckle　which　altogether　nearly　poked　his
hat　off。　A　greasy　hat　it　was；　and　a　napless；　impending　over　his　eyes；
cracked　and　crumpled　at　the　brim；　and　with　a　wisp　of　pocket…handkerchief
dangling　out　below　it。　His　trousers　were　so　long　and　loose；　and　his
shoes　so　clumsy　and　large；　that　he　shuffled　like　an　elephant；　though　how
much　of　this　was　gait；　and　how　much　trailing　cloth　and　leather；　no　one
could　have　told。　Under　one　arm　he　carried　a　limp　and　worn…out　case；
containing　some　wind　instrument；　in　the　same　hand　he　had　a　pennyworth
of　snuff　in　a　little　packet　of　whitey…brown　paper；　from　which　he　slowly
forted　his　poor　blue　old　nose　with　a　lengthened…out　pinch；　as　Arthur
Clennam　looked　at　him。　To　this　old　man　crossing　the　court…yard；　he
preferred　his　inquiry；　touching　him　on　the　shoulder。　The　old　man　stopped
and　looked　round；　with　the　expression　in　his　weak　grey　eyes　of　one　whose
thoughts　had　been　far　off；　and　who　was　a　little　dull　of　hearing　also。

'Pray；　sir；'　said　Arthur；　repeating　his　question；　'what　is　this　place？'

'Ay！　This　place？'　returned　the　old　man；　staying　his　pinch　of　snuff　on
its　road；　and　pointing　at　the　place　without　looking　at　it。　'This　is　the
Marshalsea；　sir。'

'The　debtors'　prison？'

'Sir；'　said　the　old　man；　with　the　air　of　deeming　it　not　quite　necessary
to　insist　upon　that　designation；　'the　debtors'　prison。'

He　turned　himself　about；　and　went　on。

'I　beg　your　pardon；'　said　Arthur；　stopping　him　once　more；　'but　will　you
allow　me　to　ask　you　another　question？　Can　any　one　go　in　here？'

'Any　one　can　go　IN；'　replied　the　old　man；　plainly　adding　by　the
significance　of　his　emphasis；　'but　it　is　not　every　one　who　can　go　out。'

'Pardon　me　once　more。　Are　you　familiar　with　the　place？'

'Sir；'　returned　the　old　man；　squeezing　his　little　packet　of　snuff　in　his
hand；　and　turning　upon　his　interrogator　as　if　such　questions　hurt　him。
'I　am。'

'I　beg　you　to　excuse　me。　I　am　not　impertinently　curious；　but　have　a　good
object。　Do　you　know　the　name　of　Dorrit　here？'

'My　name；　sir；'　replied　the　old　man　most　unexpectedly；　'is　Dorrit。'

Arthur　pulled　off　his　hat　to　him。　'Grant　me　the　favour　of　half…a…dozen
words。　I　was　wholly　unprepared　for　your　announcement；　and　hope　that
assurance　is　my　sufficient　apology　for　having　taken　the　liberty　of
addressing　you。　I　have　recently　e　home　to　England　after　a　long
absence。　I　have　seen　at　my　mother's……Mrs　Clennam　in　the　city……a　young
woman　working　at　her　needle；　whom　I　have　only　heard　addressed　or　spoken
of　as　Little　Dorrit。　I　have　felt　sincerely　interested　in　her；　and　have
had　a　great　desire　to　know　something　more　about　her。　I　saw　her；　not　a
minute　before　you　came　up；　pass　in　at　that　door。'

The　old　man　looked　at　him　attentively。　'Are　you　a　sailor；　sir？'　he
asked。　He　seemed　a　little　disappointed　by　the　shake　of　the　head　that
replied　to　him。　'Not　a　sailor？　I　judged　from　your　sunburnt　face　that　you
might　be。　Are　you　in　earnest；　sir？'

'I　do　assure　you　that　I　am；　and　do　entreat　you　to　believe　that　I　am；　in
plain　earnest。'

'I　know　very　little　of　the　world；　sir；'　returned　the　other；　who　had　a
　merely　passing　on；　like　the　shadow　over
the　sun…dial。　It　would　be　worth　no　man's　while　to　mislead　me；　it　would
really　be　too　easy……too　poor　a　success；　to　yield　any　satisfaction。　The
young　woman　whom　you　saw　go　in　here　is　my　brother's　child。　My　brother
is　William　Dorrit；　I　am　Frederick。　You　say　you　have　seen　her　at　your
mother's　（I　know　your　mother　befriends　her）；　you　have　felt　an　interest
in　her；　and　you　wish　to　know　what　she　does　here。　e　and　see。'

He　went　on　again；　and　Arthur　acpanied　him。

'My　brother；'　said　the　old　man；　pausing　on　the　step　and　slowly　facing
round　again；　'has　been　here　many　years；　and　much　that　happens　even　among
ourselves；　out　of　doors；　is　kept　from　him　for　reasons　that　I　needn't
enter　upon　now。　Be　so　good　as　to　say　nothing　of　my　niece's　working　at
her　needle。　Be　so　good　as　to　say　nothing　that　goes　beyond　what　is　said
among　us。　If　you　keep　within　our　bounds；　you　cannot　well　be　wrong。　Now！
e　and　see。'

Arthur　followed　him　down　a　narrow　entry；　at　the　end　of　which　a　key　was
turned；　and　a　strong　door　was　opened　from　within。　It　admitted　them　into
a　lodge　or　lobby；　across　which　they　passed；　and　so　through　another　door
and　a　grating　into　the　prison。　The　old　man　always　plodding　on　before；
turned　round；　in　his　slow；　stiff；　stooping　manner；　when　they　came　to　the
turnkey　on　duty；　as　if　to　present　his　panion。　The　turnkey　nodded；　and
the　panion　passed　in　without　being　asked　whom　he　wanted。

The　night　was　dark；　and　the　prison　lamps　in　the　yard；　and　the　candles　in
the　prison　windows　faintly　shining　behind　many　sorts　of　wry　old　curtain
and　blind；　had　not　the　air　of　making　it　lighter。　A　few　people　loitered
about；　but　the　greater　part　of　the　population　was　within　doors。　The　old
man；　taking　the　right…hand　side　of　the　yard；　turned　in　at　the　third　or
fourth　doorway；　and　began　to　ascend　the　stairs。　'They　are　rather　dark；
sir；　but　you　will　not　find　anything　in　the　way。'

He　paused　for　a　moment　before　opening　a　door　on　the　second　story。　He　had
no　sooner　turned　the　handle　than　the　visitor　saw　Little　Dorrit；　and　saw
the　reason　of　her　setting　so　much　store　by　dining　alone。

She　had　brought　the　meat　home　that　she　should　have　eaten　herself；　and
was　already　warming　it　on　a　gridiron　over　the　fire　for　her　father；　clad
in　an　old　grey　gown　and　a　black　cap；　awaiting　his　supper　at　the　table。
A　clean　cloth　was　spread　before　him；　with　knife；　fork；　and　spoon；
salt…cellar；　pepper…box；　glass；　and　pewter　ale…pot。　Such　zests　as　his
particular　little　phial　of　cayenne　pepper　and　his　pennyworth　of　pickles
in　a　saucer；　were　not　wanting。

She　started；　coloured　deeply；　and　turned　white。　The　visitor；　more　with
his　eyes　than　by　the　slight　impulsive　motion　of　his　hand；　entreated　her
to　be　reassured　and　to　trust　him。

'I　found　this　gentleman；'　said　the　uncle……'Mr　Clennam；　William；　son　of
Amy's　friend……at　the　outer　gate；　wishful；　as　he　was　going　by；　of　paying
his　respects；　but　hesitating　whether　to　e　in　or　not。　This　is　my
brother　William；　sir。'

'I　hope；'　said　Arthur；　very　doubtful　what　to　say；　'that　my　respect　for
your　daughter　may　explain　and　justify　my　desire　to　be　presented　to　you；
sir。'

'Mr　Clennam；'　returned　the　other；　rising；　taking　his　cap　off　in　the
flat　of　his　hand；　and　so　holding　it；　ready　to　put　on　again；　'you　do　me
honour。　You　are　wele；　sir；'　with　a　low　bow。　'Frederick；　a　chair。　Pray
sit　down；　Mr　Clennam。'

He　put　his　black　cap　on　again　as　he　had　taken　it　off；　and　resumed　his
own　seat。　There　was　a　wonderful　air　of　benignity　and　patronage　in　his
manner。　These　were　the　ceremonies　with　which　he　received　the　collegians。

'You　are　wele　to　the　Marshalsea；　sir。　I　have　weled　many　gentlemen
to　these　walls。　Perhaps　you　are　aware……my　daughter　Amy　may　have
mentioned　that　I　am　the　Father　of　this　place。'

'I……so　I　have　understood；'　said　Arthur；　dashing　at　the　assertion。

'You　know；　I　dare　say；　that　my　daughter　Amy　was　born　here。　A　good　girl；
sir；　a　dear　girl；　and　long　a　fort　and　support　to　me。　Amy；　my　dear；
put　this　dish　on；　Mr　Clennam　will　excuse　the　primitive　customs　to　which
we　are　reduced　here。　Is　it　a　pliment　to　ask　you　if　you　would　do　me
the　honour；　sir；　to……'

'Thank　you；'　returned　Arthur。　'Not　a　morsel。'

He　felt　himself　quite　lost　in　wonder　at　the　manner　of　the　man；　and　that
the　probability　of　his　daughter's　having　had　a　reserve　as　to　her　family
history；　should　be　so　far　out　of　his　mind。

She　filled　his　glass；　put　all　the　little　matters　on　the　table　ready　to
his　hand；　and　then　sat　beside　him　while　he　ate　his　supper。　Evidently　in
observance　of　their　nightly　custom；　she　put　some　bread　before　herself；
and　touched　his　glass　with　her　lips；　but　Arthur　saw　she　was　troubled
and　took　nothing。　Her　look　at　her　father；　half　admiring　him　and　proud
of　him；　half　ashamed　for　him；　all　devoted　and　loving；　went　to　his　inmost
heart。

The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　condescended　towards　his　brother　as　an
amiable；　well…meaning　man；　a　private　character；　who　had　not　arrived　at
distinction。　'Frederick；'　said　he；　'you　and　Fanny　sup　at　your　lodgings
to…night；　I　know。　What　have　you　done　with　Fanny；　Frederick？'　'She　is
walking　with　Tip。'

'Tip……as　you　may　know……is　my　son；　Mr　Clennam。　He　has　been　a　little
wild；　and　difficult　to　settle；　but　his　introduction　to　the　world　was
rather'……he　shrugged　his　shoulders　with　a　faint　sigh；　and　looked　round
the　room……'a　little　adverse。　Your　first　visit　here；　sir？'

'My　first。'

'You　could　hardly　have　been　here　since　your　boyhood　without　my
knowledge。　It　very　seldom　happens　that　anybody……of　any　pretensions…any
pretensions……es　here　without　being　presented　to　me。'

'As　many　as　forty　or　fifty　in　a　day　have　been　introduced　to　my　brother；'
said　Fre