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 wrapt in peaceful slumber； after posing and arranging
the following monumental inscription on his pillow……
STRANGER！
RESPECT THE TOMB OF
JOHN CHIVERY； JUNIOR；
WHO DIED AT AN ADVANCED AGE
NOT NECESSARY TO MENTION。
HE ENCOUNTERED HIS RIVAL IN A DISTRESSED STATE；
AND FELT INCLINED
TO HAVE A ROUND WITH HIM；
BUT； FOR THE SAKE OF THE LOVED ONE； CONQUERED THOSE FEELINGS
OF BITTERNESS； AND BECAME
MAGNANIMOUS。
CHAPTER 28。 An Appearance in the Marshalsea
The opinion of the munity outside the prison gates bore hard on
Clennam as time went on； and he made no friends among the munity
within。 Too depressed to associate with the herd in the yard； who got
together to forget their cares； too retiring and too unhappy to join in
the poor socialities of the tavern； he kept his own room； and was held
in distrust。 Some said he was proud； some objected that he was
sullen and reserved； some were contemptuous of him； for that he was a
poor…spirited dog who pined under his debts。 The whole population were
shy of him on these various counts of indictment； but especially the
last； which involved a species of domestic treason； and he soon became
so confirmed in his seclusion； that his only time for walking up and
down was when the evening Club were assembled at their songs and toasts
and sentiments； and when the yard was nearly left to the women and
children。
Imprisonment began to tell upon him。 He knew that he idled and moped。
After what he had known of the influences of imprisonment within the
four small walls of the very room he occupied； this consciousness made
him afraid of himself。 Shrinking from the observation of other men； and
shrinking from his own； he began to change very sensibly。 Anybody might
see that the shadow of the wall was dark upon him。
One day when he might have been some ten or twelve weeks in jail； and
when he had been trying to read and had not been able to release even
the imaginary people of the book from the Marshalsea； a footstep stopped
at his door； and a hand tapped at it。 He arose and opened it； and an
agreeable voice accosted him with 'How do you do； Mr Clennam？ I hope I
am not unwele in calling to see you。'
It was the sprightly young Barnacle； Ferdinand。 He looked very
good…natured and prepossessing； though overpoweringly gay and free； in
contrast with the squalid prison。
'You are surprised to see me； Mr Clennam；' he said； taking the seat
which Clennam offered him。
'I must confess to being much surprised。'
'Not disagreeably； I hope？'
'By no means。'
'Thank you。 Frankly；' said the engaging young Barnacle； 'I have been
excessively sorry to hear that you were under the necessity of a
temporary retirement here； and I hope （of course as between two private
gentlemen） that our place has had nothing to do with it？'
'Your office？'
'Our Circumlocution place。'
'I cannot charge any part of my reverses upon that remarkable
establishment。'
Upon my life；'