and looked in。
'Who's that？' cried a stout old man； who was putting on a nightcap as if
he were going to bed in a vault。
'It's no one particular； sir；' said Little Dorrit。
'Stop！' cried the man。 'Let's have a look at you！'
This caused her to turn back again in the act of going out； and to
present herself and her charge before him。
'I thought so！' said he。 'I know YOU。'
'We have often seen each other；' said Little Dorrit； recognising the
sexton； or the beadle； or the verger； or whatever he was； 'when I have
been at church here。'
'More than that； we've got your birth in our Register； you know； you're
one of our curiosities。'
'Indeed！' said Little Dorrit。
'To be sure。 As the child of the……by…the…bye； how did you get out so
early？'
'We were shut out last night； and are waiting to get in。'
'You don't mean it？ And there's another hour good yet！ e into the
vestry。 You'll find a fire in the vestry； on account of the painters。
I'm waiting for the painters； or I shouldn't be here； you may depend
upon it。 One of our curiosities mustn't be cold when we have it in our
power to warm her up fortable。 e along。'
He was a very good old fellow； in his familiar way； and having stirred
the vestry fire； he looked round the shelves of registers for a
particular volume。 'Here you are； you see；' he said； taking it down and
turning the leaves。 'Here you'll find yourself； as large as life。 Amy；
daughter of William and Fanny Dorrit。 Born； Marshalsea Prison； Parish of
St George。 And we tell people that you have lived there； without so much
as a day's or a night's absence； ever since。 Is it true？'
'Quite true； till last night。' 'Lord！' But his surveying her with an
admiring gaze suggested Something else to him； to wit： 'I am sorry to
see； though； that you are faint and tired。 Stay a bit。 I'll get some
cushions out of the church； and you and your friend shall lie down
before the fire。
Don't be afraid of not going in to join your father when the gate opens。
I'll call you。'
He soon brought in the cushions； and strewed them on the ground。
'There you are； you see。 Again as large as life。 Oh； never mind
thanking。 I've daughters of my own。 And though they weren't born in the
Marshalsea Prison； they might have been； if I had been； in my ways of
carrying on； of your father's breed。 Stop a bit。 I must put something
under the cushion for your head。 Here's a burial volume； just the
thing！ We have got Mrs Bangham in this book。 But what makes these books
interesting to most people is……not who's in 'em； but who isn't……who's
ing； you know； and when。 That's the interesting question。'
mendingly looking back at the pillow he had improvised； he left them
to their hour's repose。 Maggy was snoring already； and Little Dorrit
was soon fast asleep with her head resting on that sealed book of Fate；
untroubled by its mysterious blank leaves。
This was Little Dorrit's party。 The shame； desertion； wretchedness； and
exposure of the great capital； the wet； the cold； the slow hours； and
the swift clouds of the dismal night。 This was the party from which
Little Dorrit went home； jaded； in the first grey mist of a rainy
morning。
CHAPTER 15。 Mrs Flintwinch has another Dream
The debilitated old house in the city； wrapped in its mantle of soot；
and leaning heavily on the crutches that had partaken of its decay and
worn out with it； never knew a healthy or a cheerful interval； let what
would betide。 If the sun ever touched it； it was but with a ray； and
that was gone in half an hour； if the moonlight ever fell upon it； it
was only to put a few patches on its doleful cloak； and make it look
more wretched。 The stars； to be sure； coldly watched it when the nights
and the smoke were clear enough； and all bad weather stood by it with
a rare fidelity。 You should alike find rain； hail； frost； and thaw
lingering in that dismal enclosure when they had vanished from other
places； and as to snow； you should see it there for weeks； long after
it had changed from yellow to black； slowly weeping away its grimy life。
The place had no other adherents。 As to street noises； the rumbling of
wheels in the lane merely rushed in at the gateway in going past； and
rushed out again： making the listening Mistress Affery feel as if she
were deaf； and recovered the sense of hearing by instantaneous flashes。
So with whistling； singing； talking； laughing； and all pleasant human
sounds。 They leaped the gap in a moment； and went upon their way。 The
varying light of fire and candle in Mrs Clennam's room made the greatest
change that ever broke the dead monotony of the spot。 In her two long
narrow windows； the fire shone sullenly all day； and sullenly all night。
On rare occasions it flashed up passionately； as she did； but for the
most part it was suppressed； like her； and preyed upon itself evenly and
slowly。 During many hours of the short winter days； however； when it was
dusk there early in the afternoon； changing distortions of herself
in her wheeled chair； of Mr Flintwinch with his wry neck； of Mistress
Affery ing and going； would be thrown upon the house wall that was
over the gateway； and would hover there like shadows from a great magic
lantern。 As the room…ridden invalid settled for the night； these would
gradually disappear： Mistress Affery's magnified shadow always flitting
about； last； until it finally glided away into the air； as though she
were off upon a witch excursion。 Then the solitary light would burn
unchangingly； until it burned pale before the dawn； and at last died
under the breath of Mrs Affery； as her shadow descended on it from the
witch…region of sleep。
Strange； if the little sick…room fire were in effect a beacon fire；
summoning some one； and that the most unlikely some one in the world；
to the spot that MUST be e to。 Strange； if the little sick…room light
were in effect a watch…light； burning in that place every night until
an appointed event should be watched out！ Which of the vast multitude
of travellers； under the sun and the stars； climbing the dusty hills
and toiling along the weary plains； journeying by land and journeying by
sea； ing and going so strangely； to meet and to act and react on one
another； which of the host may； with no suspicion of the journey's end；
be travelling surely hither？
Time shall show us。 The post of honour and the post of shame； the
general's station and the drummer's； a peer's statue in Westminster
Abbey and a seaman's hammock in the bosom of the deep； the mitre and
the workhouse； the woolsack and the gallows； the throne and the
guillotine……the travellers to all are on the great high road； but it
has wonderful divergencies； and only Time shall show us whither each
traveller is bound。
On a wintry afternoon at twilight； Mrs Flintwinch； having been heavy all
day； dreamed this dream：
She thought she was in the kitchen getting the kettle ready for tea； and
was warming herself with her feet upon the fender and the skirt of her
gown tucked up； before the collapsed fire in the middle of the grate；
bordered on either hand by a deep cold black ravine。 She thought that
as she sat thus； musing upon the question whethe