little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第34部分

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now。'

Young　John　dolefully　protested　that　he　would　try　to　bear　it　in　mind；　and
would　be　heartily　glad　to　do　anything　she　wished。

'As　to　me；'　said　Little　Dorrit；　'think　as　little　of　me　as　you　can；　the
less；　the　better。　When　you　think　of　me　at　all；　John；　let　it　only　be　as
the　child　you　have　seen　grow　up　in　the　prison　with　one　set　of　duties
always　occupying　her；　as　a　weak；　retired；　contented；　unprotected　girl。　I
particularly　want　you　to　remember；　that　when　I　e　outside　the　gate；　I
am　unprotected　and　solitary。'

He　would　try　to　do　anything　she　wished。　But　why　did　Miss　Amy　so　much
want　him　to　remember　that？

'Because；'　returned　Little　Dorrit；　'I　know　I　can　then　quite　trust　you
not　to　forget　to…day；　and　not　to　say　any　more　to　me。　You　are　so　generous
that　I　know　I　can　trust　to　you　for　that；　and　I　do　and　I　always　will。　I
am　going　to　show　you；　at　once；　that　I　fully　trust　you。　I　like　this　place
where　we　are　speaking　better　than　any　place　I　know；'　her　slight　colour
had　faded；　but　her　lover　thought　he　saw　it　ing　back　just　then；　'and　I
may　be　often　here。　I　know　it　is　only　necessary　for　me　to　tell　you　so；　to
be　quite　sure　that　you　will　never　e　here　again　in　search　of　me。　And　I
am……quite　sure！'

She　might　rely　upon　it；　said　Young　John。　He　was　a　miserable　wretch；　but
her　word　was　more　than　a　law　for　him。

'And　good…bye；　John；'　said　Little　Dorrit。　'And　I　hope　you　will　have　a
good　wife　one　day；　and　be　a　happy　man。　I　am　sure　you　will　deserve　to　be
happy；　and　you　will　be；　John。'

As　she　held　out　her　hand　to　him　with　these　words；　the　heart　that　was
under　the　waistcoat　of　sprigs……mere　slop…work；　if　the　truth　must　be
known……swelled　to　the　size　of　the　heart　of　a　gentleman；　and　the　poor
mon　little　fellow；　having　no　room　to　hold　it；　burst　into　tears。

'Oh；　don't　cry；'　said　Little　Dorrit　piteously。　'Don't；　don't！　Good…bye；
John。　God　bless　you！'

'Good…bye；　Miss　Amy。　Good…bye！'

And　so　he　left　her：　first　observing　that　she　sat　down　on　the　corner　of　a
seat；　and　not　only　rested　her　little　hand　upon　the　rough　wall；　but　laid
her　face　against　it　too；　as　if　her　head　were　heavy；　and　her　mind　were
sad。　It　was　an　affecting　illustration　of　the　fallacy　of　human　projects；
to　behold　her　lover；　with　the　great　hat　pulled　over　his　eyes；　the　velvet
collar　turned　up　as　if　it　rained；　the　plum…coloured　coat　buttoned
to　conceal　the　silken　waistcoat　of　golden　sprigs；　and　the　little
direction…post　pointing　inexorably　home；　creeping　along　by　the　worst
back…streets；　and　posing；　as　he　went；　the　following　new　inscription
for　a　tombstone　in　St　George's　Churchyard：

'Here　lie　the　mortal　remains　Of　JOHN　CHIVERY；　Never　anything　worth
mentioning；　Who　died　about　the　end　of　the　year　one　thousand　eight
hundred　and　twenty…six；　Of　a　broken　heart；　Requesting　with　his　last
breath　that　the　word　AMY　might　be　inscribed　over　his　ashes；　which　was
accordingly　directed　to　be　done；　By　his　afflicted　Parents。'




CHAPTER　19。　The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　in　two　or　three　Relations


The　brothers　William　and　Frederick　Dorrit；　walking　up　and　down　the
College…yard……of　course　on　the　aristocratic　or　Pump　side；　for　the　Father
made　it　a　point　of　his　state　to　be　chary　of　going　among　his　children
on　the　Poor　side；　except　on　Sunday　mornings；　Christmas　Days；　and　other
occasions　of　ceremony；　in　the　observance　whereof　he　was　very　punctual；
and　at　which　times　he　laid　his　hand　upon　the　heads　of　their　infants；
and　blessed　those　young　insolvents　with　a　benignity　that　was　highly
edifying……the　brothers；　walking　up　and　down　the　College…yard　together；
were　a　memorable　sight。　Frederick　the　free；　was　so　humbled；　bowed；
withered；　and　faded；　William　the　bond；　was　so　courtly；　condescending；
and　benevolently　conscious　of　a　position；　that　in　this　regard　only；　if
in　no　other；　the　brothers　were　a　spectacle　to　wonder　at。

They　walked　up　and　down　the　yard　on　the　evening　of　Little　Dorrit's
Sunday　interview　with　her　lover　on　the　Iron　Bridge。　The　cares　of　state
were　over　for　that　day；　the　Drawing　Room　had　been　well　attended；　several
new　presentations　had　taken　place；　the　three…and…sixpence　accidentally
left　on　the　table　had　accidentally　increased　to　twelve　shillings；　and
the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　refreshed　himself　with　a　whiff　of　cigar。　As
he　walked　up　and　down；　affably　acmodating　his　step　to　the　shuffle　of
his　brother；　not　proud　in　his　superiority；　but　considerate　of　that　poor
creature；　bearing　with　him；　and　breathing　toleration　of　his　infirmities
in　every　little　puff　of　smoke　that　issued　from　his　lips　and　aspired　to
get　over　the　spiked　wall；　he　was　a　sight　to　wonder　at。

His　brother　Frederick　of　the　dim　eye；　palsied　hand；　bent　form；　and
groping　mind；　submissively　shuffled　at　his　side；　accepting　his　patronage
as　he　accepted　every　incident　of　the　labyrinthian　world　in　which　he　had
got　lost。　He　held　the　usual　screwed　bit　of　whitey…brown　paper　in　his
hand；　from　which　he　ever　and　again　unscrewed　a　spare　pinch　of　snuff。
That　falteringly　taken；　he　would　glance　at　his　brother　not　unadmiringly；
put　his　hands　behind　him；　and　shuffle　on　so　at　his　side　until　he　took
another　pinch；　or　stood　still　to　look　about　him……perchance　suddenly
missing　his　clario。　The　College　visitors　were　melting　away　as
the　shades　of　night　drew　on；　but　the　yard　was　still　pretty　full；　the
Collegians　being　mostly　out；　seeing　their　friends　to　the　Lodge。　As　the
brothers　paced　the　yard；　William　the　bond　looked　about　him　to　receive
salutes；　returned　them　by　graciously　lifting　off　his　hat；　and；　with
an　engaging　air；　prevented　Frederick　the　free　from　running　against　the
pany；　or　being　jostled　against　the　wall。　The　Collegians　as　a　body
were　not　easily　impressible；　but　even　they；　according　to　their　various
ways　of　wondering；　appeared　to　find　in　the　two　brothers　a　sight　to
wonder　at。

'You　are　a　little　low　this　evening；　Frederick；'　said　the　Father　of　the
Marshalsea。　'Anything　the　matter？'

'The　matter？'　He　stared　for　a　moment；　and　then　dropped　his　head　and　eyes
again。　'No；　William；　no。　Nothing　is　the　matter。'

'If　you　could　be　persuaded　to　smarten　yourself　up　a　little；　Frederick……'

'Aye；　aye！'　said　the　old　man　hurriedly。　'But　I　can't　be。　I　can't　be。
Don't　talk　so。　That's　all　over。'

The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　glanced　at　a　passing　Collegian　with　whom　he
was　on　friendly　terms；　as　who　should　say；　'An　enfeebled　old　man；　this；
but　he　is　my　brother；　sir；　my　brother；　and　the　voice　of　Nature　is
potent！'　and　steered　his　brother　clear　of　the　handle　of　the　pump　by　the
threadbare　sleeve。　Nothing　would　have　been　wanting　to　the　perfection　of
his　character　as　a　fraternal　guide；　philosopher　and　friend；　if　he　had
only　steered　his　brother　clear　of　ruin；　instead　of　bringing　it　upon　him。

'I　think；　William；'　said　the　object　of　his　affectionate　consideration；
'that　I　am　tired；　and　will　go　home　to　bed。'

'My　dear　Frederick；'　returned　the　other；　'don't　let　me　detain　you；　don't
sacrifice　your　inclination　to　me。'

'Late　hours；　and　a　heated　atmosphere；　and　years；　I　suppose；'　said
Frederick；　'weaken　me。'

'My　dear　Frederick；'　returned　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　'do　you
think　you　are　sufficiently　careful　of　yourself？　Do　you　think　your　habits
are　as　precise　and　methodical　as……shall　I　say　as　mine　are？　Not　to　revert
again　to　that　little　eccentricity　which　I　mentioned　just　now；　I　doubt　if
you　take　air　and　exercise　enough；　Frederick。　Here　is　the　parade；　always
at　your　service。　Why　not　use　it　more　regularly　than　you　do？'

'Hah！'　sighed　the　other。　'Yes；　yes；　yes；　yes。'

'But　it　is　of　no　use　saying　yes；　yes；　my　dear　Frederick；'　the　Father
of　the　Marshalsea　in　his　mild　wisdom　persisted；　'unless　you　act　on　that
assent。　Consider　my　case；　Frederick。　I　am　a　kind　of　example。　Necessity
and　time　have　taught　me　what　to　do。　At　certain　stated　hours　of　the　day；
you　will　find　me　on　the　parade；　in　my　room；　in　the　Lodge；　reading　the
paper；　receiving　pany；　eating　and　drinking。　I　have　impressed　upon　Amy
during　many　years；　that　I　must　have　my　meals　（for　instance）　punctually。
Amy　has　grown　up　in　a　sense　of　the　importance　of　these　arrangements；　and
you　know　what　a　good　girl　she　is。'

The　brother　only　sighed　again；　as　he　plodded　dreamily　along；　'Hah！　Yes；
yes；　yes；　yes。'

'My　dear　fellow；'　said　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　laying　his　hand
upon　his　shoulder；　and　mildly　rallying　him……mildly；　because　of　his
weakness；　poor　dear　soul；　'you　said　that　before；　and　it　does　not　express
much；　Frederick；　even　if　it　means　much。　I　wish　I　could　rouse　you；　my
good　Frederick；　you　want　to　be　roused。'

'Yes；　William；　yes。　No　doubt；'　returned　the　other；　lifting　his　dim　eyes
to　his　face。　'But　I　am　not　like　you。'

The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　said；　with　a　shrug　of　modest
self…depreciation；　'Oh！　You　might　be　like　me；　my　dear　Frederick；
you　might　be；　if　you　chose！'　and　forbore；　in　the　magnanimity　of　his
strength；　to　press　his　fallen　brother　further。

There　was　a　great　deal　of　leave…taking　going　on　in　corners；　as　was　usual
on　Sunday　nights；　and　here　and　there　in　the　dark；　some　poor　woman；　wife
or　mother；　was　weeping　with　a　new　Collegian。　The　time　had　been　when　the
Father　himself　had　wept；　in　the　shades　of　that　yard；　as　his　own
poor　wife　had　wept。　But　it　was　many　years　ago；　and　now　he　was　like
a　passenger　aboard　ship　in　a　long　voyage；　who　has　recovered　from
sea…sickness；　and　is　impatient　of　that　weakness　in　the　fresher
passengers　taken　aboard　at　the　last　port。　He　was　inclined　to
remonstrate；　and　to　express　his　opinion　that　people　who　couldn't　get　on
without　crying；　had　no　business　there。　In　manner；　if　not　in　words；　he
always　testified　his　displeasure　at　these　interruptions　of　the　general
harmony；　and　it　was　so　well　understood；　that　delinquents　usually
withdrew　if　they　were　aware　of　him。

On　this　Sunday　evening；　he　acpanied　his　brother　to　the　gate　with　an
air　of　endurance　and　clemency；　being　in　a　bland　temper　and　graciously
disposed　to　overlook　the　tears。　In　the　flaring　gaslight　of　the　Lodge；
several　Collegians　were　basking；　some　taking　leave　of　visitors；　and
some　who　had　no　visitors；　watching　the　frequent　turning　of　the　key；　and
conversing　with　one　another　and　with　Mr　Chivery。　The　paternal　entrance
made　a　sensation　of　course；　and　Mr　Chivery；　touching　his　hat　（in　a　short
manner　though）　with　his　key；　hoped　he　found　himself　tolerable。

'Thank　you；　Chivery；　quite　well。　And　you？'

Mr　Chivery　said　in　a　low　growl；　'Oh！　he　was　all　right。'　Which　was　his
general　way　of　acknowledging　inquiries　after　his　health　when　a　little
sullen。

'I　had　a　visit　from　Young　John　to…day；　Chivery。　And　very　smart　he
looked；　I　assure　you。'

So　Mr　Chivery　had　heard。　Mr　Chivery　must　confess；　however；　that　his　wish
was　that　the　boy　didn't　lay　out　so　much　money　upon　it。　For　what　did　it
bring　him　in？　It　only　brought　him　in　wexation。　And　he　could　get　that
anywhere　for　nothing。

'How　vexation；　Chivery？'　asked　the　benignant　father。

'No　odds；'　returned　Mr　Chivery。　'Never　mind。　Mr　Frederick　going　out？'

'Yes；　Chivery；　my　brother　is　going　home　to　bed。　He　is　tired；　and
not　quite　well。　Take　care；　Frederick；　take　care。　Good　night；　my　dear
Frederick！'

Shaking　hands　with　his　brother；　and　touching　his　greasy　hat　to　the
pany　in　the　Lodge；　Frederick　slowly　shuffled　out　of　the　door　which
Mr　Chivery　unlocked　for　him。　The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　showed　the
amiable　solicitude　of　a　superior　being　that　he　should　e　to　no　harm。

'Be　so　kind　as　to　keep　the　door　open　a　moment；　Chivery；　that　I　may　see
him　go　along　the　passage　and　down　the　steps。　Take　care；　Frederick！　（He
is　very　infirm。）　Mind　the　steps！　（He　is　so　very　absent。）　Be　careful
how　you　cross；　Frederick。　（I　really　don't　like　the　notion　of　his　going
wandering　at　large；　he　is　so　extremely　liable　to　be　run　over。）'

With　these　words；　and　with　a　face　expressive　of　many　uneasy　doubts　and
much　anxious　guardianship；　he　turned　his　regards　upon　the　assembled
pany　in　the　Lodge：　so　plainly　indicating　that　his　brother　was　to　be
pitied　for　not　being　under　lock　and　key；　that　an　opinion　to　that　effect
went　round　among　the　Collegians　assembled。

But　he　did　not　receive　it　with　unqualified　assent；　on　the　contrary；　he
said；　No；　gentlemen；　no；　let　them　not　misunderstand　him。　His　brother
Frederick　was　much　broken；　no　doubt；　and　it　might　be　more　fortable　to
himself　（the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea）　to　know　that　he　was　safe　within
the　walls。　Still；　it　must　be　remembered　that　to　support　an　existence
there　during　many　years；　required　a　certain　bination　of　qualities……he
did　not　say　high　qualities；　but　qualities……moral　qualities。　Now；　had　his
brother　Frederick　that　peculiar　union　of　qualities？　Gentlemen；　he　was　a
most　excellent　man；　a　most　gentle；　tender；　and　estimable　man；　with　the
simplicity　of　a　child；　but　would　he；　though　unsuited　for　most　other
places；　do　for　that　place？　No；　he　said　confidently；　no！　And；　he　said；
Heaven　forbid　that　Frederick　should　be　there　in　any　other　character
than　in　his　present　voluntary　character！　Gentlemen；　whoever　came　to
that　College；　to　remain　there　a　length　of　time；　must　have　strength　of
character　to　go　through　a　good　deal　and　to　e　out　of　a　good　deal。　Was
his　beloved　brother　Frederick　that　man？　No。　They　saw　him；　even　as　it
was；　crushed。　Misfortune　crushed　him。　He　had　not　power　of　recoil　enough；
not　elasticity　enough；　to　be　a　long　time　in　such　a　place；　and　yet
preserve　his　self…respect　and　feel　conscious　that　he　was　a　gentleman。
Frederick　had　not　（if　he　might　use　the　expression）　Power　enough　to　see
in　any　delicate　little　attentions　and……and……Testimonials　that　he　might
under　such　circumstances　receive；　the　goodness　of　human　nature；　the　fine
spirit　animating　the　Collegians　as　a　munity；　and　at　the　same　time
no　degradation　to　himself；　and　no　depreciation　of　his　claims　as　a
gentleman。　Gentlemen；　God　bless　you！

Such　was　the　homily　with　which　he　improved　and　pointed　the　occasion　to
the　pany　in　the　Lodge　before　turning　into　the　sallow　yard　again；
and　going　with　his　own　poor　shabby　dignity　past　the　Collegian　in　the
dressing…gown　who　had　no　coat；　and　past　the　Collegian　in　the　sea…side
slippers　who　had　no　shoes；　and　past　the　stout　greengrocer　Collegian　in
the　corduroy　knee…breeches　who　had　no　cares；　and　past　the　lean　clerk
Collegian　in　buttonless　black　who　had　no　hopes；　up　his　own　poor　shabby
staircase　to　his　own　poor　shabby　room。

There；　the　table　was　laid　for　his　supper；　and　his　old　grey　gown　was
ready　for　him　on　his　chair…back　at　the　fire。　His　daughter　put　her
little　prayer…book　in　her　pocket……had　she　been　praying　for　pity　on　all
prisoners　and　captives！……and　rose　to　wele　him。

Uncle　had　gone　home；　then？　she　asked　@　as　she　changed　his　coat　and
gave　him　his　black　velvet　cap。　Yes；　uncle　had　gone　home。　Had　her　father
enjoyed　his　walk？　Why；　not　much；　Amy；　not　much。　No！　Did　he　not　feel
quite　well？

As　she　stood　behind　him；　leaning　over　his　chair　so　lovingly；　he　looked
with　downcast　eyes　at　the　fire。　An　uneasiness　stole　over　him　that　was
like　a　touch　of　shame；　and　when　he　spoke；　as　he　presently　did；　it　was　in
an　unconnected　and　embarrassed　manner。

'Something；　I……hem！……I　don't　know　what；　has　gone　wrong　with　Chivery。
He　is　not……ha！……not　nearly　so　obliging　and　attentive　as　usual　to…night。
It……hem！……it's　a　little　thing；　but　it　puts　me　out；　my　love。　It's
impossible　to　forget；'　turning　his　hands　over　and　over　and　looking
c