No one else ever beheld him in the details of his humiliation。 Little
recked the Collegians who were laughing in their rooms over his late
address in the Lodge； what a serious picture they had in their obscure
gallery of the Marshalsea that Sunday night。
There was a classical daughter once……perhaps……who ministered to her
father in his prison as her mother had ministered to her。 Little Dorrit；
though of the unheroic modern stock and mere English； did much more；
in forting her father's wasted heart upon her innocent breast； and
turning to it a fountain of love and fidelity that never ran dry or
waned through all his years of famine。
She soothed him； asked him for his forgiveness if she had been； or
seemed to have been； undutiful； told him； Heaven knows truly； that she
could not honour him more if he were the favourite of Fortune and the
whole world acknowledged him。 When his tears were dried； and he sobbed
in his weakness no longer； and was free from that touch of shame； and
had recovered his usual bearing； she prepared the remains of his supper
afresh； and； sitting by his side； rejoiced to see him eat and drink。 For
now he sat in his black velvet cap and old grey gown； magnanimous again；
and would have ported himself towards any Collegian who might have
looked in to ask his advice； like a great moral Lord Chesterfield； or
Master of the ethical ceremonies of the Marshalsea。
To keep his attention engaged； she talked with him about his wardrobe；
when he was pleased to say； that Yes； indeed； those shirts she proposed
would be exceedingly acceptable； for those he had were worn out； and；
being ready…made； had never fitted him。 Being conversational； and in a
reasonable flow of spirits； he then invited her attention to his coat
as it hung behind the door： remarking that the Father of the place
would set an indifferent example to his children； already disposed to be
slovenly； if he went among them out at elbows。 He was jocular； too；
as to the heeling of his shoes； but became grave on the subject of his
cravat； and promised her that； when she could afford it； she should buy
him a new one。
While he smoked out his cigar in peace； she made his bed； and put the
small room in order for his repose。 Being weary then； owing to the
advanced hour and his emotions； he came out of his chair to bless her
and wish her Good night。 All this time he had never once thought of HER
dress； her shoes； her need of anything。 No other person upon earth； save
herself； could have been so unmindful of her wants。
He kissed her many times with 'Bless you； my love。 Good night； MY dear！'
But her gentle breast had been so deeply wounded by what she had seen of
him that she was unwilling to leave him alone； lest he should lament
and despair again。 'Father； dear； I am not tired； let me e back
presently； when you are in bed； and sit by you。'
He asked her； with an air of protection； if she felt solitary？
'Yes； father。'
'Then e back by all means； my love。'
'I shall be very quiet； father。'
'Don't think of me； my dear；' he said； giving her his kind permission
fully。 'e back by all means。'
He seemed to be dozing when she returned； and she put the low fire
together very softly lest she should awake him。 But he overheard her；
and called out who was that？
'Only Amy； father。'
'Amy； my child； e here。 I want to say a word to you。' He raised
himself a little in his low bed； as she kneeled beside it to bring her
face near him； and put his hand between hers。 O！ Both the private father
and the Father of the Marshalsea were strong within him then。
'My love； you have had a life of hardship here。 No panions； no
recreations； many cares I am afraid？'
'Don't think of that； dear。 I never do。'
'You know my position； Amy。 I have not been able to do much for you； but
all I have been able to do； I have done。'
'Yes； my dear father；' she rejoined； kissing him。 'I know； I know。'
'I am in the twenty…third year of my life here；' he said； with a catch
in his breath that was not so much a sob as an irrepressible sound of
self…approval； the momentary outburst of a noble consciousness。 'It is
all I could do for my children……I have done it。 Amy； my love； you are
by far the best loved of the three； I have had you principally in my
mind……whatever I have done for your sake； my dear child； I have done
freely and without murmuring。'
Only the wisdom that holds the clue to all hearts and all mysteries； can
surely know to what extent a man； especially a man brought down as this
man had been； can impose upon himself。 Enough； for the present place；
that he lay down with wet eyelashes； serene； in a manner majestic； after
bestowing his life of degradation as a sort of portion on the devoted
child upon whom its miseries had fallen so heavily； and whose love alone
had saved him to be even what he was。
That child had no doubts； asked herself no question； for she was but too
content to see him with a lustre round his head。 Poor dear； good dear；
truest； kindest； dearest； were the only words she had for him； as she
hushed him to rest。
She never left him all that night。 As if she had done him a wrong which
her tenderness could hardly repair； she sat by him in his sleep； at
times softly kissing him with suspended breath； and calling him in a
whisper by some endearing name。 At times she stood aside so as not to
intercept the low fire…light； and； watching him when it fell upon his
sleeping face； wondered did he look now at all as he had looked when he
was prosperous and happy； as he had so touched her by imagining that he
might look once more in that awful time。 At the thought of that time；
she kneeled beside his bed again； and prayed； 'O spare his life！ O
save him to me！ O look down upon my dear； long…suffering； unfortunate；
much…changed； dear dear father！'
Not until the morning came to protect him and encourage him； did she
give him a last kiss and leave the small room。 When she had stolen
down…stairs； and along the empty yard； and had crept up to her own
high garret； the smokeless housetops and the distant country hills were
discernible over the wall in the clear morning。 As she gently opened the
window； and looked eastward down the prison yard； the spikes upon the
wall were tipped with red； then made a sullen purple pattern on the sun
as it came flaming up into the heavens。 The spikes had never looked so
sharp and cruel； nor the bars so heavy； nor the prison space so gloomy
and contracted。 She thought of the sunrise on rolling rivers； of the
sunrise on wide seas； of the sunrise on rich landscapes； of the
sunrise on great forests where the birds were waking and the trees were
rustling； and she looked down into the living grave on which the sun
had risen； with her father in it three…and…twenty years； and said； in
a burst of sorrow and passion； 'No； no； I have never seen him in my
life！'
CHAPTER 20。 Moving in Society
If Young John Chivery had had the inclination and the power to write a
satire on family pride； he would have had no need to go for an avenging
illustration out of the family of his beloved。 He would have found it
amply in that gallant brother and that dainty sister； so steeped in mean
experiences； and so loftily conscious of the family name； so ready
to beg or borrow from the poorest； to eat of anybody's bread； spend
anybody's money； drink from anybody's cup and break it afterwards。
To have painted the sordid facts of their lives； and they throughout
invoking the death's head apparition of the family gentility to e and
scare their benefactors； would have made Young John a satirist of the
first water。
Tip had turned his liberty to hopeful account by being a
billiard…marker。 He had troubled himself so little as to the means of
his release； that Clennam scarcely needed to have been at the pains of
impressing the mind of Mr Plornish on that subject。 Whoever had paid
him the pliment； he very readily accepted the pliment with HIS
pliments； and there was an end of it。 Issuing forth from the gate
on these easy terms； he became a billiard…marker； and now occasionally
looked in at the little skittle…ground in a green Newmarket coat
（second…hand）； with a shining collar and bright buttons （new）； and drank
the beer of the Collegians。
One solid stationary point in the looseness of this gentleman's
character was； that he respected and admired his sister Amy。 The feeling
had never induced him to spare her a moment's uneasiness； or to put
himself to any restraint or inconvenience on her account； but with that
Marshalsea taint upon his love； he loved her。 The same rank Marshalsea
flavour was to be recognised in his distinctly perceiving that she
sacrificed her life to her father； and in his having no idea that she
had done anything for himself。
When this spirited young man and his sister had begun systematically
to produce the family skeleton for the overawing of the College； this
narrative cannot precisely state。 Probably at about the period when
they began to dine on the College charity。 It is certain that the more
reduced and necessitous they were； the more pompously the skeleton
emerged from its tomb； and that when there was anything particularly
shabby in the wind； the skeleton always came out with the ghastliest
flourish。
Little Dorrit was late on the Monday morning； for her father slept
late； and afterwards there was his breakfast to prepare and his room to
arrange。 She had no engagement to go out to work； however； and therefore
stayed with him until； with Maggy's help； she had put everything right
about him； and had seen him off upon his morning walk （of twenty yards
or so） to the coffee…house to read the paper。
She then got on her bon and went out； having been anxious to get out
much sooner。 There was； as usual； a cessation of the small…talk in
the Lodge as she passed through it； and a Collegian who had e in
on Saturday night； received the intimation from the elbow of a more
seasoned Collegian； 'Look out。 Here she is！' She wanted to see her
sister； but when she got round to Mr Cripples's； she found that both her
sister and her uncle had gone to the theatre where they were engaged。
Having taken thought of this probability by the way； and having settled
that in such case she would follow them； she set off afresh for the
theatre； which was on that side of the river； and not very far away。
Little Dorrit was almost as ignorant of the ways of theatres as of the
ways of gold mines； and when she was directed to a furtive sort of door；
with a curious up…all…night air about it； that appeared to be ashamed of
itself and to be hiding in an alley； she hesitated to approach it； being
further deterred by the sight of some half…dozen close…shaved gentlemen
with their hats very strangely on； who were lounging about the door；
looking not at all unlike Collegians。 On her applying to them； reassured
by this resemblance； for a direction to Miss Dorrit； they made way for
her to enter a dark hall……it was more like a great grim lamp gone out
than anything else……where she could hear the distant playing of music
and the sound of dancing feet。 A man so much in want of airing that he
had a blue mould upon him； sat watching this dar