pretend to stand between your mother and you。'
'Will you tell her that I have e home？'
'Yes； Arthur； yes。 Oh； to be sure！ I'll tell her that you have e
home。 Please to wait here。 You won't find the room changed。'
He took another candle from a cupboard； lighted it； left the first on
the table； and went upon his errand。 He was a short； bald old man； in a
high…shouldered black coat and waistcoat； drab breeches； and long drab
gaiters。 He might； from his dress； have been either clerk or servant；
and in fact had long been both。 There was nothing about him in the way
of decoration but a watch； which was lowered into the depths of its
proper pocket by an old black ribbon； and had a tarnished copper key
moored above it； to show where it was sunk。 His head was awry； and
he had a one…sided； crab…like way with him； as if his foundations had
yielded at about the same time as those of the house； and he ought to
have been propped up in a similar manner。
'How weak am I；' said Arthur Clennam； when he was gone； 'that I could
shed tears at this reception！ I； who have never experienced anything
else； who have never expected anything else。' He not only could；
but did。 It was the momentary yielding of a nature that had been
disappointed from the dawn of its perceptions； but had not quite given
up all its hopeful yearnings yet。 He subdued it； took up the candle；
and examined the room。 The old articles of furniture were in their old
places； the Plagues of Egypt； much the dimmer for the fly and smoke
plagues of London； were framed and glazed upon the walls。 There was the
old cellaret with nothing in it； lined with lead； like a sort of coffin
in partments； there was the old dark closet； also with nothing in
it； of which he had been many a time the sole contents； in days of
punishment； when he had regarded it as the veritable entrance to that
bourne to which the tract had found him galloping。 There was the large；
hard…featured clock on the sideboard； which he used to see bending its
figured brows upon him with a savage joy when he was behind…hand with
his lessons； and which； when it was wound up once a week with an iron
handle； used to sound as if it were growling in ferocious anticipation
of the miseries into which it would bring him。 But here was the old man
e back； saying； 'Arthur； I'll go before and light you。'
Arthur followed him up the staircase； which was panelled off into spaces
like so many mourning tablets； into a dim bed…chamber； the floor of
which had gradually so sunk and settled； that the fire…place was in a
dell。 On a black bier…like sofa in this hollow； propped up behind with
one great angular black bolster like the block at a state execution in
the good old times； sat his mother in a widow's dress。
She and his father had been at variance from his earliest remembrance。
To sit speechless himself in the midst of rigid silence； glancing in
dread from the one averted face to the other； had been the peacefullest
occupation of his childhood。 She gave him one glassy kiss； and four
stiff fingers muffled in worsted。 This embrace concluded； he sat down on
the opposite side of her little table。 There was a fire in the grate；
as there had been night and day for fifteen years。 There was a kettle on
the hob； as there had been night and day for fifteen years。 There was a
little mound of damped ashes on the top of the fire； and another little
mound swept together under the grate； as there had been night and day
for fifteen years。 There was a smell of black dye in the airless room；
which the fire had been drawing out of the crape and stuff of the
widow's dress for fifteen months； and out of the bier…like sofa for
fifteen years。
'Mother； this is a change from your old active habits。'
'The world has narrowed to these dimensions； Arthur；' she rep lied；
glancing round the room。 'It is well for me that I never set my heart
upon its hollow vanities。'
The old influence of her presence and her stern strong voice； so
gathered about her son； that he felt conscious of a renewal of the timid
chill and reserve of his childhood。
'Do you never leave your room； mother？'
'What with my rheumatic affection； and what with its attendant debility
or nervous weakness……names are of no matter now……I have lost the use
of my limbs。 I never leave my room。 I have not been outside this door
for……tell him for how long；' she said； speaking over her shoulder。
'A dozen year next Christmas；' returned a cracked voice out of the
dimness behind。
'Is that Affery？' said Arthur； looking towards it。
The cracked voice replied that it was Affery： and an old woman came
forward into what doubtful light there was； and kissed her hand once；
then subsided again into the dimness。
'I am able；' said Mrs Clennam； with a slight motion of her
worsted…muffled right hand toward a chair on wheels； standing before a
tall writing cabi close shut up； 'I am able to attend to my business
duties； and I am thankful for the privilege。 It is a great privilege。
But no more of business on this day。 It is a bad night； is it not？'
'Yes； mother。'
'Does it snow？'
'Snow； mother？ And we only yet in September？'
'All seasons are alike to me；' she returned； with a grim kind of
luxuriousness。 'I know nothing of summer and winter； shut up here。
The Lord has been pleased to put me beyond all that。' With her cold grey
eyes and her cold grey hair； and her immovable face； as stiff as the
folds of her stony head…dress；……her being beyond the reach of the
seasons seemed but a fit sequence to her being beyond the reach of all
changing emotions。
On her little table lay two or three books； her handkerchief； a pair of
steel spectacles newly taken off； and an old…fashioned gold watch in a
heavy double case。 Upon this last object her son's eyes and her own now
rested together。
'I see that you received the packet I sent you on my father's death；
safely； mother。'
'You see。'
'I never knew my father to show so much anxiety on any subject； as that
his watch should be sent straight to you。'
'I keep it here as a remembrance of your father。'
'It was not until the last； that he expressed the wish； when he could
only put his hand upon it； and very indistinctly say to me 〃your
mother。〃 A moment before； I thought him wandering in his mind； as he
had been for many hours……I think he had no consciousness of pain in his
short illness……when I saw him turn himself in his bed and try to open
it。'
'Was your father； then； not wandering in his mind when he tried to open
it？'
'No。 He was quite sensible at that time。'
Mrs Clennam shook her head； whether in dismissal of the deceased or
opposing herself to her son's opinion； was not clearly expressed。
'After my father's death I opened it myself； thinking there might be；
for anything I knew； some memorandum there。 However； as I need not tell
you； mother； there was nothing but the old silk watch…paper worked in
beads； which you found （no doubt） in its place between the cases； where
I found and left it。'
Mrs Clennam signified assent； then added； 'No more of business on this
day；' and then added； 'Affery； it is nine o'clock。'
Upon this； the old woman cleared the little table； went out of the room；
and quickly returned with a tray on which was a dish of little rusks and
a small precise pat of butter； cool； symmetrical； white； and plump。 The
old man who had been standing by the door in one attitude during the
whole interview； looking at the mother up…stairs as he had looked at the
son down…stairs； went out at the same time； and； after a longer absence；
returned with another tray on which was the greater part of a bottle
of port wine （which； to judge by his panting； he had brought from the
cellar）； a lemon； a sugar…basin； and a spice box。 With these materials
and the aid of the kettle； he filled a tumbler with a hot and
odorous mixture； measured out and pounded with as much nicety as a
physician's prescription。 Into this mixture Mrs Clennam dipped certain
of the rusks； and ate them； while the old woman buttered certain other
of the rusks； which were to be eaten alone。 When the invalid had eaten
all the rusks and drunk all the mixture； the two trays were removed；
and the books and the candle； watch； handkerchief； and spectacles were
replaced upon the table。 She then put on the spectacles and read certain
passages aloud from a book……sternly； fiercely； wrathfully……praying that
her enemies （she made them by her tone and manner expressly hers） might
be put to the edge of the sword； consumed by fire； smitten by plagues
and leprosy； that their bones might be ground to dust； and that they
might be utterly exterminated。 As she read on； years seemed to fall
away from her son like the imaginings of a dream； and all the old dark
horrors of his usual preparation for the sleep of an innocent child to
overshadow him。
She shut the book and remained for a little time with her face shaded by
her hand。 So did the old man； otherwise still unchanged in attitude； so；
probably； did the old woman in her dimmer part of the room。 Then the
sick woman was ready for bed。
'Good night； Arthur。 Affery will see to your acmodation。 Only touch
me； for my hand is tender。' He touched the worsted muffling of her
hand……that was nothing； if his mother had been sheathed in brass there
would have been no new barrier between them……and followed the old man
and woman down…stairs。
The latter asked him； when they were alone together among the heavy
shadows of the dining…room； would he have some supper？
'No； Affery； no supper。'
'You shall if you like；' said Affery。 'There's her tomorrow's partridge
in the larder……her first this year； say the word and I'll cook it。'
No； he had not long dined； and could eat nothing。
'Have something to drink； then；' said Affery； 'you shall have some of
her bottle of port； if you like。 I'll tell Jeremiah that you ordered me
to bring it you。'
No； nor would he have that； either。
'It's no reason； Arthur；' said the old woman； bending over him to
whisper； 'that because I am afeared of my life of 'em； you should be。
You've got half the property； haven't you？'
'Yes； yes。'
'Well then； don't you be cowed。 You're clever； Arthur； an't you？' He
nodded； as she seemed to expect an answer in the affirmative。 'Then
stand up against them！ She's awful clever； and none but a clever one
durst say a word to her。 HE'S a clever one……oh； he's a clever one！……and
he gives it her when he has a mind to't； he does！'
'Your husband does？'
'Does？ It makes me shake from head to foot； to hear him give it her。 My
husband； Jeremiah Flintother。 What can he
be but a clever one to do that！'
His shuffling footstep ing towards them caused her to retreat to the
other end of the room。 Though a tall； hard…favoured； sinewy old woman；
who in her youth might have enlisted in the Foot Guards without much
fear of discovery； she collapsed before the little keen…eyed crab…like
old man。
'Now； Affery；' said he； 'now； woman； what are you doing？ Can't you find
Master Arthur something or another to pick at？'
Master Arthur repeated his recent refusal to pick at anything。
'Very well； then；' said the old man； 'make his bed。 Stir yourself。' His
neck