little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第172章

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It　had　long　been　customary；　as　she　never　changed　her　room；　for　those　who
had　anything　to　say　to　her　apart；　to　wheel　her　to　her　desk；　where　she
sat；　usually　with　the　back　of　her　chair　turned　towards　the　rest　of　the
room；　and　the　person　who　talked　with　her　seated　in　a　corner；　on　a　stool
which　was　always　set　in　that　place　for　that　purpose。　Except　that　it
was　long　since　the　mother　and　son　had　spoken　together　without　the
intervention　of　a　third　person；　it　was　an　ordinary　matter　of　course
within　the　experience　of　visitors　for　Mrs　Clennam　to　be　asked；　with　a
word　of　apology　for　the　interruption；　if　she　could　be　spoken　with　on
a　matter　of　business；　and；　on　her　replying　in　the　affirmative；　to　be
wheeled　into　the　position　described。

Therefore；　when　Arthur　now　made　such　an　apology；　and　such　a　request；
and　moved　her　to　her　desk　and　seated　himself　on　the　stool；　Mrs　Finching
merely　began　to　talk　louder　and　faster；　as　a　delicate　hint　that　she
could　overhear　nothing；　and　Mr　Casby　stroked　his　long　white　locks　with
sleepy　calmness。

'Mother；　I　have　heard　something　to…day　which　I　feel　persuaded　you　don't
know；　and　which　I　think　you　should　know；　of　the　antecedents　of　that　man
I　saw　here。'

'I　know　nothing　of　the　antecedents　of　the　man　you　saw　here；　Arthur。'

She　spoke　aloud。　He　had　lowered　his　own　voice；　but　she　rejected　that
advance　towards　confidence　as　she　rejected　every　other；　and　spoke　in　her
usual　key　and　in　her　usual　stern　voice。

'I　have　received　it　on　no　circuitous　information；　it　has　e　to　me
direct。'　She　asked　him；　exactly　as　before；　if　he　were　there　to　tell　her
what　it　was？

'I　thought　it　right　that　you　should　know　it。'

'And　what　is　it？'

'He　has　been　a　prisoner　in　a　French　gaol。'

She　answered　with　posure；　'I　should　think　that　very　likely。'

'But　in　a　gaol　for　criminals；　mother。　On　an　accusation　of　murder。'

She　started　at　the　word；　and　her　looks　expressed　her　natural　horror。　Yet
she　still　spoke　aloud；　when　she　demanded：……

'Who　told　you　so？'

'A　man　who　was　his　fellow…prisoner。'

'That　man's　antecedents；　I　suppose；　were　not　known　to　you；　before　he
told　you？'

'No。'

'Though　the　man　himself　was？'

'Yes。'

'My　case　and　Flintwinch's；　in　respect　of　this　other　man！　I　dare　say　the
resemblance　is　not　so　exact；　though；　as　that　your　informant　became　known
to　you　through　a　letter　from　a　correspondent　with　whom　he　had　deposited
money？　How　does　that　part　of　the　parallel　stand？'

Arthur　had　no　choice　but　to　say　that　his　informant　had　not　bee　known
to　him　through　the　agency　of　any　such　credentials；　or　indeed　of　any
credentials　at　all。　Mrs　Clennam's　attentive　frown　expanded　by　degrees
into　a　severe　look　of　triumph；　and　she　retorted　with　emphasis；　'Take
care　how　you　judge　others；　then。　I　say　to　you；　Arthur；　for　your　good；
take　care　how　you　judge！'　Her　emphasis　had　been　derived　from　her　eyes
quite　as　much　as　from　the　stress　she　laid　upon　her　words。　She　continued
to　look　at　him；　and　if；　when　he　entered　the　house；　he　had　had　any　latent
hope　of　prevailing　in　the　least　with　her；　she　now　looked　it　out　of　his
heart。

'Mother；　shall　I　do　nothing　to　assist　you？'

'Nothing。'

'Will　you　entrust　me　with　no　confidence；　no　charge；　no　explanation？

Will　you　take　no　counsel　with　me？　Will　you　not　let　me　e　near　you？'

'How　can　you　ask　me？　You　separated　yourself　from　my　affairs。　It　was　not
my　act；　it　was　yours。　How　can　you　consistently　ask　me　such　a　question？
You　know　that　you　left　me　to　Flintwinch；　and　that　he　occupies　your
place。'

Glancing　at　Jeremiah；　Clennam　saw　in　his　very　gaiters　that　his　attention
was　closely　directed　to　them；　though　he　stood　leaning　against　the　wall
scraping　his　jaw；　and　pretended　to　listen　to　Flora　as　she　held　forth　in
a　most　distracting　manner　on　a　chaos　of　subjects；　in　which　mackerel；　and
Mr　F。's　Aunt　in　a　swing；　had　bee　entangled　with　cockchafers　and　the
wine　trade。

'A　prisoner；　in　a　French　gaol；　on　an　accusation　of　murder；'　repeated
Mrs　Clennam；　steadily　going　over　what　her　son　had　said。　'That　is　all　you
know　of　him　from　the　fellow…prisoner？'

'In　substance；　all。'

'And　was　the　fellow…prisoner　his　acplice　and　a　murderer；　too？　But；　of
course；　he　gives　a　better　account　of　himself　than　of　his　friend；　it　is
needless　to　ask。　This　will　supply　the　rest　of　them　here　with　something
new　to　talk　about。　Casby；　Arthur　tells　me……'

'Stay；　mother！　Stay；　stay！'　He　interrupted　her　hastily；　for　it　had　not
entered　his　imagination　that　she　would　openly　proclaim　what　he　had　told
her。

'What　now？'　she　said　with　displeasure。　'What　more？'


'I　beg　you　to　excuse　me；　Mr　Casby……and　you；　too；　Mrs　Finching……for　one
other　moment　with　my　mother……'

He　had　laid　his　hand　upon　her　chair；　or　she　would　otherwise　have　wheeled
it　round　with　the　touch　of　her　foot　upon　the　ground。　They　were　still
face　to　face。　She　looked　at　him；　as　he　ran　over　the　possibilities　of
some　result　he　had　not　intended；　and　could　not　foresee；　being　influenced
by　Cavalletto's　disclosure　being　a　matter　of　notoriety；　and　hurriedly
arrived　at　the　conclusion　that　it　had　best　not　be　talked　about；　though
perhaps　he　was　guided　by　no　more　distinct　reason　than　that　he　had　taken
it　for　granted　that　his　mother　would　reserve　it　to　herself　and　her
partner。

'What　now？'　she　said　again；　impatiently。　'What　is　it？'

'I　did　not　mean；　mother；　that　you　should　repeat　what　I　have
municated。　I　think　you　had　better　not　repeat　it。'

'Do　you　make　that　a　condition　with　me？'

'Well！　Yes。'

'Observe；　then！　It　is　you　who　make　this　a　secret；'　said　she；　holding
up　her　hand；　'and　not　I。　It　is　you；　Arthur；　who　bring　here　doubts　and
suspicions　and　entreaties　for　explanations；　and　it　is　you；　Arthur；　who
bring　secrets　here。　What　is　it　to　me；　do　you　think；　where　the　man　has
been；　or　what　he　has　been？　What　can　it　be　to　me？　The　whole　world　may
know　it；　if　they　care　to　know　it；　it　is　nothing　to　me。　Now；　let　me　go。'

He　yielded　to　her　imperious　but　elated　look；　and　turned　her　chair　back
to　the　place　from　which　he　had　wheeled　it。　In　doing　so　he　saw　elation
in　the　face　of　Mr　Flintwinch；　which　most　assuredly　was　not　inspired　by
Flora。　This　turning　of　his　intelligence　and　of　his　whole　attempt　and
design　against　himself；　did　even　more　than　his　mother's　fixedness　and
firmness　to　convince　him　that　his　efforts　with　her　were　idle。　Nothing
remained　but　the　appeal　to　his　old　friend　Affery。

But　even　to　get　the　very　doubtful　and　preliminary　stage　of　making　the
appeal；　seemed　one　of　the　least　promising　of　human　undertakings。　She
was　so　pletely　under　the　thrall　of　the　two　clever　ones；　was　so
systematically　kept　in　sight　by　one　or　other　of　them；　and　was　so　afraid
to　go　about　the　house　besides；　that　every　opportunity　of　speaking　to　her
alone　appeared　to　be　forestalled。　Over　and　above　that；　Mistress　Affery；
by　some　means　（it　was　not　very　difficult　to　guess；　through　the　sharp
arguments　of　her　liege　lord）；　had　acquired　such　a　lively　conviction
of　the　hazard　of　saying　anything　under　any　circumstances；　that　she　had
remained　all　this　time　in　a　corner　guarding　herself　from　approach　with
that　symbolical　instrument　of　hers；　so　that；　when　a　word　or　two　had
been　addressed　to　her　by　Flora；　or　even　by　the　bottle…green　patriarch
himself；　she　had　warded　off　conversation　with　the　toasting…fork　like　a
dumb　woman。

After　several　abortive　attempts　to　get　Affery　to　look　at　him　while
she　cleared　the　table　and　washed　the　tea…service；　Arthur　thought　of　an
expedient　which　Flora　might　originate。　To　whom　he　therefore　whispered；
'Could　you　say　you　would　like　to　go　through　the　house？'

Now；　poor　Flora；　being　always　in　fluctuating　expectation　of　the　time
when　Clennam　would　renew　his　boyhood　and　be　madly　in　love　with　her
again；　received　the　whisper　with　the　utmost　delight；　not　only　as
rendered　precious　by　its　mysterious　character；　but　as　preparing　the
way　for　a　tender　interview　in　which　he　would　declare　the　state　of　his
affections。　She　immediately　began　to　work　out　the　hint。

'Ah　dear　me　the　poor　old　room；'　said　Flora；　glancing　round；　'looks　just
as　ever　Mrs　Clennam　I　am　touched　to　see　except　for　being　smokier　which
was　to　be　expected　with　time　and　which　we　must　all　expect　and　reconcile
ourselves　to　being　whether　we　like　it　or　not　as　I　am　sure　I　have　had　to
do　myself　if　not　exactly　smokier　dreadfully　stouter　which　is　the　same　or
worse；　to　think　of　the　days　when　papa　used　to　bring　me　here　the　least　of
girls　a　perfect　mass　of　chilblains　to　be　stuck　upon　a　chair　with　my　feet
on　the　rails　and　stare　at　Arthur……pray　excuse　me……Mr　Clennam……the
least　of　boys　in　the　frightfullest　of　frills　and　jackets　ere　yet　Mr
F。　appeared　a　misty　shadow　on　the　horizon　paying　attentions　like　the
well…known　spectre　of　some　place　in　Germany　beginning　with　a　B　is　a
moral　lesson　inculcating　that　all　the　paths　in　life　are　similar　to　the
paths　down　in　the　North　of　England　where　they　get　the　coals　and　make　the
iron　and　things　gravelled　with　ashes！'

Having　paid　the　tribute　of　a　sigh　to　the　instability　of　human　existence；
Flora　hurried　on　with　her　purpose。

'Not　that　at　any　time；'　she　proceeded；　'its　worst　enemy　could　have　said
it　was　a　cheerful　house　for　that　it　was　never　made　to　be　but　always
highly　impressive；　fond　memory　recalls　a