little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第18章

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'What　would　you　do？'　he　asked。

'I'd　e　back　to　see　you；　after　I　was　let　out。'

'Give　me　the　money　again；'　said　the　other；　eagerly；　'and　I'll　keep　it；
and　never　spend　it。　Thank　you　for　it；　thank　you！　I　shall　see　you　again？'
'If　I　live　a　week　you　shall。'

They　shook　hands　and　parted。　The　collegians；　assembled　in　Symposium　in
the　Snuggery　that　night；　marvelled　what　had　happened　to　their　Father；　he
walked　so　late　in　the　shadows　of　the　yard；　and　seemed　so　downcast。




CHAPTER　7。　The　Child　of　the　Marshalsea


The　baby　whose　first　draught　of　air　had　been　tinctured　with　Doctor
Haggage's　brandy；　was　handed　down　among　the　generations　of　collegians；
like　the　tradition　of　their　mon　parent。　In　the　earlier　stages　of　her
existence；　she　was　handed　down　in　a　literal　and　prosaic　sense；　it　being
almost　a　part　of　the　entrance　footing　of　every　new　collegian　to　nurse
the　child　who　had　been　born　in　the　college。

'By　rights；'　remarked　the　turnkey　when　she　was　first　shown　to　him；　'I
ought　to　be　her　godfather。'

The　debtor　irresolutely　thought　of　it　for　a　minute；　and　said；　'Perhaps
you　wouldn't　object　to　really　being　her　godfather？'

'Oh！　_I_　don't　object；'　replied　the　turnkey；　'if　you　don't。'

Thus　it　came　to　pass　that　she　was　christened　one　Sunday　afternoon；　when
the　turnkey；　being　relieved；　was　off　the　lock；　and　that　the　turnkey
went　up　to　the　font　of　Saint　George's　Church；　and　promised　and　vowed　and
renounced　on　her　behalf；　as　he　himself　related　when　he　came　back；　'like
a　good　'un。'

This　invested　the　turnkey　with　a　new　proprietary　share　in　the　child；
over　and　above　his　former　official　one。　When　she　began　to　walk　and　talk；
he　became　fond　of　her；　bought　a　little　arm…chair　and　stood　it　by　the
high　fender　of　the　lodge　fire…place；　liked　to　have　her　pany　when　he
was　on　the　lock；　and　used　to　bribe　her　with　cheap　toys　to　e　and　talk
to　him。　The　child；　for　her　part；　soon　grew　so　fond　of　the　turnkey　that
she　would　e　climbing　up　the　lodge…steps　of　her　own　accord　at　all
hours　of　the　day。　When　she　fell　asleep　in　the　little　armchair　by　the
high　fender；　the　turnkey　would　cover　her　with　his　pocket…handkerchief；
and　when　she　sat　in　it　dressing　and　undressing　a　doll　which　soon　came
to　be　unlike　dolls　on　the　other　side　of　the　lock；　and　to　bear　a　horrible
family　resemblance　to　Mrs　Bangham……he　would　contemplate　her　from　the
top　of　his　stool　with　exceeding　gentleness。　Witnessing　these　things；
the　collegians　would　express　an　opinion　that　the　turnkey；　who　was　a
bachelor；　had　been　cut　out　by　nature　for　a　family　man。　But　the　turnkey
thanked　them；　and　said；　'No；　on　the　whole　it　was　enough　to　see　other
people's　children　there。'　At　what　period　of　her　early　life　the　little
creature　began　to　perceive　that　it　was　not　the　habit　of　all　the　world　to
live　locked　up　in　narrow　yards　surrounded　by　high　walls　with　spikes　at
the　top；　would　be　a　difficult　question　to　settle。　But　she　was　a　very；
very　little　creature　indeed；　when　she　had　somehow　gained　the　knowledge
that　her　clasp　of　her　father's　hand　was　to　be　always　loosened　at　the
door　which　the　great　key　opened；　and　that　while　her　own　light　steps　were
free　to　pass　beyond　it；　his　feet　must　never　cross　that　line。　A　pitiful
and　plaintive　look；　with　which　she　had　begun　to　regard　him　when　she　was
still　extremely　young；　was　perhaps　a　part　of　this　discovery。

With　a　pitiful　and　plaintive　look　for　everything；　indeed；　but　with
something　in　it　for　only　him　that　was　like　protection；　this　Child　of
the　Marshalsea　and　the　child　of　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　sat　by　her
friend　the　turnkey　in　the　lodge；　kept　the　family　room；　or　wandered　about
the　prison…yard；　for　the　first　eight　years　of　her　life。　With　a　pitiful
and　plaintive　look　for　her　wayward　sister；　for　her　idle　brother；　for　the
high　blank　walls；　for　the　faded　crowd　they　shut　in；　for　the　games　of　the
prison　children　as　they　whooped　and　ran；　and　played　at　hide…and…seek；
and　made　the　iron　bars　of　the　inner　gateway　'Home。'

Wistful　and　wondering；　she　would　sit　in　summer　weather　by　the　high
fender　in　the　lodge；　looking　up　at　the　sky　through　the　barred　window；
until；　when　she　turned　her　eyes　away；　bars　of　light　would　arise　between
her　and　her　friend；　and　she　would　see　him　through　a　grating；　too。
'Thinking　of　the　fields；'　the　turnkey　said　once；　after　watching　her；
'ain't　you？'

'Where　are　they？'　she　inquired。

'Why；　they're……over　there；　my　dear；'　said　the　turnkey；　with　a　vague
flourish　of　his　key。　'Just　about　there。'

'Does　anybody　open　them；　and　shut　them？　Are　they　locked？'

The　turnkey　was　disfited。　'Well；'　he　said。　'Not　in　general。'

'Are　they　very　pretty；　Bob？'　She　called　him　Bob；　by　his　own　particular
request　and　instruction。

'Lovely。　Full　of　flowers。　There's　buttercups；　and　there's　daisies；
and　there's'……the　turnkey　hesitated；　being　short　of　floral
nomenclature……'there's　dandelions；　and　all　manner　of　games。'

'Is　it　very　pleasant　to　be　there；　Bob？'

'Prime；'　said　the　turnkey。

'Was　father　ever　there？'

'Hem！'　coughed　the　turnkey。　'O　yes；　he　was　there；　sometimes。'

'Is　he　sorry　not　to　be　there　now？'

'N…not　particular；'　said　the　turnkey。

'Nor　any　of　the　people？'　she　asked；　glancing　at　the　listless　crowd
within。　'O　are　you　quite　sure　and　certain；　Bob？'

At　this　difficult　point　of　the　conversation　Bob　gave　in；　and　changed　the
subject　to　hard…bake：　always　his　last　resource　when　he　found　his　little
friend　getting　him　into　a　political；　social；　or　theological　corner。
But　this　was　the　origin　of　a　series　of　Sunday　excursions　that　these　two
curious　panions　made　together。　They　used　to　issue　from　the　lodge　on
alternate　Sunday　afternoons　with　great　gravity；　bound　for　some　meadows
or　green　lanes　that　had　been　elaborately　appointed　by　the　turnkey　in
the　course　of　the　week；　and　there　she　picked　grass　and　flowers　to　bring
home；　while　he　smoked　his　pipe。　Afterwards；　there　were　tea…gardens；
shrimps；　ale；　and　other　delicacies；　and　then　they　would　e　back　hand
in　hand；　unless　she　was　more　than　usually　tired；　and　had　fallen　asleep
on　his　shoulder。

In　those　early　days；　the　turnkey　first　began　profoundly　to　consider
a　question　which　cost　him　so　much　mental　labour；　that　it　remained
undetermined　on　the　day　of　his　death。　He　decided　to　will　and　bequeath
his　little　property　of　savings　to　his　godchild；　and　the　point　arose　how
could　it　be　so　'tied　up'　as　that　only　she　should　have　the　benefit　of
it？　His　experience　on　the　lock　gave　him　such　an　acute　perception　of　the
enormous　difficulty　of　'tying　up'　money　with　any　approach　to　tightness；
and　contrariwise　of　the　remarkable　ease　with　which　it　got　loose；　that
through　a　series　of　years　he　regularly　propounded　this　knotty　point　to
every　new　insolvent　agent　and　other　professional　gentleman　who　passed　in
and　out。

'Supposing；'　he　would　say；　stating　the　case　with　his　key　on　the
professional　gentleman's　waistcoat；　'supposing　a　man　wanted　to　leave　his
property　to　a　young　female；　and　wanted　to　tie　it　up　so　that　nobody　else
should　ever　be　able　to　make　a　grab　at　it；　how　would　you　tie　up　that
property？'

'Settle　it　strictly　on　herself；'　the　professional　gentleman　would
placently　answer。

'But　look　here；'　quoth　the　turnkey。　'Supposing　she　had；　say　a　brother；
say　a　father；　say　a　husband；　who　would　be　likely　to　make　a　grab　at　that
property　when　she　came　into　it……how　about　that？'

'It　would　be　settled　on　herself；　and　they　would　have　no　more　legal　claim
on　it　than　you；'　would　be　the　professional　answer。

'Stop　a　bit；'　said　the　turnkey。　'Supposing　she　was　tender…hearted；　and
they　came　over　her。　Where's　your　law　for　tying　it　up　then？'

The　deepest　character　whom　the　turnkey　sounded；　was　unable　to　produce
his　law　for　tying　such　a　knot　as　that。　So；　the　turnkey　thought　about　it
all　his　life；　and　died　intestate　after　all。

But　that　was　long　afterwards；　when　his　god…daughter　was　past　sixteen。
The　first　half　of　that　space　of　her　life　was　only　just　acplished；
when　her　pitiful　and　plaintive　look　saw　her　father　a　widower。　From　that
time　the　protection　that　her　wondering　eyes　had　expressed　towards　him；
became　embodied　in　action；　and　the　Child　of　the　Marshalsea　took　upon
herself　a　new　relation　towards　the　Father。

At　first；　such　a　baby　could　do　little　more　than　sit　with　him；　deserting
her　livelier　place　by　the　high　fender；　and　quietly　watching　him。　But
this　made　her　so　far　necessary　to　him　that　he　became　accustomed　to　her；
and　began　to　be　sensible　of　missing　her　when　she　was　not　there。　Through
this　little　gate；　she　passed　out　of　childhood　into　the　care…laden　world。

What　her　pitiful　look　saw；　at　that　early　time；　in　her　father；　in　her
sister；　in　her　brother；　in　the　jail；　how　much；　or　how　little　of　the
wretched　truth　it　pleased　God　to　make　visible　to　her；　lies　hidden　with
many　mysteries。　It　is　enough　that　she　was　inspired　to　be　something　which
was　not　what　the　rest　were；　and　to　be　that　something；　different　and
laborious；　for　the　sake　of　the　rest。　Inspired？　Yes。　Shall　we　speak　of
the　inspiration　of　a　poet　or　a　priest；　and　not　of　the　heart　impelled　by
love　and　self…devotion　to　the　lowliest　work　in　the　lowliest　way　of　life！

With　no　earthly　friend　to　help　her；　or　so　much　as　to　see　her；　but　the
one　so　strangely　assorted；　with　no　knowledge　even