little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第58章

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the　strangest　inconsistency。

'What　does　it　matter　whether　I　eat　or　starve？　What　does　it　matter
whether　such　a　blighted　life　as　mine　es　to　an　end；　now；　next　week；　or
next　year？　What　am　I　worth　to　anyone？　A　poor　prisoner；　fed　on　alms　and
broken　victuals；　a　squalid；　disgraced　wretch！'

'Father；　father！'　As　he　rose　she　went　on　her　knees　to　him；　and　held　up
her　hands　to　him。

'Amy；'　he　went　on　in　a　suppressed　voice；　trembling　violently；　and
looking　at　her　as　wildly　as　if　he　had　gone　mad。　'I　tell　you；　if　you
could　see　me　as　your　mother　saw　me；　you　wouldn't　believe　it　to　be　the
creature　you　have　only　looked　at　through　the　bars　of　this　cage。　I　was
young；　I　was　acplished；　I　was　good…looking；　I　was　independent……by　God
I　was；　child！……and　people　sought　me　out；　and　envied　me。　Envied　me！'

'Dear　father！'　She　tried　to　take　down　the　shaking　arm　that　he　flourished
in　the　air；　but　he　resisted；　and　put　her　hand　away。

'If　I　had　but　a　picture　of　myself　in　those　days；　though　it　was　ever　so
ill　done；　you　would　be　proud　of　it；　you　would　be　proud　of　it。　But　I　have
no　such　thing。　Now；　let　me　be　a　warning！　Let　no　man；'　he　cried；　looking
haggardly　about；　'fail　to　preserve　at　least　that　little　of　the　times　of
his　prosperity　and　respect。　Let　his　children　have　that　clue　to　what　he
was。　Unless　my　face；　when　I　am　dead；　subsides　into　the　long　departed
look……they　say　such　things　happen；　I　don't　know……my　children　will　have
never　seen　me。'

'Father；　father！'

'O　despise　me；　despise　me！　Look　away　from　me；　don't　listen　to　me；　stop
me；　blush　for　me；　cry　for　me……even　you；　Amy！　Do　it；　do　it！　I　do　it　to
myself！　I　am　hardened　now；　I　have　sunk　too　low　to　care　long　even　for
that。'

'Dear　father；　loved　father；　darling　of　my　heart！'　She　was　clinging　to
him　with　her　arms；　and　she　got　him　to　drop　into　his　chair　again；　and
caught　at　the　raised　arm；　and　tried　to　put　it　round　her　neck。

'Let　it　lie　there；　father。　Look　at　me；　father；　kiss　me；　father！　Only
think　of　me；　father；　for　one　little　moment！'

Still　he　went　on　in　the　same　wild　way；　though　it　was　gradually　breaking
down　into　a　miserable　whining。

'And　yet　I　have　some　respect　here。　I　have　made　some　stand　against　it。　I
am　not　quite　trodden　down。　Go　out　and　ask　who　is　the　chief　person　in　the
place。　They'll　tell　you　it's　your　father。　Go　out　and　ask　who　is　never
trifled　with；　and　who　is　always　treated　with　some　delicacy。　They'll　say；
your　father。　Go　out　and　ask　what　funeral　here　（it　must　be　here；　I　know
it　can　be　nowhere　else）　will　make　more　talk；　and　perhaps　more　grief；
than　any　that　has　ever　gone　out　at　the　gate。　They'll　say　your　father's。
Well　then。　Amy！　Amy！　Is　your　father　so　universally　despised？　Is　there
nothing　to　redeem　him？　Will　you　have　nothing　to　remember　him　by　but　his
ruin　and　decay？　Will　you　be　able　to　have　no　affection　for　him　when　he　is
gone；　poor　castaway；　gone？'

He　burst　into　tears　of　maudlin　pity　for　himself；　and　at　length　suffering
her　to　embrace　him　and　take　charge　of　him；　let　his　grey　head　rest
against　her　cheek；　and　bewailed　his　wretchedness。　Presently　he　changed
the　subject　of　his　lamentations；　and　clasping　his　hands　about　her　as　she
embraced　him；　cried；　O　Amy；　his　motherless；　forlorn　child！　O　the　days
that　he　had　seen　her　careful　and　laborious　for　him！　Then　he　reverted　to
himself；　and　weakly　told　her　how　much　better　she　would　have　loved　him
if　she　had　known　him　in　his　vanished　character；　and　how　he　would　have
married　her　to　a　gentleman　who　should　have　been　proud　of　her　as　his
daughter；　and　how　（at　which　he　cried　again）　she　should　first　have　ridden
at　his　fatherly　side　on　her　own　horse；　and　how　the　crowd　（by　which　he
meant　in　effect　the　people　who　had　given　him　the　twelve　shillings
he　then　had　in　his　pocket）　should　have　trudged　the　dusty　roads
respectfully。

Thus；　now　boasting；　now　despairing；　in　either　fit　a　captive　with　the
jail…rot　upon　him；　and　the　impurity　of　his　prison　worn　into　the　grain　of
his　soul；　he　revealed　his　degenerate　state　to　his　affectionate　child。
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