little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第119章

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His　first　disappointment；　on　arriving　at　the　house；　was　to　find　the　door
open；　and　Mr　Flintwinch　smoking　a　pipe　on　the　steps。　If　circumstances
had　been　monly　favourable；　Mistress　Affery　would　have　opened　the
door　to　his　knock。　Circumstances　being　unmonly　unfavourable；　the　door
stood　open；　and　Mr　Flintwinch　was　smoking　his　pipe　on　the　steps。

'Good　evening；'　said　Arthur。

'Good　evening；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch。

The　smoke　came　crookedly　out　of　Mr　Flintwinch's　mouth；　as　if　it
circulated　through　the　whole　of　his　wry　figure　and　came　back　by　his　wry
throat；　before　ing　forth　to　mingle　with　the　smoke　from　the　crooked
chimneys　and　the　mists　from　the　crooked　river。

'Have　you　any　news？'　said　Arthur。

'We　have　no　news；'　said　Jeremiah。

'I　mean　of　the　foreign　man；'　Arthur　explained。

_'I_　mean　of　the　foreign　man；'　said　Jeremiah。

He　looked　so　grim；　as　he　stood　askew；　with　the　knot　of　his　cravat　under
his　ear；　that　the　thought　passed　into　Clennam's　mind；　and　not　for　the
first　time　by　many；　could　Flintwinch　for　a　purpose　of　his　own　have　got
rid　of　Blandois？　Could　it　have　been　his　secret；　and　his　safety；　that
were　at　issue？　He　was　small　and　bent；　and　perhaps　not　actively　strong；
yet　he　was　as　tough　as　an　old　yew…tree；　and　as　crusty　as　an　old　jackdaw。
Such　a　man；　ing　behind　a　much　younger　and　more　vigorous　man；　and
having　the　will　to　put　an　end　to　him　and　no　relenting；　might　do　it
pretty　surely　in　that　solitary　place　at　a　late　hour。

While；　in　the　morbid　condition　of　his　thoughts；　these　thoughts　drifted
over　the　main　one　that　was　always　in　Clennam's　mind；　Mr　Flintwinch；
regarding　the　opposite　house　over　the　gateway　with　his　neck　twisted　and
one　eye　shut　up；　stood　smoking　with　a　vicious　expression　upon　him；　more
as　if　he　were　trying　to　bite　off　the　stem　of　his　pipe；　than　as　if　he
were　enjoying　it。　Yet　he　was　enjoying　it　in　his　own　way。

'You'll　be　able　to　take　my　likeness；　the　next　time　you　call；　Arthur；
I　should　think；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch；　drily；　as　he　stooped　to　knock　the
ashes　out。

Rather　conscious　and　confused；　Arthur　asked　his　pardon；　if　he　had　stared
at　him　unpolitely。　'But　my　mind　runs　so　much　upon　this　matter；'　he　said；
'that　I　lose　myself。'

'Hah！　Yet　I　don't　see；'　returned　Mr　Flintwinch；　quite　at　his　leisure；
'why　it　should　trouble　YOU；　Arthur。'

'No？'

'No；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch；　very　shortly　and　decidedly：　much　as　if　he　were
of　the　canine　race；　and　snapped　at　Arthur's　hand。

'Is　it　nothing　to　see　those　placards　about？　Is　it　nothing　to　me　to
see　my　mother's　name　and　residence　hawked　up　and　down　in　such　an
association？'

'I　don't　see；'　returned　Mr　Flintwinch；　scraping　his　horny　cheek；　'that
it　need　signify　much　to　you。　But　I'll　tell　you　what　I　do　see；　Arthur；'
glancing　up　at　the　windows；　'I　see　the　light　of　fire　and　candle　in　your
mother's　room！'

'And　what　has　that　to　do　with　it？'

'Why；　sir；　I　read　by　it；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch；　screwing　himself　at　him；
'that　if　it's　advisable　（as　the　proverb　says　it　is）　to　let　sleeping　dogs
lie；　it's　just　as　advisable；　perhaps；　to　let　missing　dogs　lie。　Let　'em
be。　They　generally　turn　up　soon　enough。'

Mr　Flintwinch　turned　short　round　when　he　had　made　this　remark；　and　went
into　the　dark　hall。　Clennam　stood　there；　following　him　with　his　eyes；
as　he　dipped　for　a　light　in　the　phosphorus…box　in　the　little　room　at　the
side；　got　one　after　three　or　four　dips；　and　lighted　the　dim　lamp　against
the　wall。　All　the　while；　Clennam　was　pursuing　the　probabilities……rather
as　if　they　were　being　shown　to　him　by　an　invisible　hand　than　as　if　he
himself　were　conjuring　them　up……of　Mr　Flintwinch's　ways　and　means　of
doing　that　darker　deed；　and　removing　its　traces　by　any　of　the　black
avenues　of　shadow　that　lay　around　them。

'Now；　sir；'　said　the　testy　Jeremiah；　'will　it　be　agreeable　to　walk
up…stairs？'

'My　mother　is　alone；　I　suppose？'

'Not　alone；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch。　'Mr　Casby　and　his　daughter　are　with
her。　They　came　in　while　I　was　smoking；　and　I　stayed　behind　to　have　my
smoke　out。'

This　was　the　second　disappointment。　Arthur　made　no　remark　upon　it；　and
repaired　to　his　mother's　room；　where　Mr　Casby　and　Flora　had　been
taking　tea；　anchovy　paste；　and　hot　buttered　toast。　The　relics　of　those
delicacies　were　not　yet　removed；　either　from　the　table　or　from　the
scorched　countenance　of　Affery；　who；　with　the　kitchen　toasting…fork
still　in　her　hand；　looked　like　a　sort　of　allegorical　personage；　except
that　she　had　a　considerable　advantage　over　the　general　run　of　such
personages　in　point　of　significant　emblematical　purpose。

Flora　had　spread　her　bon　and　shawl　upon　the　bed；　with　a　care
indicative　of　an　intention　to　stay　some　time。　Mr　Casby；　too；　was　beaming
near　the　hob；　with　his　benevolent　knobs　shining　as　if　the　warm　butter　of
the　toast　were　exuding　through　the　patriarchal　skull；　and　with　his　face
as　ruddy　as　if　the　colouring　matter　of　the　anchovy　paste　were　mantling
in　the　patriarchal　visage。　Seeing　this；　as　he　exchanged　the
usual　salutations；　Clennam　decided　to　speak　to　his　mother　without
postponement。

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　sur