Крошка Доррит

Chapter 9. Little Mother

           

           Sheforgottobeshyatthemoment,inhonestlywarninghimawayfromthesunkenwreckhehadadreamofraising;andlookedathimwitheyeswhichassuredly,inassociationwithherpatientface,herfragilefigure,hersparedress,andthewindandrain,didnotturnhimfromhispurposeofhelpingher.

           ‘Evenifitcouldbedone,’saidshe—‘anditnevercanbedonenow—wherecouldfatherlive,orhowcouldhelive?Ihaveoftenthoughtthatifsuchachangecouldcome,itmightbeanythingbutaservicetohimnow.Peoplemightnotthinksowellofhimoutsideastheydothere.Hemightnotbesogentlydealtwithoutsideasheisthere.Hemightnotbesofithimselfforthelifeoutsideasheisforthat.’

           Hereforthefirsttimeshecouldnotrestrainhertearsfromfalling;andthelittlethinhandshehadwatchedwhentheyweresobusy,trembledastheyclaspedeachother.

           ‘ItwouldbeanewdistresstohimeventoknowthatIearnalittlemoney,andthatFannyearnsalittlemoney.Heissoanxiousaboutus,yousee,feelinghelplesslyshutupthere.Suchagood,goodfather!’

           Heletthelittleburstoffeelinggobybeforehespoke.Itwassoongone.Shewasnotaccustomedtothinkofherself,ortotroubleanyonewithheremotions.Hehadbutglancedawayatthepilesofcityroofsandchimneysamongwhichthesmokewasrollingheavily,andatthewildernessofmastsontheriver,andthewildernessofsteeplesontheshore,indistinctlymixedtogetherinthestormyhaze,whenshewasagainasquietasifshehadbeenplyingherneedleinhismother’sroom.

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