Крошка Доррит

Chapter 32. More Fortune-Telling

           

           ‘ButitbringsmetosomethingthatIwishtosay,’hecontinued,‘andthereforeIwillnotquarrelevenwithmyownfacefortellingtalesandbeingunfaithfultome.Besides,itisaprivilegeandpleasuretoconfideinmyLittleDorrit.Letmeconfessthen,that,forgettinghowgraveIwas,andhowoldIwas,andhowthetimeforsuchthingshadgonebymewiththemanyyearsofsamenessandlittlehappinessthatmadeupmylonglifefaraway,withoutmarkingit—that,forgettingallthis,IfanciedIlovedsomeone.’

           ‘DoIknowher,sir?’askedLittleDorrit.

           ‘No,mychild.’

           ‘Nottheladywhohasbeenkindtomeforyoursake?’

           ‘Flora.No,no.Doyouthink—’

           ‘Ineverquitethoughtso,’saidLittleDorrit,moretoherselfthanhim.‘Ididwonderatitalittle.’

           ‘Well!’saidClennam,abidingbythefeelingthathadfallenonhimintheavenueonthenightoftheroses,thefeelingthathewasanolderman,whohaddonewiththattenderpartoflife,‘Ifoundoutmymistake,andIthoughtaboutitalittle—inshort,agooddeal—andgotwiser.Beingwiser,IcountedupmyyearsandconsideredwhatIam,andlookedback,andlookedforward,andfoundthatIshouldsoonbegrey.IfoundthatIhadclimbedthehill,andpassedthelevelgrounduponthetop,andwasdescendingquickly.’

           Ifhehadknownthesharpnessofthepainhecausedthepatientheart,inspeakingthus!Whiledoingit,too,withthepurposeofeasingandservingher.

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