Крошка Доррит

Chapter 5. Something Wrong Somewhere

           Ihopeyouwillnotthinkofmewithdispleasurenow.Iamgoingtotry,morethanever,toadaptmyselfasyouwishtowhatsurroundsme—forindeedIhavetriedallalong,thoughIhavefailed,Iknow.’

           ‘Amy,’hereturned,turningshortuponher.‘You—ha—habituallyhurtme.’

           ‘Hurtyou,father!I!’

           ‘Thereisa—hum—atopic,’saidMrDorrit,lookingallabouttheceilingoftheroom,andneverattheattentive,uncomplaininglyshockedface,‘apainfultopic,aseriesofeventswhichIwish—ha—altogethertoobliterate.Thisisunderstoodbyyoursister,whohasalreadyremonstratedwithyouinmypresence;itisunderstoodbyyourbrother;itisunderstoodby—hahum—byeveryoneofdelicacyandsensitivenessexceptyourself—ha—Iamsorrytosay,exceptyourself.You,Amy—hum—youaloneandonlyyou—constantlyrevivethetopic,thoughnotinwords.’

           Shelaidherhandonhisarm.Shedidnothingmore.Shegentlytouchedhim.Thetremblinghandmayhavesaid,withsomeexpression,‘Thinkofme,thinkhowIhaveworked,thinkofmymanycares!’Butshesaidnotasyllableherself.

           Therewasareproachinthetouchsoaddressedtohimthatshehadnotforeseen,orshewouldhavewithheldherhand.Hebegantojustifyhimselfinaheated,stumbling,angrymanner,whichmadenothingofit.

           ‘Iwasthereallthoseyears.Iwas—ha—universallyacknowledgedastheheadoftheplace.I—hum—Icausedyoutoberespectedthere,Amy.I—hahum—Igavemyfamilyapositionthere.Ideserveareturn.Iclaimareturn.Isay,sweepitoffthefaceoftheearthandbeginafresh.

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