Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 8. The Lock

           Ihaveseenatmymother’s—MrsClennaminthecity—ayoungwomanworkingatherneedle,whomIhaveonlyheardaddressedorspokenofasLittleDorrit.Ihavefeltsincerelyinterestedinher,andhavehadagreatdesiretoknowsomethingmoreabouther.Isawher,notaminutebeforeyoucameup,passinatthatdoor.’

           Theoldmanlookedathimattentively.‘Areyouasailor,sir?’heasked.Heseemedalittledisappointedbytheshakeoftheheadthatrepliedtohim.‘Notasailor?Ijudgedfromyoursunburntfacethatyoumightbe.Areyouinearnest,sir?’

           ‘IdoassureyouthatIam,anddoentreatyoutobelievethatIam,inplainearnest.’

           ‘Iknowverylittleoftheworld,sir,’returnedtheother,whohadaweakandquaveringvoice.‘Iammerelypassingon,liketheshadowoverthesun-dial.Itwouldbeworthnoman’swhiletomisleadme;itwouldreallybetooeasy—toopoorasuccess,toyieldanysatisfaction.Theyoungwomanwhomyousawgoinhereismybrother’schild.MybrotherisWilliamDorrit;IamFrederick.Yousayyouhaveseenheratyourmother’s(Iknowyourmotherbefriendsher),youhavefeltaninterestinher,andyouwishtoknowwhatshedoeshere.Comeandsee.’

           Hewentonagain,andArthuraccompaniedhim.

           ‘Mybrother,’saidtheoldman,pausingonthestepandslowlyfacingroundagain,‘hasbeenheremanyyears;andmuchthathappensevenamongourselves,outofdoors,iskeptfromhimforreasonsthatIneedn’tenteruponnow.Besogoodastosaynothingofmyniece’sworkingatherneedle.

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