Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 9. Little Mother

           

           Hemethereyesraisedtohiswithsomuchwonderinthem(shewasscaredwhentheencountertookplace,andshrunkawayagain),thathefeltitnecessarytosay:

           ‘Ihaveareasonforasking,whichIcannotverywellexplain;butyoumust,onnoaccount,supposeittobeofanaturetocauseyoutheleastalarmoranxiety.Quitethereverse.Andyouthinkthatatnotimeofyourfather’slifewasmynameofClennameverfamiliartohim?’

           ‘No,sir.’

           Hefelt,fromthetoneinwhichshespoke,thatshewasglancingupathimwiththosepartedlips;thereforehelookedbeforehim,ratherthanmakeherheartbeatquickerstillbyembarrassingherafresh.

           ThustheyemergedupontheIronBridge,whichwasasquietaftertheroaringstreetsasthoughithadbeenopencountry.Thewindblewroughly,thewetsquallscamerattlingpastthem,skimmingthepoolsontheroadandpavement,andrainingthemdownintotheriver.Thecloudsracedonfuriouslyinthelead-colouredsky,thesmokeandmistracedafterthem,thedarktideranfierceandstronginthesamedirection.LittleDorritseemedtheleast,thequietest,andweakestofHeaven’screatures.

           ‘Letmeputyouinacoach,’saidClennam,verynearlyadding‘mypoorchild.’

           Shehurriedlydeclined,sayingthatwetordrymadelittledifferencetoher;shewasusedtogoaboutinallweathers.Heknewittobeso,andwastouchedwithmorepity;thinkingoftheslightfigureathisside,makingitsnightlywaythroughthedampdarkboisterousstreetstosuchaplaceofrest.

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