'I must accompany you there,' said Clennam, 'I cannot let you go alone.' 'Yes, pray leave us to go there by ourselves. Pray do!' begged Little
Dorrit. She was so earnest in the petition, that Clennam felt a delicacy in
obtruding himself upon her: the rather, because he could well understand
that Maggy's lodging was of the obscurest sort. 'Come, Maggy,' said
Little Dorrit cheerily, 'we shall do very well; we know the way by this
time, Maggy?' 'Yes, yes, little mother; we know the way,' chuckled Maggy. And away
they went. Little Dorrit turned at the door to say, 'God bless you!' She
said it very softly, but perhaps she may have been as audible above--who
knows!--as a whole cathedral choir.
Arthur Clennam suffered them to pass the corner of the street before he
followed at a distance; not with any idea of encroaching a second time
on Little Dorrit's privacy, but to satisfy his mind by seeing her secure
in the neighbourhood to which she was accustomed. So diminutive she
looked, so fragile and defenceless against the bleak damp weather,
flitting along in the shuffling shadow of her charge, that he felt, in
his compassion, and in his habit of considering her a child apart from
the rest of the rough world, as if he would have been glad to take her
up in his arms and carry her to her journey's end.
In course of time she came into the leading thoroughfare where the
Marshalsea was, and then he saw them slacken their pace, and soon turn
down a by-street. He stopped, felt that he had no right to go further,
and slowly left them. He had no suspicion that they ran any risk of
being houseless until morning; had no idea of the truth until long, long
afterwards. But, said Little Dorrit, when they stopped at a poor dwelling all in
darkness, and heard no sound on listening at the door, 'Now, this is a
good lodging for you, Maggy, and we must not give offence. Consequently,
we will only knock twice, and not very loud; and if we cannot wake them
so, we must walk about till day.'
Once, Little Dorrit knocked with a careful hand, and listened. Twice,
Little Dorrit knocked with a careful hand, and listened. All was close
and still. 'Maggy, we must do the best we can, my dear. We must be
patient, and wait for day.'
It was a chill dark night, with a damp wind blowing, when they came out
into the leading street again, and heard the clocks strike half-past
one. 'In only five hours and a half,' said Little Dorrit, 'we shall be
able to go home.' To speak of home, and to go and look at it, it being
so near, was a natural sequence. They went to the closed gate, and
peeped through into the court-yard. 'I hope he is sound asleep,' said
Little Dorrit, kissing one of the bars, 'and does not miss me.'