Little Dorrit - Page 166/462

He had crossed the heath and was leaving it behind when he gained upon a

figure which had been in advance of him for some time, and which, as

he gained upon it, he thought he knew. He derived this impression

from something in the turn of the head, and in the figure's action of

consideration, as it went on at a sufficiently sturdy walk. But when

the man--for it was a man's figure--pushed his hat up at the back of his

head, and stopped to consider some object before him, he knew it to be

Daniel Doyce. 'How do you do, Mr Doyce?' said Clennam, overtaking him. 'I am glad to

see you again, and in a healthier place than the Circumlocution Office.'

'Ha! Mr Meagles's friend!' exclaimed that public criminal, coming out of

some mental combinations he had been making, and offering his hand. 'I

am glad to see you, sir.

Will you excuse me if I forget your name?' 'Readily. It's not a celebrated name. It's not Barnacle.' 'No, no,' said

Daniel, laughing. 'And now I know what it is. It's Clennam. How do you

do, Mr Clennam?' 'I have some hope,' said Arthur, as they walked on together, 'that we

may be going to the same place, Mr Doyce.'

'Meaning Twickenham?' returned Daniel. 'I am glad to hear it.'

They were soon quite intimate, and lightened the way with a variety of

conversation. The ingenious culprit was a man of great modesty and good

sense; and, though a plain man, had been too much accustomed to combine

what was original and daring in conception with what was patient and

minute in execution, to be by any means an ordinary man. It was at first

difficult to lead him to speak about himself, and he put off Arthur's

advances in that direction by admitting slightly, oh yes, he had done

this, and he had done that, and such a thing was of his making, and

such another thing was his discovery, but it was his trade, you see, his

trade; until, as he gradually became assured that his companion had a

real interest in his account of himself, he frankly yielded to it. Then

it appeared that he was the son of a north-country blacksmith, and had

originally been apprenticed by his widowed mother to a lock-maker; that

he had 'struck out a few little things' at the lock-maker's, which had

led to his being released from his indentures with a present, which

present had enabled him to gratify his ardent wish to bind himself to

a working engineer, under whom he had laboured hard, learned hard, and

lived hard, seven years.