Little Dorrit - Page 179/462

'Odd enough, Mr Clennam, that we should have met just now,' said

the man. Upon which the dog became mute. 'Allow me to introduce

myself--Henry Gowan. A pretty place this, and looks wonderfully well

this morning!' The manner was easy, and the voice agreeable; but still Clennam thought,

that if he had not made that decided resolution to avoid falling in love

with Pet, he would have taken a dislike to this Henry Gowan. 'It's new to you, I believe?' said this Gowan, when Arthur had extolled

the place. 'Quite new. I made acquaintance with it only yesterday

afternoon.' 'Ah! Of course this is not its best aspect. It used to look charming in

the spring, before they went away last time. I should like you to have

seen it then.' But for that resolution so often recalled, Clennam might have wished him

in the crater of Mount Etna, in return for this civility.

'I have had the pleasure of seeing it under many circumstances during

the last three years, and it's--a Paradise.'

It was (at least it might have been, always excepting for that wise

resolution) like his dexterous impudence to call it a Paradise. He only

called it a Paradise because he first saw her coming, and so made her

out within her hearing to be an angel, Confusion to him! And ah! how

beaming she looked, and how glad! How she caressed the dog, and how the

dog knew her! How expressive that heightened colour in her face, that

fluttered manner, her downcast eyes, her irresolute happiness! When had

Clennam seen her look like this? Not that there was any reason why he

might, could, would, or should have ever seen her look like this,

or that he had ever hoped for himself to see her look like this; but

still--when had he ever known her do it!

He stood at a little distance from them. This Gowan when he had talked

about a Paradise, had gone up to her and taken her hand. The dog had put

his great paws on her arm and laid his head against her dear bosom. She

had laughed and welcomed them, and made far too much of the dog, far,

far, too much--that is to say, supposing there had been any third person

looking on who loved her.

She disengaged herself now, and came to Clennam, and put her hand in his

and wished him good morning, and gracefully made as if she would take

his arm and be escorted into the house. To this Gowan had no objection.

No, he knew he was too safe.