'Then, Flora,' said Arthur, with a sudden interest in the conversation,
'Mr Casby was so kind as to mention Little Dorrit to you, was he? What
did he say?' 'Oh you know what papa is,' rejoined Flora, 'and how aggravatingly he
sits looking beautiful and turning his thumbs over and over one another
till he makes one giddy if one keeps one's eyes upon him, he said when
we were talking of you--I don't know who began the subject Arthur (Doyce
and Clennam) but I am sure it wasn't me, at least I hope not but you
really must excuse my confessing more on that point.'
'Certainly,' said Arthur. 'By all means.'
'You are very ready,' pouted Flora, coming to a sudden stop in a
captivating bashfulness, 'that I must admit, Papa said you had spoken of
her in an earnest way and I said what I have told you and that's all.'
'That's all?' said Arthur, a little disappointed.
'Except that when Pancks told us of your having embarked in this
business and with difficulty persuaded us that it was really you I said
to Mr F.'s Aunt then we would come and ask you if it would be agreeable
to all parties that she should be engaged at our house when required
for I know she often goes to your mama's and I know that your mama has
a very touchy temper Arthur--Doyce and Clennam--or I never might have
married Mr F. and might have been at this hour but I am running into
nonsense.' 'It was very kind of you, Flora, to think of this.'
Poor Flora rejoined with a plain sincerity which became her better than
her youngest glances, that she was glad he thought so. She said it with
so much heart that Clennam would have given a great deal to buy his
old character of her on the spot, and throw it and the mermaid away for
ever. 'I think, Flora,' he said, 'that the employment you can give Little
Dorrit, and the kindness you can show her--'
'Yes and I will,' said Flora, quickly.
'I am sure of it--will be a great assistance and support to her. I do
not feel that I have the right to tell you what I know of her, for I
acquired the knowledge confidentially, and under circumstances that
bind me to silence. But I have an interest in the little creature, and
a respect for her that I cannot express to you. Her life has been one
of such trial and devotion, and such quiet goodness, as you can scarcely
imagine. I can hardly think of her, far less speak of her, without
feeling moved. Let that feeling represent what I could tell you, and
commit her to your friendliness with my thanks.'