'Picked the people up,' said Mrs Gowan, tapping the sticks of her closed
fan (a large green one, which she used as a hand-screen) on her little
table. 'Came upon them. Found them out. Stumbled UP against them.'
'The people?' 'Yes. The Miggles people.'
'I really cannot say,' said Clennam, 'where my friend Mr Meagles first
presented Mr Henry Gowan to his daughter.'
'I am pretty sure he picked her up at Rome; but never mind
where--somewhere. Now (this is entirely between ourselves), is she very
plebeian?' 'Really, ma'am,' returned Clennam, 'I am so undoubtedly plebeian myself,
that I do not feel qualified to judge.'
'Very neat!' said Mrs Gowan, coolly unfurling her screen. 'Very happy!
From which I infer that you secretly think her manner equal to her
looks?' Clennam, after a moment's stiffness, bowed.
'That's comforting, and I hope you may be right. Did Henry tell me you
had travelled with them?' 'I travelled with my friend Mr Meagles, and
his wife and daughter, during some months.' (Nobody's heart might have
been wrung by the remembrance.)
'Really comforting, because you must have had a large experience of
them. You see, Mr Clennam, this thing has been going on for a long time,
and I find no improvement in it. Therefore to have the opportunity of
speaking to one so well informed about it as yourself, is an immense
relief to me. Quite a boon. Quite a blessing, I am sure.'
'Pardon me,' returned Clennam, 'but I am not in Mr Henry Gowan's
confidence. I am far from being so well informed as you suppose me to
be. Your mistake makes my position a very delicate one. No word on this
topic has ever passed between Mr Henry Gowan and myself.'
Mrs Gowan glanced at the other end of the room, where her son was
playing ecarte on a sofa, with the old lady who was for a charge of
cavalry. 'Not in his confidence? No,' said Mrs Gowan. 'No word has passed between
you? No. That I can imagine. But there are unexpressed confidences, Mr
Clennam; and as you have been together intimately among these people, I
cannot doubt that a confidence of that sort exists in the present case.
Perhaps you have heard that I have suffered the keenest distress of
mind from Henry's having taken to a pursuit which--well!' shrugging her
shoulders, 'a very respectable pursuit, I dare say, and some artists
are, as artists, quite superior persons; still, we never yet in our
family have gone beyond an Amateur, and it is a pardonable weakness to
feel a little--'