Little Dorrit - Page 368/462

But if it must be done as it is, it--ha--it must be done. Fasten the

collar of my shirt, my dear. Mr Clennam, would you oblige me--hum--with

a blue neckcloth you will find in that drawer at your elbow. Button

my coat across at the chest, my love. It looks--ha--it looks broader,

buttoned.' With his trembling hand he pushed his grey hair up, and then, taking

Clennam and his daughter for supporters, appeared at the window leaning

on an arm of each. The Collegians cheered him very heartily, and he

kissed his hand to them with great urbanity and protection. When he

withdrew into the room again, he said 'Poor creatures!' in a tone of

much pity for their miserable condition.

Little Dorrit was deeply anxious that he should lie down to compose

himself. On Arthur's speaking to her of his going to inform Pancks that

he might now appear as soon as he would, and pursue the joyful business

to its close, she entreated him in a whisper to stay with her until her

father should be quite calm and at rest. He needed no second entreaty;

and she prepared her father's bed, and begged him to lie down. For

another half-hour or more he would be persuaded to do nothing but

go about the room, discussing with himself the probabilities for and

against the Marshal's allowing the whole of the prisoners to go to the

windows of the official residence which commanded the street, to see

himself and family depart for ever in a carriage--which, he said, he

thought would be a Sight for them. But gradually he began to droop and

tire, and at last stretched himself upon the bed.

She took her faithful place beside him, fanning him and cooling his

forehead; and he seemed to be falling asleep (always with the money in

his hand), when he unexpectedly sat up and said:

'Mr Clennam, I beg your pardon. Am I to understand, my dear sir, that I

could--ha--could pass through the Lodge at this moment, and--hum--take a

walk?' 'I think not, Mr Dorrit,' was the unwilling reply. 'There are certain

forms to be completed; and although your detention here is now in itself

a form, I fear it is one that for a little longer has to be observed

too.' At this he shed tears again. 'It is but a few hours, sir,'

Clennam cheerfully urged upon him.

'A few hours, sir,' he returned in a sudden passion. 'You talk very

easily of hours, sir! How long do you suppose, sir, that an hour is to a

man who is choking for want of air?'