Little Dorrit - Page 398/462

But there were circumstances attending

my--ha--slight knowledge of Mr Clennam (it was very slight), which,'

here Mr Dorrit became extremely grave and impressive, 'would render it

highly indelicate in Mr Clennam to--ha--to seek to renew communication

with me or with any member of my family under existing circumstances.

If Mr Clennam has sufficient delicacy to perceive the impropriety of

any such attempt, I am bound as a responsible gentleman to--ha--defer

to that delicacy on his part. If, on the other hand, Mr Clennam has not

that delicacy, I cannot for a moment--ha--hold any correspondence with

so--hum--coarse a mind. In either case, it would appear that Mr Clennam

is put altogether out of the question, and that we have nothing to do

with him or he with us. Ha--Mrs General!'

The entrance of the lady whom he announced, to take her place at the

breakfast-table, terminated the discussion. Shortly afterwards, the

courier announced that the valet, and the footman, and the two maids,

and the four guides, and the fourteen mules, were in readiness; so the

breakfast party went out to the convent door to join the cavalcade.

Mr Gowan stood aloof with his cigar and pencil, but Mr Blandois was on

the spot to pay his respects to the ladies. When he gallantly pulled

off his slouched hat to Little Dorrit, she thought he had even a more

sinister look, standing swart and cloaked in the snow, than he had

in the fire-light over-night. But, as both her father and her sister

received his homage with some favour, she refrained from expressing any

distrust of him, lest it should prove to be a new blemish derived from

her prison birth.

Nevertheless, as they wound down the rugged way while the convent was

yet in sight, she more than once looked round, and descried Mr Blandois,

backed by the convent smoke which rose straight and high from the

chimneys in a golden film, always standing on one jutting point looking

down after them. Long after he was a mere black stick in the snow, she

felt as though she could yet see that smile of his, that high nose, and

those eyes that were too near it. And even after that, when the convent

was gone and some light morning clouds veiled the pass below it, the

ghastly skeleton arms by the wayside seemed to be all pointing up at

him.

More treacherous than snow, perhaps, colder at heart, and harder to

melt, Blandois of Paris by degrees passed out of her mind, as they came

down into the softer regions. Again the sun was warm, again the streams

descending from glaciers and snowy caverns were refreshing to drink at,

again they came among the pine-trees, the rocky rivulets, the verdant

heights and dales, the wooden chalets and rough zigzag fences of Swiss

country. Sometimes the way so widened that she and her father could

ride abreast. And then to look at him, handsomely clothed in his fur and

broadcloths, rich, free, numerously served and attended, his eyes roving

far away among the glories of the landscape, no miserable screen before

them to darken his sight and cast its shadow on him, was enough.