This magnificent accordance of Mr Dorrit's recognition settled the
matter. It was not observed that Uncle had pushed away his plate, and
forgotten his breakfast; but he was not much observed at any time,
except by Little Dorrit. The servants were recalled, and the meal
proceeded to its conclusion. Mrs General rose and left the table.
Little Dorrit rose and left the table. When Edward and Fanny remained
whispering together across it, and when Mr Dorrit remained eating figs
and reading a French newspaper, Uncle suddenly fixed the attention of
all three by rising out of his chair, striking his hand upon the table,
and saying, 'Brother! I protest against it!'
If he had made a proclamation in an unknown tongue, and given up the
ghost immediately afterwards, he could not have astounded his audience
more. The paper fell from Mr Dorrit's hand, and he sat petrified, with a
fig half way to his mouth. 'Brother!' said the old man, conveying a surprising energy into his
trembling voice, 'I protest against it! I love you; you know I love you
dearly. In these many years I have never been untrue to you in a single
thought. Weak as I am, I would at any time have struck any man who spoke
ill of you. But, brother, brother, brother, I protest against it!'
It was extraordinary to see of what a burst of earnestness such a
decrepit man was capable. His eyes became bright, his grey hair rose on
his head, markings of purpose on his brow and face which had faded from
them for five-and-twenty years, started out again, and there was an
energy in his hand that made its action nervous once more.
'My dear Frederick!' exclaimed Mr Dorrit faintly. 'What is wrong? What
is the matter?' 'How dare you,' said the old man, turning round on Fanny, 'how dare you
do it? Have you no memory? Have you no heart?'
'Uncle?' cried Fanny, affrighted and bursting into tears, 'why do you
attack me in this cruel manner? What have I done?'
'Done?' returned the old man, pointing to her sister's place, 'where's
your affectionate invaluable friend? Where's your devoted guardian?
Where's your more than mother? How dare you set up superiorities against
all these characters combined in your sister?
For shame, you false girl, for shame!' 'I love Amy,' cried Miss Fanny,
sobbing and weeping, 'as well as I love my life--better than I love my
life. I don't deserve to be so treated. I am as grateful to Amy, and as
fond of Amy, as it's possible for any human being to be. I wish I was
dead. I never was so wickedly wronged. And only because I am anxious for
the family credit.' 'To the winds with the family credit!' cried the old man, with great
scorn and indignation. 'Brother, I protest against pride. I protest
against ingratitude. I protest against any one of us here who have known
what we have known, and have seen what we have seen, setting up any
pretension that puts Amy at a moment's disadvantage, or to the cost of
a moment's pain. We may know that it's a base pretension by its having
that effect. It ought to bring a judgment on us. Brother, I protest
against it in the sight of God!'