little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第21章

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placently　answer。

'But　look　here；'　quoth　the　turnkey。　'Supposing　she　had；　say　a　brother；
say　a　father；　say　a　husband；　who　would　be　likely　to　make　a　grab　at　that
property　when　she　came　into　it……how　about　that？'

'It　would　be　settled　on　herself；　and　they　would　have　no　more　legal　claim
on　it　than　you；'　would　be　the　professional　answer。

'Stop　a　bit；'　said　the　turnkey。　'Supposing　she　was　tender…hearted；　and
they　came　over　her。　Where's　your　law　for　tying　it　up　then？'

The　deepest　character　whom　the　turnkey　sounded；　was　unable　to　produce
his　law　for　tying　such　a　knot　as　that。　So；　the　turnkey　thought　about　it
all　his　life；　and　died　intestate　after　all。

But　that　was　long　afterwards；　when　his　god…daughter　was　past　sixteen。
The　first　half　of　that　space　of　her　life　was　only　just　acplished；
when　her　pitiful　and　plaintive　look　saw　her　father　a　widower。　From　that
time　the　protection　that　her　wondering　eyes　had　expressed　towards　him；
became　embodied　in　action；　and　the　Child　of　the　Marshalsea　took　upon
herself　a　new　relation　towards　the　Father。

At　first；　such　a　baby　could　do　little　more　than　sit　with　him；　deserting
her　livelier　place　by　the　high　fender；　and　quietly　watching　him。　But
this　made　her　so　far　necessary　to　him　that　he　became　accustomed　to　her；
and　began　to　be　sensible　of　missing　her　when　she　was　not　there。　Through
this　little　gate；　she　passed　out　of　childhood　into　the　care…laden　world。

What　her　pitiful　look　saw；　at　that　early　time；　in　her　father；　in　her
sister；　in　her　brother；　in　the　jail；　how　much；　or　how　little　of　the
wretched　truth　it　pleased　God　to　make　visible　to　her；　lies　hidden　with
many　mysteries。　It　is　enough　that　she　was　inspired　to　be　something　which
was　not　what　the　rest　were；　and　to　be　that　something；　different　and
laborious；　for　the　sake　of　the　rest。　Inspired？　Yes。　Shall　we　speak　of
the　inspiration　of　a　poet　or　a　priest；　and　not　of　the　heart　impelled　by
love　and　self…devotion　to　the　lowliest　work　in　the　lowliest　way　of　life！

With　no　earthly　friend　to　help　her；　or　so　much　as　to　see　her；　but　the
one　so　strangely　assorted；　with　no　knowledge　even　of　the　mon　daily
tone　and　habits　of　the　mon　members　of　the　free　munity　who　are　not
shut　up　in　prisons；　born　and　bred　in　a　social　condition；　false　even　with
a　reference　to　the　falsest　condition　outside　the　walls；　drinking　from
infancy　of　a　well　whose　waters　had　their　own　peculiar　stain；　their　own
unwholesome　and　unnatural　taste；　the　Child　of　the　Marshalsea　began　her
womanly　life。

No　matter　through　what　mistakes　and　discouragements；　what　ridicule　（not
unkindly　meant；　but　deeply　felt）　of　her　youth　and　little　figure；　what
humble　consciousness　of　her　own　babyhood　and　want　of　strength；　even
in　the　matter　of　lifting　and　carrying；　through　how　much　weariness
and　hopelessness；　and　how　many　secret　tears；　she　drudged　on；　until
recognised　as　useful；　even　indispensable。　That　time　came。　She　took　the
place　of　eldest　of　the　three；　in　all　things　but　precedence；　was　the
head　of　the　fallen　family；　and　bore；　in　her　own　heart；　its　anxieties　and
shames。

At　thirteen；　she　could　read　and　keep　accounts；　that　is；　could　put　down
in　words　and　figures　how　much　the　bare　necessaries　that　they　wanted
would　cost；　and　how　much　less　they　had　to　buy　them　with。　She　had　been；
by　snatches　of　a　few　weeks　at　a　time；　to　an　evening　school　outside；
and　got　her　sister　and　brother　sent　to　day…schools　by　desultory　starts；
during　three　or　four　years。　There　was　no　instruction　for　any　of　them　at
home；　but　she　knew　well……no　one　better……that　a　man　so　broken　as　to　be
the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　could　be　no　father　to　his　own　children。

To　these　scanty　means　of　improvement；　she　added　another　of　her　own
contriving。　Once；　among　the　heterogeneous　crowd　of　inmates　there
appeared　a　dancing…master。　Her　sister　had　a　great　desire　to　learn　the
dancing…master's　art；　and　seemed　to　have　a　taste　that　way。　At　thirteen
years　old；　the　Child　of　the　Marshalsea　presented　herself　to　the
dancing…master；　with　a　little　bag　in　her　hand；　and　preferred　her　humble
petition。

'If　you　please；　I　was　born　here；　sir。'

'Oh！　You　are　the　young　lady；　are　you？'　said　the　dancing…master；
surveying　the　small　figure　and　uplifted　face。

'Yes；　sir。'

'And　what　can　I　do　for　you？'　said　the　dancing…master。

'Nothing　for　me；　sir；　thank　you；'　anxiously　undrawing　the　strings　of
the　little　bag；　'but　if；　while　you　stay　here；　you　could　be　so　kind　as　to
teach　my　sister　cheap……'

'My　child；　I'll　teach　her　for　nothing；'　said　the　dancing…master；
shutting　up　the　bag。　He　was　as　good…natured　a　dancing…master　as　ever
danced　to　the　Insolvent　Court；　and　he　kept　his　word。　The　sister　was　so
apt　a　pupil；　and　the　dancing…master　had　such　abundant　leisure　to　bestow
upon　her　（for　it　took　him　a　matter　of　ten　weeks　to　set　to　his　creditors；
lead　off；　turn　the　missioners；　and　right　and　left　back　to　his
professional　pursuits）；　that　wonderful　progress　was　made。　Indeed　the
dancing…master　was　so　proud　of　it；　and　so　wishful　to　display　it　before
he　left　to　a　few　select　friends　among　the　collegians；　that　at　six
o'clock　on　a　certain　fine　morning；　a　minuet　de　la　cour　came　off　in
the　yard……the　college…rooms　being　of　too　confined　proportions　for　the
purpose……in　which　so　much　ground　was　covered；　and　the　steps　were　so
conscientiously　executed；　that　the　dancing…master；　having　to　play　the
kit　besides；　was　thoroughly　blown。

The　success　of　this　beginning；　which　led　to　the　dancing…master's
continuing　his　instruction　after　his　release；　emboldened　the　poor　child
to　try　again。　She　watched　and　waited　months　for　a　seamstress。　In　the
fulness　of　time　a　milliner　came　in；　and　to　her　she　repaired　on　her　own
behalf。

'I　beg　your　pardon；　ma'am；'　she　said；　looking　timidly　round　the　door　of
the　milliner；　whom　she　found　in　tears　and　in　bed：　'but　I　was　born　here。'

Everybody　seemed　to　hear　of　her　as　soon　as　they　arrived；　for　the
milliner　sat　up　in　bed；　drying　her　eyes；　and　said；　just　as　the
dancing…master　had　said：

'Oh！　You　are　the　child；　are　you？'

'Yes；　ma'am。'

'I　am　sorry　I　haven't　got　anything　for　you；'　said　the　milliner；　shaking
her　head。

'It's　not　that；　ma'am。　If　you　please　I　want　to　learn　needle…work。'

'Why　should　you　do　that；'　returned　the　milliner；　'with　me　before　you？　It
has　not　done　me　much　good。'

'Nothing……whatever　it　is……seems　to　have　done　anybody　much　good　who　es
here；'　she　returned　in　all　simplicity；　'but　I　want　to　learn　just　the
same。'

'I　am　afraid　you　are　so　weak；　you　see；'　the　milliner　objected。

'I　don't　think　I　am　weak；　ma'am。'

'And　you　are　so　very；　very　little；　you　see；'　the　milliner　objected。

'Yes；　I　am　afraid　I　am　very　little　indeed；'　returned　the　Child　of　the
Marshalsea；　and　so　began　to　sob　over　that　unfortunate　defect　of　hers；
which　came　so　often　in　her　way。　The　milliner……who　was　not　morose　or
hard…hearted；　only　newly　insolvent……was　touched；　took　her　in　hand　with
goodwill；　found　her　the　most　patient　and　earnest　of　pupils；　and　made　her
a　cunning　work…woman　in　course　of　time。

In　course　of　time；　and　in　the　very　self…same　course　of　time；　the　Father
of　the　Marshalsea　gradually　developed　a　new　flower　of　character。　The
more　Fatherly　he　grew　as　to　the　Marshalsea；　and　the　more　dependent　he
became　on　the　contributions　of　his　changing　family；　the　greater　stand
he　made　by　his　forlorn　gentility。　With　the　same　hand　that　he　pocketed
a　collegian's　half…crown　half　an　hour　ago；　he　would　wipe　away　the
tears　that　streamed　over　his　cheeks　if　any　reference　were　made　to　his
daughters'　earning　their　bread。　So；　over　and　above　other　daily　cares；
the　Child　of　the　Marshalsea　had　always　upon　her　the　care　of　preserving
the　genteel　fiction　that　they　were　all　idle　beggars　together。

The　sister　became　a　dancer。　There　was　a　ruined　uncle　in　the　family
group……ruined　by　his　brother；　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea；　and　knowing
no　more　how　than　his　ruiner　did；　but　accepting　the　fact　as　an　inevitable
certainty……on　whom　her　protection　devolved。　Naturally　a　retired　and
simple　man；　he　had　shown　no　particular　sense　of　being　ruined　at　the　time
when　that　calamity　fell　upon　him；　further　than　that　he　left　off　washing
himself　when　the　shock　was　announced；　and　never　took　to　that　luxury　any
more。　H