Arthur Clennam moved to attract his attention, and the grey eyebrows

turned towards him. 'I beg your pardon,' said Clennam, 'I fear you did not hear me

announced?' 'No, sir, I did not. Did you wish to see me, sir?'

'I wished to pay my respects.' Mr Casby seemed a feather's weight disappointed by the last words,

having perhaps prepared himself for the visitor's wishing to pay

something else. 'Have I the pleasure, sir,' he proceeded--'take a chair,

if you please--have I the pleasure of knowing--? Ah! truly, yes, I think

I have! I believe I am not mistaken in supposing that I am acquainted

with those features? I think I address a gentleman of whose return to

this country I was informed by Mr Flintwinch?' 'That is your present visitor.'

'Really! Mr Clennam?' 'No other, Mr Casby.' 'Mr Clennam, I am glad to see you. How have you been since we met?' Without thinking it worth while to explain that in the course of some

quarter of a century he had experienced occasional slight fluctuations

in his health and spirits, Clennam answered generally that he had never

been better, or something equally to the purpose; and shook hands with

the possessor of 'that head' as it shed its patriarchal light upon him.'We are older, Mr Clennam,' said Christopher Casby.

'We are--not younger,' said Clennam. After this wise remark he felt that

he was scarcely shining with brilliancy, and became aware that he was

nervous. 'And your respected father,' said Mr Casby, 'is no more! I was grieved

to hear it, Mr Clennam, I was grieved.' Arthur replied in the usual way that he felt infinitely obliged to him. 'There was a time,' said Mr Casby, 'when your parents and myself were

not on friendly terms. There was a little family misunderstanding among

us. Your respected mother was rather jealous of her son, maybe; when I

say her son, I mean your worthy self, your worthy self.'

His smooth face had a bloom upon it like ripe wall-fruit. What with

his blooming face, and that head, and his blue eyes, he seemed to be

delivering sentiments of rare wisdom and virtue. In like manner, his

physiognomical expression seemed to teem with benignity. Nobody could

have said where the wisdom was, or where the virtue was, or where the

benignity was; but they all seemed to be somewhere about him. 'Those

times, however,' pursued Mr Casby, 'are past and gone, past and gone.

I do myself the pleasure of making a visit to your respected mother

occasionally, and of admiring the fortitude and strength of mind with

which she bears her trials, bears her trials.' When he made one of these

little repetitions, sitting with his hands crossed before him, he did it

with his head on one side, and a gentle smile, as if he had something in

his thoughts too sweetly profound to be put into words. As if he denied

himself the pleasure of uttering it, lest he should soar too high; and

his meekness therefore preferred to be unmeaning.




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