It is not that I have seen my good Amy attentive, and--ha--condescending

to my old pensioner--it is not that that hurts me. It is, if I am to

close the painful subject by being explicit, that I have seen my child,

my own child, my own daughter, coming into this College out of the

public streets--smiling! smiling!--arm in arm with--O my God, a livery!'

This reference to the coat of no cut and no time, the unfortunate

gentleman gasped forth, in a scarcely audible voice, and with his

clenched pocket-handkerchief raised in the air. His excited feelings

might have found some further painful utterance, but for a knock at the

door, which had been already twice repeated, and to which Fanny (still

wishing herself dead, and indeed now going so far as to add, buried)

cried 'Come in!'

'Ah, Young John!' said the Father, in an altered and calmed voice. 'What

is it, Young John?' 'A letter for you, sir, being left in the Lodge just this minute, and a

message with it, I thought, happening to be there myself, sir, I would

bring it to your room.' The speaker's attention was much distracted by

the piteous spectacle of Little Dorrit at her father's feet, with her

head turned away. 'Indeed, John? Thank you.'

'The letter is from Mr Clennam, sir--it's the answer--and the message

was, sir, that Mr Clennam also sent his compliments, and word that he

would do himself the pleasure of calling this afternoon, hoping to see

you, and likewise,' attention more distracted than before, 'Miss Amy.'

'Oh!' As the Father glanced into the letter (there was a bank-note in

it), he reddened a little, and patted Amy on the head afresh. 'Thank

you, Young John. Quite right. Much obliged to you for your attention. No

one waiting?' 'No, sir, no one waiting.'

'Thank you, John. How is your mother, Young John?'

'Thank you, sir, she's not quite as well as we could wish--in fact, we

none of us are, except father--but she's pretty well, sir.' 'Say we sent

our remembrances, will you? Say kind remembrances, if you please, Young

John.' 'Thank you, sir, I will.' And Mr Chivery junior went his way, having

spontaneously composed on the spot an entirely new epitaph for himself,

to the effect that Here lay the body of John Chivery, Who, Having

at such a date, Beheld the idol of his life, In grief and tears, And

feeling unable to bear the harrowing spectacle, Immediately repaired to

the abode of his inconsolable parents, And terminated his existence by

his own rash act.




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