She and his father had been at variance from his earliest remembrance.

To sit speechless himself in the midst of rigid silence, glancing in

dread from the one averted face to the other, had been the peacefullest

occupation of his childhood. She gave him one glassy kiss, and four

stiff fingers muffled in worsted. This embrace concluded, he sat down on

the opposite side of her little table. There was a fire in the grate,

as there had been night and day for fifteen years. There was a kettle on

the hob, as there had been night and day for fifteen years. There was a

little mound of damped ashes on the top of the fire, and another little

mound swept together under the grate, as there had been night and day

for fifteen years. There was a smell of black dye in the airless room,

which the fire had been drawing out of the crape and stuff of the

widow's dress for fifteen months, and out of the bier-like sofa for

fifteen years. 'Mother, this is a change from your old active habits.'

'The world has narrowed to these dimensions, Arthur,' she rep lied,

glancing round the room. 'It is well for me that I never set my heart

upon its hollow vanities.' The old influence of her presence and her stern strong voice, so

gathered about her son, that he felt conscious of a renewal of the timid

chill and reserve of his childhood. 'Do you never leave your room, mother?'

'What with my rheumatic affection, and what with its attendant debility

or nervous weakness--names are of no matter now--I have lost the use

of my limbs. I never leave my room. I have not been outside this door

for--tell him for how long,' she said, speaking over her shoulder.

'A dozen year next Christmas,' returned a cracked voice out of the

dimness behind. 'Is that Affery?' said Arthur, looking towards it.

The cracked voice replied that it was Affery: and an old woman came

forward into what doubtful light there was, and kissed her hand once;

then subsided again into the dimness. 'I am able,' said Mrs Clennam, with a slight motion of her

worsted-muffled right hand toward a chair on wheels, standing before a

tall writing cabinet close shut up, 'I am able to attend to my business

duties, and I am thankful for the privilege. It is a great privilege.

But no more of business on this day. It is a bad night, is it not?' 'Yes, mother.' 'Does it snow?' 'Snow, mother? And we only yet in September?'




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