As the city clocks struck nine on Monday morning, Mrs Clennam was

wheeled by Jeremiah Flintwinch of the cut-down aspect to her tall

cabinet. When she had unlocked and opened it, and had settled herself

at its desk, Jeremiah withdrew--as it might be, to hang himself more

effectually--and her son appeared. 'Are you any better this morning, mother?'

She shook her head, with the same austere air of luxuriousness that she

had shown over-night when speaking of the weather.

'I shall never be better any more. It is well for me, Arthur, that I

know it and can bear it.'

Sitting with her hands laid separately upon the desk, and the tall

cabinet towering before her, she looked as if she were performing on a

dumb church organ. Her son thought so (it was an old thought with him),

while he took his seat beside it.

She opened a drawer or two, looked over some business papers, and put

them back again. Her severe face had no thread of relaxation in it, by

which any explorer could have been guided to the gloomy labyrinth of her

thoughts. 'Shall I speak of our affairs, mother? Are you inclined to enter upon

business?' 'Am I inclined, Arthur? Rather, are you? Your father has been dead a

year and more. I have been at your disposal, and waiting your pleasure,

ever since.'

'There was much to arrange before I could leave; and when I did leave, I

travelled a little for rest and relief.'

She turned her face towards him, as not having heard or understood his

last words. 'For rest and relief.'

She glanced round the sombre room, and appeared from the motion of her

lips to repeat the words to herself, as calling it to witness how little

of either it afforded her.

'Besides, mother, you being sole executrix, and having the direction and

management of the estate, there remained little business, or I might say

none, that I could transact, until you had had time to arrange matters

to your satisfaction.'

'The accounts are made out,' she returned. 'I have them here. The

vouchers have all been examined and passed. You can inspect them when

you like, Arthur; now, if you please.'

'It is quite enough, mother, to know that the business is completed.

Shall I proceed then?' 'Why not?' she said, in her frozen way.

'Mother, our House has done less and less for some years past, and our

dealings have been progressively on the decline. We have never shown

much confidence, or invited much; we have attached no people to us; the

track we have kept is not the track of the time; and we have been

left far behind. I need not dwell on this to you, mother. You know it

necessarily.'




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