Little Dorrit Charles Dickens (e reader for manga TXT) 📖

Mr. Sparkler would probably be the last person, in any assemblage of the human species, to receive an impression from anything that passed in his presence.

“And Edmund Sparkler will tell you, I dare say,” said Mrs. Merdle, waving her favourite hand towards her husband, “how he has heard it noticed.”

“I couldn’t,” said Mr. Sparkler, after feeling his pulse as before, “couldn’t undertake to say what led to it⁠—’cause memory desperate loose. But being in company with the brother of a doosed fine gal⁠—well educated too⁠—with no biggodd nonsense about her⁠—at the period alluded to⁠—”

“There! Never mind the sister,” remarked Mrs. Merdle, a little impatiently. “What did the brother say?”

“Didn’t say a word, ma’am,” answered Mr. Sparkler. “As silent a feller as myself. Equally hard up for a remark.”

“Somebody said something,” returned Mrs. Merdle. “Never mind who it was.”

(“Assure you I don’t in the least,” said Mr. Sparkler.)

“But tell us what it was.”

Mr. Sparkler referred to his pulse again, and put himself through some severe mental discipline before he replied:

“Fellers referring to my Governor⁠—expression not my own⁠—occasionally compliment my Governor in a very handsome way on being immensely rich and knowing⁠—perfect phenomenon of Buyer and Banker and that⁠—but say the Shop sits heavily on him. Say he carried the Shop about, on his back rather⁠—like Jew clothesmen with too much business.”

“Which,” said Mrs. Merdle, rising, with her floating drapery about her, “is exactly my complaint. Edmund, give me your arm upstairs.”

Mr. Merdle, left alone to meditate on a better conformation of himself to Society, looked out of nine windows in succession, and appeared to see nine wastes of space. When he had thus entertained himself he went downstairs, and looked intently at all the carpets on the ground-floor; and then came upstairs again, and looked intently at all the carpets on the first-floor; as if they were gloomy depths, in unison with his oppressed soul. Through all the rooms he wandered, as he always did, like the last person on earth who had any business to approach them. Let Mrs. Merdle announce, with all her might, that she was at Home ever so many nights in a season, she could not announce more widely and unmistakably than Mr. Merdle did that he was never at home.

At last he met the chief butler, the sight of which splendid retainer always finished him. Extinguished by this great creature, he sneaked to his dressing-room, and there remained shut up until he rode out to dinner, with Mrs. Merdle, in her own handsome chariot. At dinner, he was envied and flattered as a being of might, was Treasuried, Barred, and Bishoped, as much as he would; and an hour after midnight came home alone, and being instantly put out again in his own hall, like a rushlight, by the chief butler, went sighing to bed.

XXXIV A Shoal of Barnacles

Mr. Henry Gowan and the dog were established frequenters of the cottage, and the day was fixed for the wedding. There was to be a convocation of Barnacles on the occasion, in order that that very high and very large family might shed as much lustre on the marriage as so dim an event was capable of receiving.

To have got the whole Barnacle family together would have been impossible for two reasons. Firstly, because no building could have held all the members and connections of that illustrious house. Secondly, because wherever there was a square yard of ground in British occupation under the sun or moon, with a public post upon it, sticking to that post was a Barnacle. No intrepid navigator could plant a flagstaff upon any spot of earth, and take possession of it in the British name, but to that spot of earth, so soon as the discovery was known, the Circumlocution Office sent out a Barnacle and a despatch-box. Thus the Barnacles were all over the world, in every direction⁠—despatch-boxing the compass.

But, while the so-potent art of Prospero himself would have failed in summoning the Barnacles from every speck of ocean and dry land on which there was nothing (except mischief) to be done and anything to be pocketed, it was perfectly feasible to assemble a good many Barnacles. This Mrs. Gowan applied herself to do; calling on Mr. Meagles frequently with new additions to the list, and holding conferences with that gentleman when he was not engaged (as he generally was at this period) in examining and paying the debts of his future son-in-law, in the apartment of scales and scoop.

One marriage guest there was, in reference to whose presence Mr. Meagles felt a nearer interest and concern than in the attendance of the most elevated Barnacle expected; though he was far from insensible of the honour of having such company. This guest was Clennam. But Clennam had made a promise he held sacred, among the trees that summer night, and, in the chivalry of his heart, regarded it as binding him to many implied obligations. In forgetfulness of himself, and delicate service to her on all occasions, he was never to fail; to begin it, he answered Mr. Meagles cheerfully, “I shall come, of course.”

His partner, Daniel Doyce, was something of a stumbling-block in Mr. Meagles’s way, the worthy gentleman being not at all clear in his own anxious mind but that the mingling of Daniel with official Barnacleism might produce some explosive combination, even at a marriage breakfast. The national offender, however, lightened him of his uneasiness by coming down to Twickenham to represent that he begged, with the freedom of an old friend, and as a favour to one, that he might not be invited. “For,” said he, “as my business with this set of gentlemen was to do a public duty and a public service, and as their business with me was to prevent it by wearing my soul out, I think we had better not eat and drink together with a show of being of one mind.” Mr. Meagles was much amused by his friend’s oddity; and patronised him with a more protecting air of allowance than usual, when he rejoined: “Well, well,