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

Mr. Dorrit did not like. Seated at table in the act of drinking, Mr. Dorrit still saw him through his wineglass, regarding him with a cold and ghostly eye. It misgave him that the Chief Butler must have known a Collegian, and must have seen him in the College⁠—perhaps had been presented to him. He looked as closely at the Chief Butler as such a man could be looked at, and yet he did not recall that he had ever seen him elsewhere. Ultimately he was inclined to think that there was no reverence in the man, no sentiment in the great creature. But he was not relieved by that; for, let him think what he would, the Chief Butler had him in his supercilious eye, even when that eye was on the plate and other table-garniture; and he never let him out of it. To hint to him that this confinement in his eye was disagreeable, or to ask him what he meant, was an act too daring to venture upon; his severity with his employers and their visitors being terrific, and he never permitting himself to be approached with the slightest liberty. XVII Missing

The term of Mr. Dorrit’s visit was within two days of being out, and he was about to dress for another inspection by the Chief Butler (whose victims were always dressed expressly for him), when one of the servants of the hotel presented himself bearing a card. Mr. Dorrit, taking it, read:

“Mrs. Finching.”

The servant waited in speechless deference.

“Man, man,” said Mr. Dorrit, turning upon him with grievous indignation, “explain your motive in bringing me this ridiculous name. I am wholly unacquainted with it. Finching, sir?” said Mr. Dorrit, perhaps avenging himself on the Chief Butler by Substitute. “Ha! What do you mean by Finching?”

The man, man, seemed to mean Flinching as much as anything else, for he backed away from Mr. Dorrit’s severe regard, as he replied, “A lady, sir.”

“I know no such lady, sir,” said Mr. Dorrit. “Take this card away. I know no Finching of either sex.”

“Ask your pardon, sir. The lady said she was aware she might be unknown by name. But she begged me to say, sir, that she had formerly the honour of being acquainted with Miss Dorrit. The lady said, sir, the youngest Miss Dorrit.”

Mr. Dorrit knitted his brows and rejoined, after a moment or two, “Inform Mrs. Finching, sir,” emphasising the name as if the innocent man were solely responsible for it, “that she can come up.”

He had reflected, in his momentary pause, that unless she were admitted she might leave some message, or might say something below, having a disgraceful reference to that former state of existence. Hence the concession, and hence the appearance of Flora, piloted in by the man, man.

“I have not the pleasure,” said Mr. Dorrit, standing with the card in his hand, and with an air which imported that it would scarcely have been a first-class pleasure if he had had it, “of knowing either this name, or yourself, madam. Place a chair, sir.”

The responsible man, with a start, obeyed, and went out on tiptoe. Flora, putting aside her veil with a bashful tremor upon her, proceeded to introduce herself. At the same time a singular combination of perfumes was diffused through the room, as if some brandy had been put by mistake in a lavender-water bottle, or as if some lavender-water had been put by mistake in a brandy-bottle.

“I beg Mr. Dorrit to offer a thousand apologies and indeed they would be far too few for such an intrusion which I know must appear extremely bold in a lady and alone too, but I thought it best upon the whole however difficult and even apparently improper though Mr. F.’s Aunt would have willingly accompanied me and as a character of great force and spirit would probably have struck one possessed of such a knowledge of life as no doubt with so many changes must have been acquired, for Mr. F. himself said frequently that although well educated in the neighbourhood of Blackheath at as high as eighty guineas which is a good deal for parents and the plate kept back too on going away but that is more a meanness than its value that he had learnt more in his first years as a commercial traveller with a large commission on the sale of an article that nobody would hear of much less buy which preceded the wine trade a long time than in the whole six years in that academy conducted by a college Bachelor, though why a Bachelor more clever than a married man I do not see and never did but pray excuse me that is not the point.”

Mr. Dorrit stood rooted to the carpet, a statue of mystification.

“I must openly admit that I have no pretensions,” said Flora, “but having known the dear little thing which under altered circumstances appears a liberty but is not so intended and Goodness knows there was no favour in half-a-crown a-day to such a needle as herself but quite the other way and as to anything lowering in it far from it the labourer is worthy of his hire and I am sure I only wish he got it oftener and more animal food and less rheumatism in the back and legs poor soul.”

“Madam,” said Mr. Dorrit, recovering his breath by a great effort, as the relict of the late Mr. Finching stopped to take hers; “madam,” said Mr. Dorrit, very red in the face, “if I understand you to refer to⁠—ha⁠—to anything in the antecedents of⁠—hum⁠—a daughter of mine, involving⁠—ha hum⁠—daily compensation, madam, I beg to observe that the⁠—ha⁠—fact, assuming it⁠—ha⁠—to be fact, never was within my knowledge. Hum. I should not have permitted it. Ha. Never! Never!”

“Unnecessary to pursue the subject,” returned Flora, “and would not have mentioned it on any account except as supposing it a favourable and only letter of introduction but as to being fact no doubt whatever and you may set your mind at rest for the very dress I