Little Dorrit Charles Dickens (e reader for manga TXT) 📖
- Author: Charles Dickens
Book online «Little Dorrit Charles Dickens (e reader for manga TXT) 📖». Author Charles Dickens
Though Mr. Rugg saw plainly there was no preventing this from being done, still the wryness of his face and the uneasiness of his limbs so sorely required the propitiation of a protest, that he made one. “I offer no objection, sir,” said he, “I argue no point with you. I will carry out your views, sir; but, under protest.” Mr. Rugg then stated, not without prolixity, the heads of his protest. These were, in effect, because the whole town, or he might say the whole country, was in the first madness of the late discovery, and the resentment against the victims would be very strong: those who had not been deluded being certain to wax exceedingly wroth with them for not having been as wise as they were: and those who had been deluded being certain to find excuses and reasons for themselves, of which they were equally certain to see that other sufferers were wholly devoid: not to mention the great probability of every individual sufferer persuading himself, to his violent indignation, that but for the example of all the other sufferers he never would have put himself in the way of suffering. Because such a declaration as Clennam’s, made at such a time, would certainly draw down upon him a storm of animosity, rendering it impossible to calculate on forbearance in the creditors, or on unanimity among them; and exposing him a solitary target to a straggling crossfire, which might bring him down from half-a-dozen quarters at once.
To all this Clennam merely replied that, granting the whole protest, nothing in it lessened the force, or could lessen the force, of the voluntary and public exoneration of his partner. He therefore, once and for all, requested Mr. Rugg’s immediate aid in getting the business despatched. Upon that, Mr. Rugg fell to work; and Arthur, retaining no property to himself but his clothes and books, and a little loose money, placed his small private banker’s-account with the papers of the business.
The disclosure was made, and the storm raged fearfully. Thousands of people were wildly staring about for somebody alive to heap reproaches on; and this notable case, courting publicity, set the living somebody so much wanted, on a scaffold. When people who had nothing to do with the case were so sensible of its flagrancy, people who lost money by it could scarcely be expected to deal mildly with it. Letters of reproach and invective showered in from the creditors; and Mr. Rugg, who sat upon the high stool every day and read them all, informed his client within a week that he feared there were writs out.
“I must take the consequences of what I have done,” said Clennam. “The writs will find me here.”
On the very next morning, as he was turning in Bleeding Heart Yard by Mrs. Plornish’s corner, Mrs. Plornish stood at the door waiting for him, and mysteriously besought him to step into Happy Cottage. There he found Mr. Rugg.
“I thought I’d wait for you here. I wouldn’t go on to the Countinghouse this morning if I was you, sir.”
“Why not, Mr. Rugg?”
“There are as many as five out, to my knowledge.”
“It cannot be too soon over,” said Clennam. “Let them take me at once.”
“Yes, but,” said Mr. Rugg, getting between him and the door, “hear reason, hear reason. They’ll take you soon enough, Mr. Clennam, I don’t doubt; but, hear reason. It almost always happens, in these cases, that some insignificant matter pushes itself in front and makes much of itself. Now, I find there’s a little one out—a mere Palace Court jurisdiction—and I have reason to believe that a caption may be made upon that. I wouldn’t be taken upon that.”
“Why not?” asked Clennam.
“I’d be taken on a full-grown one, sir,” said Mr. Rugg. “It’s as well to keep up appearances. As your professional adviser, I should prefer your being taken on a writ from one of the Superior Courts, if you have no objection to do me that favour. It looks better.”
“Mr. Rugg,” said Arthur, in his dejection, “my only wish is, that it should be over. I will go on, and take my chance.”
“Another word of reason, sir!” cried Mr. Rugg. “Now, this is reason. The other may be taste; but this is reason. If you should be taken on a little one, sir, you would go to the Marshalsea. Now, you know what the Marshalsea is. Very close. Excessively confined. Whereas in the King’s Bench—” Mr. Rugg
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