Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens [big ebook reader txt] 📗

a meekness which, in the junction of extremes, became defiance; and her father, either not deigning to answer, or not knowing what to answer, summoned Mr. Tinkler into his presence.

“Mrs. General.”

Mr. Tinkler, unused to receive such short orders in connection with the fair varnisher, paused. Mr. Dorrit, seeing the whole Marshalsea and all its testimonials in the pause, instantly flew at him with, “How dare you, sir? What do you mean?”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” pleaded Mr. Tinkler, “I was wishful to know⁠—”

“You wished to know nothing, sir,” cried Mr. Dorrit, highly flushed. “Don’t tell me you did. Ha. You didn’t. You are guilty of mockery, sir.”

“I assure you, sir⁠—” Mr. Tinkler began.

“Don’t assure me!” said Mr. Dorrit. “I will not be assured by a domestic. You are guilty of mockery. You shall leave me⁠—hum⁠—the whole establishment shall leave me. What are you waiting for?”

“Only for my orders, sir.”

“It’s false,” said Mr. Dorrit, “you have your orders. Ha⁠—hum. My compliments to Mrs. General, and I beg the favour of her coming to me, if quite convenient, for a few minutes. Those are your orders.”

In his execution of this mission, Mr. Tinkler perhaps expressed that Mr. Dorrit was in a raging fume. However that was, Mrs. General’s skirts were very speedily heard outside, coming along⁠—one might almost have said bouncing along⁠—with unusual expedition. Albeit, they settled down at the door and swept into the room with their customary coolness.

“Mrs. General,” said Mr. Dorrit, “take a chair.”

Mrs. General, with a graceful curve of acknowledgment, descended into the chair which Mr. Dorrit offered.

“Madam,” pursued that gentleman, “as you have had the kindness to undertake the⁠—hum⁠—formation of my daughters, and as I am persuaded that nothing nearly affecting them can⁠—ha⁠—be indifferent to you⁠—”

“Wholly impossible,” said Mrs. General in the calmest of ways.

“⁠—I therefore wish to announce to you, madam, that my daughter now present⁠—”

Mrs. General made a slight inclination of her head to Fanny, who made a very low inclination of her head to Mrs. General, and came loftily upright again.

“⁠—That my daughter Fanny is⁠—ha⁠—contracted to be married to Mr. Sparkler, with whom you are acquainted. Hence, madam, you will be relieved of half your difficult charge⁠—ha⁠—difficult charge.” Mr. Dorrit repeated it with his angry eye on Fanny. “But not, I hope, to the⁠—hum⁠—diminution of any other portion, direct or indirect, of the footing you have at present the kindness to occupy in my family.”

“Mr. Dorrit,” returned Mrs. General, with her gloved hands resting on one another in exemplary repose, “is ever considerate, and ever but too appreciative of my friendly services.”

(Miss Fanny coughed, as much as to say, “You are right.”)

“Miss Dorrit has no doubt exercised the soundest discretion of which the circumstances admitted, and I trust will allow me to offer her my sincere congratulations. When free from the trammels of passion,” Mrs. General closed her eyes at the word, as if she could not utter it, and see anybody; “when occurring with the approbation of near relatives; and when cementing the proud structure of a family edifice; these are usually auspicious events. I trust Miss Dorrit will allow me to offer her my best congratulations.”

Here Mrs. General stopped, and added internally, for the setting of her face, “Papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes, and prism.”

“Mr. Dorrit,” she superadded aloud, “is ever most obliging; and for the attention, and I will add distinction, of having this confidence imparted to me by himself and Miss Dorrit at this early time, I beg to offer the tribute of my thanks. My thanks, and my congratulations, are equally the meed of Mr. Dorrit and of Miss Dorrit.”

“To me,” observed Miss Fanny, “they are excessively gratifying⁠—inexpressibly so. The relief of finding that you have no objection to make, Mrs. General, quite takes a load off my mind, I am sure. I hardly know what I should have done,” said Fanny, “if you had interposed any objection, Mrs. General.”

Mrs. General changed her gloves, as to the right glove being uppermost and the left undermost, with a Prunes and Prism smile.

“To preserve your approbation, Mrs. General,” said Fanny, returning the smile with one in which there was no trace of those ingredients, “will of course be the highest object of my married life; to lose it, would of course be perfect wretchedness. I am sure your great kindness will not object, and I hope papa will not object, to my correcting a small mistake you have made, however. The best of us are so liable to mistakes, that even you, Mrs. General, have fallen into a little error. The attention and distinction you have so impressively mentioned, Mrs. General, as attaching to this confidence, are, I have no doubt, of the most complimentary and gratifying description; but they don’t at all proceed from me. The merit of having consulted you on the subject would have been so great in me, that I feel I must not lay claim to it when it really is not mine. It is wholly papa’s. I am deeply obliged to you for your encouragement and patronage, but it was papa who asked for it. I have to thank you, Mrs. General, for relieving my breast of a great weight by so handsomely giving your consent to my engagement, but you have really nothing to thank me for. I hope you will always approve of my proceedings after I have left home and that my sister also may long remain the favoured object of your condescension, Mrs. General.”

With this address, which was delivered in her politest manner, Fanny left the room with an elegant and cheerful air⁠—to tear upstairs with a flushed face as soon as she was out of hearing, pounce in upon her sister, call her a little Dormouse, shake her for the better opening of her eyes, tell her what had passed below, and ask her what she thought of Pa now?

Towards Mrs. Merdle, the young lady comported herself with great independence and self-possession; but not as yet with any more decided opening of hostilities. Occasionally they had a slight skirmish, as when Fanny considered herself patted on the back by that lady, or as when Mrs. Merdle looked particularly young and well; but Mrs. Merdle always soon terminated those passages of