having gone about ever since halter and all, exactly as some timely hand had cut him down.

"You'll have bitter words together to-morrow, Arthur; you and your mother," said Jeremiah. "Your having given up the business on your father's death-which she suspects, though we have left it to you to tell her-won't go off smoothly."

"I have given up everything in life for the business, and the time came for me to give up that."

"Good!" cried Jeremiah, evidently meaning Bad. "Very good! only don't expect me to stand between your mother and you, Arthur. I stood between your mother and your father, fending off this, and fending off that, and getting crushed and pounded betwixt 'em; and I've done with such work."

"You will never be asked to begin it again for me, Jeremiah."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it; because I should have had to decline it, if I had been. That's enough-as your mother says-and more than enough of such matters on a Sabbath night. Affery, woman, have you found what you want yet?"

She had been collecting sheets and blankets from a press, and hastened to gather them up, and to reply, "yes, Jeremiah." Arthur Clennam helped her by carrying the load himself, wished the old man good night, and went upstairs with her to the top of the house.

They mounted up and up, through the musty smell of an old close house, little used, to a large garret bed-room. Meagre and spare, like all the other rooms, it was even uglier and grimmer than the rest, by being the place of banishment for the worn out furniture. Its moveables were ugly old chairs with worn out seats, and ugly old chairs without any seats; a threadbare patternless carpet, a maimed table, a crippled wardrobe, a lean set of fire-irons like the skeleton of a set deceased, a washing stand that looked as if it had stood for ages in a hail of dirty soap-suds, and a bedstead with four bare atomies of posts, each terminating in a spike, as if for the dismal accommodation of lodgers who might prefer to impale themselves. Arthur opened the long low window, and looked out upon the old blasted and blackened forest of chimneys, and the old red glare in the sky which had seemed to him once upon a time but a nightly reflection of the fiery environment that was presented to his childish fancy in all directions, let it look where it would.

He drew in his head again, sat down at the bedside, and looked on at Affery Flintwinch making the bed.

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Affery, you were not married when I went away."

She screwed her mouth into the form of saying "No," shook her head, and proceeded to get a pillow into its case.

"How did it happen?"

"Why, Jeremiah, o' course," said Affery, with an end of the pillowcase between her teeth.

"Of course he proposed it, but how did it all come about? I should have thought that neither of you would have married; least of all should I have thought of your marrying cach other."

"No more should I," said Mrs. Flintwinch, tying the pillow tightly in its case.

"That's what I mean.

When did you begin to think otherwise?"

"Never begun to think otherwise at all," said Mrs. Flintwinch. Seeing, as she patted the pillow into its place on the bolster, that he was still looking at her, as if waiting for the rest of her reply, she gave it a great poke in the middle, and asked, "How could I help myself?" "How could you help yourself from being married?"

"O' course," said Mrs. Flintwinch. "It was no doing o' mine. I'd never thought of it. I'd got something to do, without thinking, indeed! She kept me to it when she could go about, and she could go about then.” "Well?"

"Well?" echoed Mrs. Flintwinch. "That's what I said myself. Well! What's the use of considering? If them two clever ones has made up their minds to it, what's left for me to do? Nothing." "Was it my mother's project, then?"

"The Lord bless you, Arthur, and forgive me the wish!" cried Affery, speaking always in a low tone. "If they hadn't been both of a mind in it, how could it ever have been? Jeremiah never courted me; t'ant likely that he would, after living in the house with me and ordering me about for as many years as he'd done. He said to me one day, he said, 'Affery,' he said, 'now I am going to tell you something. What do you think of the name of Flintwinch?' What do I think of it?' I says. Yes,' he said; because you're going to take it,' he said. Take it?' I says. 'Jere-mi-ah?' Oh, he's a clever one!"

Mrs. Flintwinch went on to spread the upper sheet over the bed, and the blanket over that, and the counterpane over that, as if she had quite concluded her story.

"Well?" said Arthur again.

“Well?" echoed Mrs. Flintwinch again. "How could I help myself? He said to me, 'Affery, you and me must be married, and I'll tell you why. She's failing in health, and she'll want pretty constant attendance up in her room, and we shall have to be much with her, and there'll be nobody about now but ourselves when we're away from her, and altogether it will be more convenient. She's of my opinion,' he said, so if you'll put your bonnet on, next Monday morning at eight, we'll get it over.' Mrs. Flintwinch tucked up the bed.

แ "Well?"

"Well?" repeated Mrs. Flintwinch, "I think so! I sits me down and says it. Well!-Jeremiah then says to me, 'As to banns, next Sunday being the third time of asking (for I've put 'em up a fortnight), is my reason for naming Monday. She'll speak to you about it herself, and now she'll find you prepared, Affery. That same day she spoke to me, and she said, 'So, Affery, I understand that you and Jeremiah are going to be married. I am glad of it, and so are you, with reason. It is a very good thing for you, and very welcome under the circumstances to me. He is a sensible man, and a trustworthy man, and a persevering man, and a pious man.' What could I say when it had come to that? Why, if it had been-a Smothering instead of a Wedding," Mrs. Flintwinch cast about in her mind with great pains for this form of expression, "I couldn't have said a word upon it, against them two clever ones."

"In good faith, I believe so."

"And so you may, Arthur."

Affery, what girl was that in my mother's room just now?" "Girl?" said Mrs. Flintwinch in a rather sharp key.

"It was a girl, surely, whom I saw near you-almost hidden in the dark corner?

"Oh! She? Little Dorrit? She's nothing; she's a whim of-hers." It was a peculiarity of Affery Flintwinch that she never spoke of Mrs. Clennam by name. "But there's another sort of girls than that about. Have you forgot your old sweetheart? Long and long ago, I'll be bound." "I suffered enough from my mother's separating us, to remember I recollect her very well."

her.

"Here's news for you, then. She's well to do now, And if you like to have her, why you can."

"And how do you know that, Affery?"

and a widow.

"Them two clever ones have been speaking about it. There's Jeremiah on the stairs!" She was gone in a moment.

Mrs. Flintwinch had introduced into the web that his mind was busily weaving, in that old workshop where the loom of his youth had stood, the last thread wanting to the pattern. The airy folly of a boy's love had found its way even into that house, and he had been as wretched under its hopelessness as if the house had been a castle of romance. Little more than a week ago, at Marseilles, the face of the pretty girl from whom he had parted with regret, had had an unusual interest for him, and a tender hold upon him, because of some resemblance, real or imagined, to this first face that had soared out of his gloomy life into the bright glories of fancy. He leaned upon the sill of the long low window, and looking out upon the blackened forest of chimneys again, began to dream. For, it had been the uniform tendency of this man's life-so much was wanting in it to think about, so much that might have been better directed and happier to speculate upon-to make him a dreamer, after all.

CHAPTER IV.

MRS. FLINTWINCH HAS A DREAM.

WHEN Mrs. Flintwinch dreamed, she usually dreamed unlike the son of her old mistress, with her eyes shut. She had a curiously vivid dream that night, and before she had left the son of her old mistress many hours. In fact it was not at all like a dream, it was so very real in every respect. It happened in this wise.

The bed-chamber occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Flintwinch was within a few paces of that to which Mrs. Clennam had been so long confined. It was not on the same floor, for it was a room at the side of the house, which was approached by a steep descent of a few odd steps, diverging from the main staircase nearly opposite to Mrs. Clennam's door. It could scarcely be said to be within call, the walls, doors, and panelling of the

old place were so cumbrous; but it was within easy reach, in any undress, at any hour of the night, in any temperature. At the head of the bed, and within a foot of Mrs. Flintwinch's ear, was a bell, the line of which hung ready to Mrs. Clennam's hand. Whenever this bell rang, up started Affery, and was in the sick room before she was awake.

Having got her mistress into bed, lighted her lamp, and given her good night, Mrs Flintwinch went to roost as usual, saving that her lord had not yet appeared. It was her lord himself who became-unlike the last theme in the mind, according to the observation of most philosophers the subject of Mrs. Flintwinch's dream.

It seemed to her that she awoke, after sleeping some hours, and found Jeremiah not yet abed. That she looked at the candle she had left burning, and, measuring the time like king Alfred the Great, was confirmed by its wasted state in her belief that she had been asleep for some considerable period. That she arose thereupon, muffled herself up in a wrapper, put on her shoes, and went out on the staircase much surprised, to look for Jeremiah.

The staircase was as wooden and solid as need be, and Affery went straight down it without any of those deviations peculiar to dreams. She did not skim over it, but walked down it, and guided herself by the bannisters on account of her candle having died out. In one corner of the hall, behind the house-door, there was a little waitingroom, like a well-shaft, with a long narrow window in it as if it had been ripped up. In this room, which was never used, a light was burning. Mrs. Flintwinch crossed the hall, feeling its pavement cold to her stockingless feet, and peeped in between the rusty hinges of the door, which stood a little open. She expected to see Jeremiah fast asleep or in a fit, but he was calmly seated in a chair, awake, and in his usual health. But what-hey?-Lord forgive us!-Mrs. Flintwinch muttered some ejaculation to this effect, and turned giddy.

For, Mr. Flintwinch awake, was watching Mr. Flintwinch asleep. He sat on one side of a small table, looking keenly at himself on the other side with his chin sunk on his breast, snoring. The waking Flintwinch had his full front face presented to his wife; the sleeping Flintwinch was in profile. The waking Flintwinch was the old original; the sleeping Flintwinch was the double. Just as she might have distinguished between a tangible object and its reflection in a glass, Affery made out this difference with her head going round and round. If she had had any doubt which was her own Jeremiah, it would have been resolved by his impatience. He looked about him for an offensive weapon, caught up the snuffers, and, before applying them to the cabbage-headed candle, lunged at the sleeper as though he would have run him through the body.

"Who's that? What's the matter?" cried the sleeper, starting.

Mr. Flintwinch made a movement with the snuffers, as if he would have enforced silence on his companion by putting them down his throat; the companion coming to himself, said, rubbing his eyes, “I forgot where I was.'

"You have been asleep," snarled Jeremiah, referring to his watch, "two hours. You said you would be rested enough if you had a short nap."

"I have had a short nap," said Double.

"Half-past two o'clock in the morning," muttered Jeremiah. "Where's your hat? Where's your coat? Where's the box?"

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"All here," said Double, tying up his throat with sleepy carefulness in a shawl. Stop a minute. Now give me the sleeve-not that sleeve, the other one. Ha! I'm not as young as I was." Mr. Flintwinch had pulled him into his coat with vehement energy. "You promised me a second glass after I was rested."

"Drink it!" returned Jeremiah, "and-choke yourself, I was going to say-but go, I mean." At the same time he produced the identical port-wine bottle, and filled a wine-glass.

"Her port-wine, I believe?" said Double, tasting it as if he were in the Docks, with hours to spare. "Her health."

He took a sip.

"Your health!"
He took another sip.
"His health!"

He took another sip.

"And all friends round Saint Paul's." He emptied and put down the wine-glass half-way through this ancient civic toast, and took up the box. It was an iron box some two feet square, which he carried under his arms pretty easily. Jeremiah watched his manner of adjusting it, with jealous eyes; tried it with his hands, to be sure that he had a firm hold of it; bade him for his life be careful what he was about; and then stole out on tiptoe to open the door for him. Affery, anticipating the last movement, was on the staircase. The sequence of things was so ordinary and natural, that, standing there, she could hear the door open, feel the night air, and see the stars outside.

But now came the most remarkable part of the dream. She felt so afraid of her husband, that being on the staircase, she had not the power to retreat to her room (which she might easily have done before he had fastened the door), but stood there staring. Consequently when he came up the staircase to bed, candle in hand, he came full upon her. He looked astonished, but said not a word. He kept his eyes upon her, and kept advancing; and she, completely under his influence, kept retiring before him. Thus, she walking backward and he walking forward, they came into their own room. They were no sooner shut in there, than Mr. Flintwinch took her by the throat, and shook her until she was black in the face.

"Why, Affery, woman-Affery!" said Mr. Flintwinch. "What have you been dreaming of? Wake up, wake up! What's the matter?" "The the matter, Jeremiah?" gasped Mrs. Flintwinch, rolling her

eyes.

"Why, Affery, woman-Affery! You have been getting out of bed in your sleep, my dear! I come up, after having fallen asleep myself, below, and find you in your wrapper here, with the nightmare. Affery, woman," said Mr. Flintwinch, with a friendly grin on his expressive countenance, "if you ever have a dream of this sort again, it'll be a sign of your being in want of physic. And I'll give you such a dose, old woman-such a dose !"

Mrs. Flintwinch thanked him and crept into bed.