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or treacherous to you。 I do not understand you。'
John's incredulous face slowly softened into a face of doubt。 He rose；
backed into the garret…window of the room； beckoned Arthur to e
there； and stood looking at him thoughtfully。 'Mr Clennam； do you mean
to say that you don't know？'
'What； John？'
'Lord；' said Young John； appealing with a gasp to the spikes on the
wall。 'He says； What！'
Clennam looked at the spikes； and looked at John； and looked at the
spikes； and looked at John。
'He says What！ And what is more；' exclaimed Young John； surveying him in
a doleful maze； 'he appears to mean it！ Do you see this window； sir？'
'Of course I see this window。'
'See this room？'
'Why； of course I see this room。'
'That wall opposite； and that yard down below？ They have all been
witnesses of it； from day to day； from night to night； from week to
week； from month to month。 For how often have I seen Miss Dorrit here
when she has not seen me！'
'Witnesses of what？' said Clennam。
'Of Miss Dorrit's love。'
'For whom？'
'You；' said John。 And touched him with the back of his hand upon the
breast； and backed to his chair； and sat down on it with a pale face；
holding the arms； and shaking his head at him。
If he had dealt Clennam a heavy blow； instead of laying that light touch
upon him； its effect could not have been to shake him more。 He stood
amazed； his eyes looking at John； his lips parted； and seeming now and
then to form the word 'Me！' without uttering it； his hands dropped at
his sides； his whole appearance that of a man who has been awakened from
sleep； and stupefied by intelligence beyond his full prehension。
'Me！' he at length said aloud。
'Ah！' groaned Young John。 'You！'
He did what he could to muster a smile； and returned； 'Your fancy。 You
are pletely mistaken。'
'I mistaken； sir！' said Young John。 '_I_ pletely mistaken on that
subject！ No； Mr Clennam； don't tell me so。 On any other； if you like；
for I don't set up to be a perating character； and am well aware of
my own deficiencies。 But； _I_ mistaken on a point that has caused me
more smart in my breast than a flight of savages' arrows could have
done！ _I_ mistaken on a point that almost sent me into my grave； as
I sometimes wished it would； if the grave could only have been made
patible with the tobacco…business and father and mother's feelings！ I
mistaken on a point that； even at the present moment； makes me take out
my pocket…handkercher like a great girl； as people say： though I am sure
I don't know why a great girl should be a term of reproach； for every
rightly constituted male mind loves 'em great and small。 Don't tell me
so； don't tell me so！'
Still highly respectable at bottom； though absurd enough upon the
surface； Young John took out his pocket…handkerchief with a genuine
absence both of display and concealment； which is only to be seen in
a man with a great deal of good in him； when he takes out his
pocket…handkerchief for the purpose of wiping his eyes。 Having dried
them； and indulged in the harmless luxury of a sob and a sniff； he put
it up again。
The touch was still in its influence so like a blow that Arthur could
not get many words together to close the subject with。 He assured John
Chivery when he had returned his handkerchief to his pocket； that he
did all honour to his disinterestedness and to the fidelity of his
remembrance of Miss Dorrit。 As to the impression on his mind； of which
he had just relieved it……here John interposed； and said； 'No impression！
Certainty！'……as to that； they might perhaps speak of it at another time；
but would say no more now。 Feeling low…spirited and weary； he would go
back to his room； with john's leave； and e out no more that night。
John assented； and he crept back in the shadow of the wall to his own
lodging。
The feeling of the blow was still so strong upon him that； when the
dirty old woman was gone whom he found sitting on the stairs outside
his door； waiting to make his bed； and who gave him to understand while
doing it； that she had received her instructions from Mr Chivery； 'not
the old 'un but the young 'un；' he sat down in the faded arm…chair；
pressing his head between his hands； as if he had been stunned。 Little
Dorrit love him！ More bewildering to him than his misery； far。
Consider the improbability。 He had been accustomed to call her his
child； and his dear child； and to invite her confidence by dwelling upon
the difference in their respective ages； and to speak of himself as one
who was turning old。 Yet she might not have thought him old。 Something
reminded him that he had not thought himself so； until the roses had
floated away upon the river。
He had her two letters among other papers in his box； and he took them
out and read them。 There seemed to be a sound in them like the sound
of her sweet voice。 It fell upon his ear with many tones of tenderness；
that were not insusceptible of the new meaning。 Now it was that the
quiet desolation of her answer；'No； No； No；' made to him that night
in that very room……that night when he had been shown the dawn of her
altered fortune； and when other words had passed between them which he
had been destined to remember in humiliation and a prisoner； rushed into
his mind。
Consider the improbability。
But it had a preponderating tendency； when considered； to bee
fainter。 There was another and a curious inquiry of his own heart's that
concurrently became stronger。 In the reluctance he had felt to believe
that she loved any one； in his desire to set that question at rest； in
a half…formed consciousness he had had that there would be a kind of
nobleness in his helping her love for any one； was there no suppressed
something on his own side that he had hushed as it arose？ Had he ever
whispered to himself that he must not think of such a thing as her
loving him； that he must not take advantage of her gratitude； that he
must keep his experience in remembrance as a warning and reproof；
that he must regard such youthful hopes as having passed away； as his
friend's dead daughter had passed away； that he must be steady in saying
to himself that the time had gone b