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ashes out。
Rather conscious and confused； Arthur asked his pardon； if he had stared
at him unpolitely。 'But my mind runs so much upon this matter；' he said；
'that I lose myself。'
'Hah！ Yet I don't see；' returned Mr Flintwinch； quite at his leisure；
'why it should trouble YOU； Arthur。'
'No？'
'No；' said Mr Flintwinch； very shortly and decidedly： much as if he were
of the canine race； and snapped at Arthur's hand。
'Is it nothing to see those placards about？ Is it nothing to me to
see my mother's name and residence hawked up and down in such an
association？'
'I don't see；' returned Mr Flintwinch； scraping his horny cheek； 'that
it need signify much to you。 But I'll tell you what I do see； Arthur；'
glancing up at the windows； 'I see the light of fire and candle in your
mother's room！'
'And what has that to do with it？'
'Why； sir； I read by it；' said Mr Flintwinch； screwing himself at him；
'that if it's advisable （as the proverb says it is） to let sleeping dogs
lie； it's just as advisable； perhaps； to let missing dogs lie。 Let 'em
be。 They generally turn up soon enough。'
Mr Flintwinch turned short round when he had made this remark； and went
into the dark hall。 Clennam stood there； following him with his eyes；
as he dipped for a light in the phosphorus…box in the little room at the
side； got one after three or four dips； and lighted the dim lamp against
the wall。 All the while； Clennam was pursuing the probabilities……rather
as if they were being shown to him by an invisible hand than as if he
himself were conjuring them up……of Mr Flintwinch's ways and means of
doing that darker deed； and removing its traces by any of the black
avenues of shadow that lay around them。
'Now； sir；' said the testy Jeremiah； 'will it be agreeable to walk
up…stairs？'
'My mother is alone； I suppose？'
'Not alone；' said Mr Flintwinch。 'Mr Casby and his daughter are with
her。 They came in while I was smoking； and I stayed behind to have my
smoke out。'
This was the second disappointment。 Arthur made no remark upon it； and
repaired to his mother's room； where Mr Casby and Flora had been
taking tea； anchovy paste； and hot buttered toast。 The relics of those
delicacies were not yet removed； either from the table or from the
scorched countenance of Affery； who； with the kitchen toasting…fork
still in her hand； looked like a sort of allegorical personage； except
that she had a considerable advantage over the general run of such
personages in point of significant emblematical purpose。
Flora had spread her bon and shawl upon the bed； with a care
indicative of an intention to stay some time。 Mr Casby； too； was beaming
near the hob； with his benevolent knobs shining as if the warm butter of
the toast were exuding through the patriarchal skull； and with his face
as ruddy as if the colouring matter of the anchovy paste were mantling
in the patriarchal visage。 Seeing this； as he exchanged the
usual salutations； Clennam decided to speak to his mother without
postponement。
It had long been customary； as she never changed her room； for those who
had anything to say to her apart； to wheel her to her desk； where she
sat； usually with the back of her chair turned towards the rest of the
room； and the person who talked with her seated in a corner； on a stool
which was always set in that place for that purpose。 Except that it
was long since the mother and son had spoken together without the
intervention of a third person； it was an ordinary matter of course
within the experience of visitors for Mrs Clennam to be asked； with a
word of apology for the interruption； if she could be spoken with on
a matter of business； and； on her replying in the affirmative； to be
wheeled into the position described。
Therefore； when Arthur now made such an apology； and such a request；
and moved her to her desk and seated himself on the stool； Mrs Finching
merely began to talk louder and faster； as a delicate hint that she
could overhear nothing； and Mr Casby stroked his long white locks with
sleepy calmness。
'Mother； I have heard something to…day which I feel persuaded you don't
know； and which I think you should know； of the antecedents of that man
I saw here。'
'I know nothing of the antecedents of the man you saw here； Arthur。'
She spoke aloud。 He had lowered his own voice； but she rejected that
advance towards confidence as she rejected every other； and spoke in her
usual key and in her usual stern voice。
'I have received it on no circuitous information； it has e to me
direct。' She asked him； exactly as before； if he were there to tell her
what it was？
'I thought it right that you should know it。'
'And what is it？'
'He has been a prisoner in a French gaol。'
She answered with posure； 'I should think that very likely。'
'But in a gaol for criminals； mother。 On an accusation of murder。'
She started at the word； and her looks expressed her natural horror。 Yet
she still spoke aloud； when she demanded：……
'Who told you so？'
'A man who was his fellow…prisoner。'
'That man's antecedents； I suppose； were not known to you； before he
told you？'
'No。'
'Though the man himself was？'
'Yes。'
'My case and Flintwinch's； in respect of this other man！ I dare say the
resemblance is not so exact； though； as that your informant became known
to you through a letter from a correspondent with whom he had deposited
money？ How does that part of the parallel stand？'
Arthur had no choice but to say that his informant had not bee known
to him through the agency of any such credentials； or indeed of any
credentials at all。 Mrs Clennam's attentive frown expanded by degrees
into a severe look of triumph； and she retorted with emphasis； 'Take
care how you judge others； then。 I say to you； Arthur； for your good；
take care how you judge！' Her emphasis had been derived from her eyes
quite as much as from the stress she laid upon her words。 She continued
to look at him； and if； when he entered the house； he had had any latent
hope of prevailing in the least with her； she now looked it out of his
heart。
'Mother； shall I do nothing to assist you？'
'Nothing。'
'Will you entrust me with no confidence； no charge； no explanation？
Will you take no counsel with me？ Will you not let me e near you？'
'How can you ask me？ You separated yourself from my affairs。 It was not
my act； it was yours。 How can you consistently ask me such a question？
You know that you left me to Flintwinch； and that he occupies your
place。'
Glancing at Jeremiah； Clennam saw in his very gaiters that his attention
was closely directed to them； though he stood leaning against the wall
scraping his jaw； and pretended to listen to Flora as she held forth in
a most distracting manner on a chaos of subjects； in which mackerel； and
Mr F。's Aunt in a swing； had bee entangled with cockchafers and the
wine trade。
'A prisoner； in a French gaol； on an accusation of murder；' repeated
Mrs Clennam； steadily going over what her son had said。 'That is all you
know of him from the fellow…prisoner？'
'In substance； all。'
'And was the fellow…prisoner his acplice and a murderer； too？ But； of
course； he gives a better account of himself than of his friend； it is
needless to ask。 This will supply the rest of them here with something
new to talk about。 Casby； Arthur tells me……'
'Stay； mother！ Stay； stay！' He interrupted her hastily； for it had not
entered his imagination that she would openly proclaim what he had told
her。
'What now？' she said with displeasure。 'What more？'
'I beg you to excuse me； Mr Casby……and you； too； Mrs Finching……for one
other moment with my mother……'
He had laid his hand upon her chair； or she would otherwise have wheeled
it round with the touch of her foot upon the ground。 They were still
face to face。 She looked at him； as he ran over the possibilities of
some result he had not intended； and could not foresee； being influenced
by Cavalletto's disclosure being a matter of notoriety； and hurriedly
arrived at the conclusion that it had best not be talked about； though
perhaps he was guided by no more distinct reason than that he had taken
it for granted that his mother would reserve it to herself and her
partner。
'What now？' she said again； impatiently。 'What is it？'
'I did not mean； mother； that you should repeat what I have
municated。 I think you had better not repeat it。'
'Do you make that a condition with me？'
'Well！ Yes。'
'Observe； then！ It is you who make this a secret；' said she； holding
up her hand； 'and not I。 It is you； Arthur； who bring here doubts and
suspicions and entreaties for explanations； and it is you； Arthur； who
bring secrets here。 What is it to me； do you think； where the man has
been； or what he has been？ What can it be to me？ The whole world may
know it； if they care to know it； it is nothing to me。 Now； let me go。'
He yielded to her imperious but elated look； and turned her chair back
to the place from which he had wheeled it。 In doing so he saw elation
in the face of Mr Flintwinch； which most assuredly was not inspired by
Flora。 This turning of his intelligence and of his whole attempt and
design against himself； did even more than his mother's fixedness and
firmness to convince him that his efforts with her were idle。 Nothing
remained but the appeal to his old friend Affery。
But even to get the very doubtful and preliminary stage of making the
appeal； seemed one of the least promising of human undertakings。 She
was so pletely under the thrall of the two clever ones； was so
systematically kept in sight by one or other of them； and was so afraid
to go about the house besides； that every opportunity of speaking to her
alone appeared to be forestalled。 Over and above that； Mistress Affery；
by some means （it was not very difficult to guess； through the sharp
arguments of her liege lord）； had acquired such a lively conviction
of the hazard of saying anything under any circumstances； that she had
remained all this time in a corner guarding herself from approach with
that symbolical instrument of hers； so that； when a word or two had
been addressed to her by Flora； or even by the bottle…green patriarch
himself； she had warded off conversation with the toasting…fork like a
dumb woman。
After several abortive attempts to get Affery to look at him while
she cleared the table and washed the tea…service； Arthur thought of an
expedient which Flora might originate。 To whom he therefore whispered；
'Could you say you would like to go through the house？'
Now； poor Flora； being always in fluctuating expectation of the time
when Clennam would renew his boyhood and be madly in love with her
again； received the whisper with the utmost delight； not only as
rendered precious by its mysterious character； but as preparing the
way for a tender interview in which he would declare the state of his
affections。 She immediately began to work out the hint。
'Ah dear me the poor old room；' said Flora； glancing round； 'looks just
as ever Mrs Clennam I am touched to see except for being smokier which
was to be expected with time and which we must all expect and reconcile
ourselves to being whether we like it or not as I am sure I have had to
do myself if not exactly smokier dreadfully stouter which is the same or
worse； to think of the days when papa used to bring me here the least of
girls a perfect mass of chilblains to be stuck upon a chair with my feet
on the rails and stare at Arthur……pray excuse me……Mr Clennam……the
least of boys in the frightfullest of frills and jackets ere yet Mr
F。 appeared a misty shadow on the horizon paying attentions like the
well…known spectre of some place in Germany beginning with a B is a
moral lesson inculcating that all the paths in life are similar to the
paths down in the North of England where they get the coals and make the
iron and things gravelled with ashes！'
Having paid the tribute of a sigh to the instability of human existence；
Flora hurried on with her purpose。
'Not that at any time；' she proceeded； 'its worst enemy could have said
it was a cheerful house for that it was never made to be but always
highly impressive； fond memory recalls an occasion in