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not in the least venerable； who seemed to have started out of the
earth to ask what was bee of Casby。 After staring at this phantom in
return； in silent awe； Mr Pancks threw down his shears； and fled for a
place of hiding； where he might lie sheltered from the consequences of
his crime。 Mr Pancks deemed it prudent to use all possible despatch in
making off； though he was pursued by nothing but the sound of laughter
in Bleeding Heart Yard； rippling through the air and making it ring
again。
CHAPTER 33。 Going！
The changes of a fevered room are slow and fluctuating； but the changes
of the fevered world are rapid and irrevocable。
It was Little Dorrit's lot to wait upon both kinds of change。 The
Marshalsea walls； during a portion of every day； again embraced her in
their shadows as their child； while she thought for Clennam； worked for
him； watched him； and only left him； still to devote her utmost love and
care to him。 Her part in the life outside the gate urged its pressing
claims upon her too； and her patience untiringly responded to them。
Here was Fanny； proud； fitful； whimsical； further advanced in that
disqualified state for going into society which had so much fretted
her on the evening of the tortoise…shell knife； resolved always to want
fort； resolved not to be forted； resolved to be deeply wronged；
and resolved that nobody should have the audacity to think her so。 Here
was her brother； a weak； proud； tipsy； young old man； shaking from
head to foot； talking as indistinctly as if some of the money he plumed
himself upon had got into his mouth and couldn't be got out； unable to
walk alone in any act of his life； and patronising the sister whom he
selfishly loved （he always had that negative merit； ill…starred and
ill…launched Tip！） because he suffered her to lead him。 Here was Mrs
Merdle in gauzy mourning……the original cap whereof had possibly been
rent to pieces in a fit of grief； but had certainly yielded to a highly
being article from the Parisian market……warring with Fanny foot to
foot； and breasting her with her desolate bosom every hour in the day。
Here was poor Mr Sparkler； not knowing how to keep the peace between
them； but humbly inclining to the opinion that they could do no better
than agree that they were both remarkably fine women； and that there was
no nonsense about either of them……for which gentle remendation they
united in falling upon him frightfully。 Then； too； here was Mrs General；
got home from foreign parts； sending a Prune and a Prism by post every
other day； demanding a new Testimonial by way of remendation to some
vacant appointment or other。 Of which remarkable gentlewoman it may be
finally observed； that there surely never was a gentlewoman of whose
transcendent fitness for any vacant appointment on the face of this
earth； so many people were （as the warmth of her Testimonials evinced）
so perfectly satisfied……or who was so very unfortunate in having a
large circle of ardent and distinguished admirers； who never themselves
happened to want her in any capacity。
On the first crash of the eminent Mr Merdle's decease； many important
persons had been unable to determine whether they should cut Mrs Merdle；
or fort her。 As it seemed； however； essential to the strength of
their own case that they should admit her to have been cruelly deceived；
they graciously made the admission； and continued to know her。 It
followed that Mrs Merdle； as a woman of fashion and good breeding who
had been sacrificed to the wiles of a vulgar barbarian （for Mr Merdle
was found out from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot； the
moment he was found out in his pocket）； must be actively championed by
her order for her order's sake。 She returned this fealty by causing it
to be understood that she was even more incensed against the felonious
shade of the deceased than anybody else was； thus； on the whole； she
came out of her furnace like a wise woman； and did exceedingly well。
Mr Sparkler's lordship was fortunately one of those shelves on which a
gentleman is considered to be put away for life； unless there should be
reasons for hoisting him up with the Barnacle crane to a more lucrative
height。 That patriotic servant accordingly stuck to his colours （the
Standard of four Quarterings）； and was a perfect Nelson in respect
of nailing them to the mast。 On the profits of his intrepidity； Mrs
Sparkler and Mrs Merdle； inhabiting different floors of the genteel
little temple of inconvenience to which the smell of the day before
yesterday's soup and coach…horses was as constant as Death to man；
arrayed themselves to fight it out in the lists of Society； sworn
rivals。 And Little Dorrit； seeing all these things as they developed
themselves； could not but wonder； anxiously； into what back corner of
the genteel establishment Fanny's children would be poked by…and…by； and
who would take care of those unborn little victims。
Arthur being far too ill to be spoken with on subjects of emotion or
anxiety； and his recovery greatly depending on the repose into which
his weakness could be hushed； Little Dorrit's sole reliance during this
heavy period was on Mr Meagles。 He was still abroad； but she had written
to him through his daughter； immediately after first seeing Arthur in
the Marshalsea and since； confiding her uneasiness to him on the points
on which she was most anxious； but especially on one。 To that one；
the continued absence of Mr Meagles abroad； instead of his forting
presence in the Marshalsea； was referable。
Without disclosing the precise nature of the documents that had fallen
into Rigaud's hands； Little Dorrit had confided the general outline of
that story to Mr Meagles； to whom she had also recounted his fate。 The
old cautious habits of the scales and scoop at once showed Mr Meagles
the importance of recovering the original papers； wherefore he wrote
back to Little Dorrit； strongly confirming her in the solicitude she
expressed on that head； and adding that he would not e over to
England 'without making some attempt to trace them out。'
By this time Mr Henry Gowan had made up his mind that it would be
agreeable to him not to know the Meagleses。 He was so considerate as to
lay no injunctions on his wife in that particular； but he mentioned
to Mr Meagles that personally they did not appear to him to get on
together； and that he thought it would be a good thing if……politely； and
without any scene； or anything of that sort……they agreed that they were
the best fellows in the world； but were best apart。 Poor Mr Meagles； who
was already sensible that he did not advance his daughter's happiness by
being constantly slighted in her presence； said 'Good； Henry！ You are
my Pet's husband； you have displaced me； in the course of nature； if
you wish it； good！' This arrangement involved the contingent advantage；
which perhaps Henry Gowan had not foreseen； that both Mr and Mrs
Meagles were more liberal than before to their daughter； when their
munication was only with her and her young child： and that his high
spirit found itself better provided with money； without being under the
degrading necessity of knowing whence it came。
Mr Meagles； at such a period； naturally seized an occupation with great
ardour。 He knew from his daughter the various towns which Rigaud had
been haunting； and the various hotels at which he had been living for
some time back。 The occupation he set himself was to visit these with
all discretion and speed； and； in the event of finding anywhere that he
had left a bill unpaid； and a box or parcel behind； to pay such bill；
and bring away such box or parcel。
With no other attendant than Mother； Mr Meagles went upon his
pilgrimage； and encountered a number of adventures。 Not the least of his
difficulties was； that he never knew what was said to him； and that he
pursued his inquiries among people who never knew what he said to them。
Still； with an unshaken confidence that the English tongue was somehow
the mother tongue of the whole world； only the people were too stupid
to know it； Mr Meagles harangued innkeepers in the most voluble manner；
entered into loud explanations of the most plicated sort； and utterly
renounced replies in the native language of the respondents； on the
ground that they were 'all bosh。' Sometimes interpreters were called
in； whom Mr Meagles addressed in such idiomatic terms of speech； as
instantly to extinguish and shut up……which made the matter worse。 On a
balance of the account； however； it may be doubted whether he lost much；
for； although he found no property； he found so many debts and various
associations of discredit with the proper name； which was the only word
he made intelligible； that he was almost everywhere overwhelmed with
injurious accusations。 On no fewer than four occasions the police
were called in to receive denunciations of Mr Meagles as a Knight of
Industry； a good…for…nothing； and a thief； all of which opprobrious
language he bore with the best temper （having no idea what it meant）；
and was in the most ignominious manner escorted to steam…boats and
public carriages； to be got rid of； talking all the while； like a
cheerful and fluent Briton as he was； with Mother under his arm。
But； in his own tongue； and in his own head； Mr Meagles was a clear；
shrewd； persevering man。 When he had 'worked round；' as he called it； to
Paris in his pilgrimage； and had wholly failed in it so far； he was not
disheartened。 'The nearer to England I follow him； you see； Mother；'
argued Mr Meagles； 'the nearer I am likely to e to the papers；
whether they turn up or no。 Because it is only reasonable to conclude
that he would deposit them somewhere where they would be safe from
people over in England； and where they would yet be accessible to
himself； don't you see？'
At Paris Mr Meagles found a letter from Little Dorrit； lying waiting for
him； in which she mentioned that she had been able to talk for a minute
or two with Mr Clennam about this man who was no more； and that when she
told Mr Clennam that his friend Mr Meagles； who was on his way to see
him； had an interest in ascertaining something about the man if he
could； he had asked her to tell Mr Meagles that he had been known
to Miss Wade； then living in such a street at Calais。 'Oho！' said Mr
Meagles。
As soon afterwards as might be in those Diligence days； Mr Meagles
rang the cracked bell at the cracked gate； and it jarred open； and the
peasant…woman stood in the dark doorway； saying； 'Ice…say！ Seer！ Who？'
In acknowledgment of whose address； Mr Meagles murmured to himself that
there was some sense about these Calais people； who really did know
something of what you and themselves were up to； and returned； 'Miss
Wade； my dear。' He was then shown into the presence of Miss Wade。
'It's some time since we met；' said Mr Meagles； clearing his throat； 'I
hope you have been pretty well； Miss Wade？'
Without hoping that he or anybody else had been pretty well； Miss Wade
asked him to what she was indebted for the honour of seeing him again？
Mr Meagles； in the meanwhile； glanced all round the room without
observing anything in the shape of a box。
'Why； the truth is； Miss Wade；' said Mr Meagles； in a fortable；
managing； not to say coaxing voice； 'it is possible that you may be able
to throw a light upon a little something that is at present dark。 Any
unpleasant bygones between us are bygones； I hope。 Can't be helped now。
You recollect my daughter？ Time changes so！ A mother！'
In his innocence； Mr Meagles could not have struck a worse key…note。 He
paused for any expression of interest； but paused in vain。
'That is not the subject you wished to enter on？' she said； after a cold
silence。
'No； no；' returned Mr Meagles。 'No。 I thought your good nature might……'
'I thought you knew；' she interrupted； with a smile； 'that my good
nature is not to be calculated upon？'
'Don't say so；' said Mr Meagles； 'you do yourself an injustice。 However；
to e to the point。' For he was sensible of having gained nothing
by approaching it in a roundabout way。 'I have heard from my friend
Clennam； who； you will be sorry to hear； has been and still is very
ill……'
He paused again； and again she was