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sort of ill…adjusted alarum。 The touch was still upon his arm。 He fell
silent； and after looking about the ceiling again for a little while；
looked down at her。 Her head drooped； and he could not see her face； but
her touch was tender and quiet； and in the expression of her dejected
figure there was no blame……nothing but love。 He began to whimper； just
as he had done that night in the prison when she afterwards sat at
his bedside till morning； exclaimed that he was a poor ruin and a poor
wretch in the midst of his wealth； and clasped her in his arms。 'Hush；
hush； my own dear！ Kiss me！' was all she said to him。 His tears
were soon dried； much sooner than on the former occasion； and he was
presently afterwards very high with his valet； as a way of righting
himself for having shed any。
With one remarkable exception； to be recorded in its place； this was
the only time； in his life of freedom and fortune； when he spoke to his
daughter Amy of the old days。
But； now； the breakfast hour arrived； and with it Miss Fanny from her
apartment； and Mr Edward from his apartment。 Both these young persons of
distinction were something the worse for late hours。 As to Miss Fanny；
she had bee the victim of an insatiate mania for what she called
'going into society；'and would have gone into it head…foremost fifty
times between sunset and sunrise； if so many opportunities had been at
her disposal。 As to Mr Edward； he； too； had a large acquaintance； and
was generally engaged （for the most part； in diceing circles； or others
of a kindred nature）； during the greater part of every night。 For this
gentleman； when his fortunes changed； had stood at the great advantage
of being already prepared for the highest associates； and having little
to learn： so much was he indebted to the happy accidents which had made
him acquainted with horse…dealing and billiard…marking。
At breakfast； Mr Frederick Dorrit likewise appeared。 As the old
gentleman inhabited the highest story of the palace； where he might have
practised pistol…shooting without much chance of discovery by the other
inmates； his younger niece had taken courage to propose the restoration
to him of his clario； which Mr Dorrit had ordered to be confiscated；
but which she had ventured to preserve。 Notwithstanding some objections
from Miss Fanny； that it was a low instrument； and that she detested the
sound of it； the concession had been made。 But it was then discovered
that he had had enough of it； and never played it； now that it was no
longer his means of getting bread。 He had insensibly acquired a new
habit of shuffling into the picture…galleries； always with his twisted
paper of snuff in his hand （much to the indignation of Miss Fanny； who
had proposed the purchase of a gold box for him that the family might
not be discredited； which he had absolutely refused to carry when it was
bought）； and of passing hours and hours before the portraits of renowned
Veians。 It was never made out what his dazed eyes saw in them；
whether he had an interest in them merely as pictures； or whether he
confusedly identified them with a glory that was departed； like the
strength of his own mind。 But he paid his court to them with great
exactness； and clearly derived pleasure from the pursuit。 After the
first few days； Little Dorrit happened one morning to assist at these
attentions。 It so evidently heightened his gratification that she often
acpanied him afterwards； and the greatest delight of which the old
man had shown himself susceptible since his ruin； arose out of these
excursions； when he would carry a chair about for her from picture
to picture； and stand behind it； in spite of all her remonstrances；
silently presenting her to the noble Veians。
It fell out that； at this family breakfast； he referred to their having
seen in a gallery； on the previous day； the lady and gentleman whom they
had encountered on the Great Saint Bernard； 'I forget the name；' said
he。 'I dare say you remember them； William？
I dare say you do； Edward？'
'_I_ remember 'em well enough；' said the latter。
'I should think so；' observed Miss Fanny； with a toss of her head and
a glance at her sister。 'But they would not have been recalled to our
remembrance； I suspect； if Uncle hadn't tumbled over the subject。'
'My dear； what a curious phrase；' said Mrs General。 'Would not
inadvertently lighted upon； or accidentally referred to； be better？'
'Thank you very much； Mrs General；' returned the young lady； 'no； I
think not。 On the whole I prefer my own expression。' This was always
Miss Fanny's way of receiving a suggestion from Mrs General。 But she
always stored it up in her mind； and adopted it at another time。
'I should have mentioned our having met Mr and Mrs Gowan； Fanny；' said
Little Dorrit； 'even if Uncle had not。 I have scarcely seen you since；
you know。 I meant to have spoken of it at breakfast； because I should
like to pay a visit to Mrs Gowan； and to bee better acquainted with
her； if Papa and Mrs General do not object。'
'Well； Amy；' said Fanny； 'I am sure I am glad to find you at last
expressing a wish to bee better acquainted with anybody in Venice。
Though whether Mr and Mrs Goains to
be determined。'
'Mrs Gowan I spoke of； dear。'
'No doubt；' said Fanny。 'But you can't separate her from her husband； I
believe； without an Act of Parliament。'
'Do you think； Papa；' inquired Little Dorrit； with diffidence and
hesitation； 'there is any objection to my making this visit？'
'Really；' he replied； 'I……ha……what is Mrs General's view？'
Mrs General's view was； that not having the honour of any acquaintance
with the lady and gentleman referred to； she was not in a position
to varnish the present article。 She could only remark； as a general
principle observed in the varnishing trade； that much depended on the
quarter from which the lady under consideration was accredited to a
family so conspicuously niched in the social temple as the family of
Dorrit。
At this remark the face of Mr Dorrit gloomed considerably。 He was about
（connecting the accrediting with an obtrusive person of the name
of Clennam； whom he imperfectly remembered in some