Little Dorrit
have really nothing to thank me for. I hope you will always approve of
my proceedings after I have left home and that my sister also may long
remain the favoured object of your condescension, Mrs General.’
With this address, which was delivered in her politest manner, Fanny
left the room with an elegant and cheerful air--to tear up-stairs with
a flushed face as soon as she was out of hearing, pounce in upon her
sister, call her a little Dormouse, shake her for the better opening of
her eyes, tell her what had passed below, and ask her what she thought
of Pa now?
Towards Mrs Merdle, the young lady comported herself with great
independence and self-possession; but not as yet with any more decided
opening of hostilities. Occasionally they had a slight skirmish, as when
Fanny considered herself patted on the back by that lady, or as when Mrs
Merdle looked particularly young and well; but Mrs Merdle always soon
terminated those passages of arms by sinking among her cushions with the
gracefullest indifference, and finding her attention otherwise engaged.
Society (for that mysterious creature sat upon the Seven Hills too)
found Miss Fanny vastly improved by her engagement. She was much more
accessible, much more free and engaging, much less exacting; insomuch
that she now entertained a host of followers and admirers, to the bitter
indignation of ladies with daughters to marry, who were to be regarded
as Having revolted from Society on the Miss Dorrit grievance, and
erected a rebellious standard. Enjoying the flutter she caused. Miss
Dorrit not only haughtily moved through it in her own proper person, but
haughtily, even Ostentatiously, led Mr Sparkler through it too: seeming
to say to them all, ‘If I think proper to march among you in triumphal
procession attended by this weak captive in bonds, rather than a
stronger one, that is my business. Enough that I choose to do it!’ Mr
Sparkler for his part, questioned nothing; but went wherever he was
taken, did whatever he was told, felt that for his bride-elect to be
distinguished was for him to be distinguished on the easiest terms, and
was truly grateful for being so openly acknowledged.
The winter passing on towards the spring while this condition of affairs
prevailed, it became necessary for Mr Sparkler to repair to England, and
take his appointed part in the expression and direction of its genius,
learning, commerce, spirit, and sense. The land of Shakespeare, Milton,
Bacon, Newton, Watt, the land of a host of past and present abstract
philosophers, natural philosophers, and subduers of Nature and Art in
their myriad forms, called to Mr Sparkler to come and take care of it,
lest it should perish. Mr Sparkler, unable to resist the agonised cry
from the depths of his country’s soul, declared that he must go.
It followed that the question was rendered pressing when, where, and
how Mr Sparkler should be married to the foremost girl in all this world
with no nonsense about her. Its solution, after some little mystery and
secrecy, Miss Fanny herself announced to her sister.
‘Now, my child,’ said she, seeking her out one day, ‘I am going to tell
you something. It is only this moment broached; and naturally I hurry to
you the moment it _is_ broached.’
‘Your marriage, Fanny?’
‘My precious child,’ said Fanny, ‘don’t anticipate me. Let me impart my
confidence to you, you flurried little thing, in my own way. As to your
guess, if I answered it literally, I should answer no. For really it is
not my marriage that is in question, half as much as it is Edmund’s.’
Little Dorrit looked, and perhaps not altogether without cause, somewhat
at a loss to understand this fine distinction.
‘I am in no difficulty,’ exclaimed Fanny, ‘and in no hurry. I am not
wanted at any public office, or to give any vote anywhere else.
But Edmund is. And Edmund is deeply dejected at the idea of going away
by himself, and, indeed, I don’t like that he should be trusted by
himself. For, if it’s possible--and it generally is--to do a foolish
thing, he is sure to do it.’
As she concluded this impartial summary of the reliance that might be
safely placed upon her future husband, she took off, with an air of
business, the bonnet she wore, and dangled it by its strings upon the
ground.
‘It is far more Edmund’s question, therefore, than mine. However, we
need say no more about that. That is self-evident on the face of it.
Well, my dearest Amy! The point arising, is he to go by himself, or is
he not to go by himself, this other point arises, are we to be married
here and shortly, or are we to be married at home months hence?’
‘I see I am going to lose you, Fanny.’
‘What a little thing you are,’ cried Fanny, half tolerant and half
impatient, ‘for anticipating one! Pray, my darling, hear me out. That
woman,’ she spoke of Mrs Merdle, of course, ‘remains here until after
Easter; so, in the case of my being married here and going to London
with Edmund, I should have the start of her. That is something. Further,
Amy. That woman being out of the way, I don’t know that I greatly object
to Mr Merdle’s proposal to Pa that Edmund and I should take up our abode
in that house--_you_ know--where you once went with a dancer, my dear,
until our own house can be chosen and fitted up. Further still, Amy.
Papa having always intended to go to town himself, in the spring,--you
see, if Edmund and I were married here, we might go off to Florence,
where papa might join us, and we might all three travel home together.
Mr Merdle has entreated Pa to stay with him in that same mansion I have
mentioned, and I suppose he will. But he is master of his own actions;
and upon that point (which is not at all material) I can’t speak
positively.’
The difference between papa’s being master of his own actions and Mr
Sparkler’s being nothing of the sort, was forcibly expressed by Fanny in
her manner of stating the case. Not that her sister noticed it; for she
was divided between regret at the coming separation, and a lingering
wish that she had been included in the plans for visiting England.
‘And these are the arrangements, Fanny dear?’
‘Arrangements!’ repeated Fanny. ‘Now, really, child, you are a little
trying. You know I particularly guarded myself against laying my words
open to any such construction. What I said was, that certain questions
present themselves; and these are the questions.’
Little Dorrit’s thoughtful eyes met hers, tenderly and quietly.
‘Now, my own sweet girl,’ said Fanny, weighing her bonnet by the strings
with considerable impatience, ‘it’s no use staring. A little owl could
stare. I look to you for advice, Amy. What do you advise me to do?’
‘Do you think,’ asked Little Dorrit, persuasively, after a short
hesitation, ‘do you think, Fanny, that if you were to put it off for a
few months, it might be, considering all things, best?’
‘No, little Tortoise,’ retorted Fanny, with exceeding sharpness. ‘I
don’t think anything of the kind.’
Here, she threw her bonnet from her altogether, and flounced into a
chair. But, becoming affectionate almost immediately, she flounced out
of it again, and kneeled down on the floor to take her sister, chair and
all, in her arms.
‘Don’t suppose I am hasty or unkind, darling, because I really am not.
But you are such a little oddity! You make one bite your head off,
when one wants to be soothing beyond everything. Didn’t I tell you, you
dearest baby, that Edmund can’t be trusted by himself? And don’t you
know that he can’t?’
‘Yes, yes, Fanny. You said so, I know.’
‘And you know it, I know,’ retorted Fanny. ‘Well, my precious child! If
he is not to be trusted by himself, it follows, I suppose, that I should
go with him?’
‘It--seems so, love,’ said Little Dorrit.
‘Therefore, having heard the arrangements that are feasible to carry
out that object, am I to understand, dearest Amy, that on the whole you
advise me to make them?’
‘It--seems so, love,’ said Little Dorrit again.
‘Very well,’ cried Fanny with an air of resignation, ‘then I suppose it
must be done! I came to you, my sweet, the moment I saw the doubt, and
the necessity of deciding. I have now decided. So let it be.’
After yielding herself up, in this pattern manner, to sisterly advice
and the force of circumstances, Fanny became quite benignant: as one
who had laid her own inclinations at the feet of her dearest friend, and
felt a glow of conscience in having made the sacrifice. ‘After all, my
Amy,’ she said to her sister, ‘you are the best of small creatures, and
full of good sense; and I don’t know what I shall ever do without you!’
With which words she folded her in a closer embrace, and a really fond
one.
‘Not that I contemplate doing without You, Amy, by any means, for I hope
we shall ever be next to inseparable. And now, my pet, I am going
to give you a word of advice. When you are left alone here with Mrs
General--’
‘I am to be left alone here with Mrs General?’ said Little Dorrit,
quietly.
‘Why, of course, my precious, till papa comes back! Unless you call
Edward company, which he certainly is not, even when he is here, and
still more certainly is not when he is away at Naples or in Sicily. I
was going to say--but you are such a beloved little Marplot for putting
one out--when you are left alone here with Mrs General, Amy, don’t you
let her slide into any sort of artful understanding with you that she is
looking after Pa, or that Pa is looking after her. She will if she can.
I know her sly manner of feeling her way with those gloves of hers. But
don’t you comprehend her on any account. And if Pa should tell you when
he comes back, that he has it in contemplation to make Mrs General your
mama (which is not the less likely because I am going away), my advice
to you is, that you say at once, “Papa, I beg to object most strongly.
Fanny cautioned me about this, and she objected, and I object.” I don’t
mean to say that any objection from you, Amy, is likely to be of the
smallest effect, or that I think you likely to make it with any degree
of firmness. But there is a principle involved--a filial principle--and
I implore you not to submit to be mother-in-lawed by Mrs General,
without asserting it in making every one about you as uncomfortable as
possible. I don’t expect you to stand by it--indeed, I know you won’t,
Pa being concerned--but I wish to rouse you to a sense of duty. As to
any help from me, or as to any opposition that I can offer to such a
match, you shall not be left in the lurch, my love. Whatever weight
I may derive from my position as a married girl not wholly devoid of
attractions--used, as that position always shall be, to oppose that
woman--I will bring to bear, you May depend upon it, on the head and
false hair (for I am confident it’s not all real, ugly as it is and
unlikely as it appears that any One in their Senses would go to the
expense of buying it) of Mrs General!’
Little Dorrit received this counsel without venturing to oppose it but
without giving Fanny any reason to believe that she intended to act upon
it. Having now, as it were, formally wound up her single life and
arranged her worldly affairs, Fanny proceeded with characteristic ardour
to prepare for the serious change in her condition.
The preparation consisted in the despatch of her maid to Paris under the
protection of the Courier, for the purchase of that outfit for a bride
on which it would be extremely low, in the present narrative, to bestow
an English name, but to which (on a vulgar principle it observes
of adhering to the language in which it professes to be written) it
declines to give a French one. The rich and beautiful wardrobe purchased
by these agents, in the course of a few weeks made its way through the