He told the worthy Mrs Chivery, after turning these things over in his
mind--he did that, indeed, while she was yet speaking--that he might be
relied upon to do his utmost at all times to promote the happiness of
Miss Dorrit, and to further the wishes of her heart if it were in his
power to do so, and if he could discover what they were. At the same
time he cautioned her against assumptions and appearances; enjoined
strict silence and secrecy, lest Miss Dorrit should be made unhappy; and
particularly advised her to endeavour to win her son's confidence and so
to make quite sure of the state of the case. Mrs Chivery considered the
latter precaution superfluous, but said she would try. She shook her
head as if she had not derived all the comfort she had fondly expected
from this interview, but thanked him nevertheless for the trouble he had
kindly taken. They then parted good friends, and Arthur walked away.
The crowd in the street jostling the crowd in his mind, and the two
crowds making a confusion, he avoided London Bridge, and turned off in
the quieter direction of the Iron Bridge. He had scarcely set foot upon
it, when he saw Little Dorrit walking on before him. It was a pleasant
day, with a light breeze blowing, and she seemed to have that minute
come there for air. He had left her in her father's room within an hour.
It was a timely chance, favourable to his wish of observing her face
and manner when no one else was by. He quickened his pace; but before he
reached her, she turned her head. 'Have I startled you?' he asked. 'I thought I knew the step,' she answered, hesitating. 'And did you know it, Little Dorrit? You could hardly have expected
mine.' 'I did not expect any. But when I heard a step, I thought it--sounded
like yours.' 'Are you going further?'
'No, sir, I am only walking her for a little change.'
They walked together, and she recovered her confiding manner with him,
and looked up in his face as she said, after glancing around: 'It is so strange.
Perhaps you can hardly understand it. I sometimes
have a sensation as if it was almost unfeeling to walk here.'
'Unfeeling?' 'To see the river, and so much sky, and so many objects, and such change
and motion. Then to go back, you know, and find him in the same cramped
place.' 'Ah yes! But going back, you must remember that you take with you the
spirit and influence of such things to cheer him.'