When Mrs Flintwinch dreamed, she usually dreamed, unlike the son of her
old mistress, with her eyes shut. She had a curiously vivid dream that
night, and before she had left the son of her old mistress many hours.
In fact it was not at all like a dream; it was so very real in every
respect. It happened in this wise.
The bed-chamber occupied by Mr and Mrs Flintwinch was within a few paces
of that to which Mrs Clennam had been so long confined. It was not on
the same floor, for it was a room at the side of the house, which was
approached by a steep descent of a few odd steps, diverging from the
main staircase nearly opposite to Mrs Clennam's door. It could scarcely
be said to be within call, the walls, doors, and panelling of the old
place were so cumbrous; but it was within easy reach, in any undress,
at any hour of the night, in any temperature. At the head of the bed
and within a foot of Mrs Flintwinch's ear, was a bell, the line of which
hung ready to Mrs Clennam's hand. Whenever this bell rang, up started
Affery, and was in the sick room before she was awake.
Having got her mistress into bed, lighted her lamp, and given her good
night, Mrs Flintwinch went to roost as usual, saving that her lord had
not yet appeared. It was her lord himself who became--unlike the
last theme in the mind, according to the observation of most
philosophers--the subject of Mrs Flintwinch's dream. It seemed to her
that she awoke after sleeping some hours, and found Jeremiah not yet
abed. That she looked at the candle she had left burning, and, measuring
the time like King Alfred the Great, was confirmed by its wasted state
in her belief that she had been asleep for some considerable period.
That she arose thereupon, muffled herself up in a wrapper, put on
her shoes, and went out on the staircase, much surprised, to look for
Jeremiah. The staircase was as wooden and solid as need be, and Affery went
straight down it without any of those deviations peculiar to dreams.
She did not skim over it, but walked down it, and guided herself by the
banisters on account of her candle having died out. In one corner of
the hall, behind the house-door, there was a little waiting-room, like a
well-shaft, with a long narrow window in it as if it had been ripped up.
In this room, which was never used, a light was burning.
Mrs Flintwinch crossed the hall, feeling its pavement cold to her
stockingless feet, and peeped in between the rusty hinges on the door,
which stood a little open. She expected to see Jeremiah fast asleep or
in a fit, but he was calmly seated in a chair, awake, and in his usual
health. But what--hey?--Lord forgive us!--Mrs Flintwinch muttered some
ejaculation to this effect, and turned giddy.