e demanded. I have not prospered. What will you take now, and
what at another time, and how am I to be assured of your silence?'

'My angel,' said Rigaud, 'I have said what I will take, and time
presses. Before coming here, I placed copies of the most important of
these papers in another hand. Put off the time till the Marshalsea
gate shall be shut for the night, and it will be too late to treat. The
prisoner will have read them.'

She put her two hands to her head again, uttered a loud exclamation, and
started to her feet. She staggered for a moment, as if she would have
fallen; then stood firm.

'Say what you mean. Say what you mean, man!'

Before her ghostly figure, so long unused to its erect attitude, and so
stiffened in it, Rigaud fell back and dropped his voice. It was, to all
the three, almost as if a dead woman had risen.

'Miss Dorrit,' answered Rigaud, 'the little niece of Monsieur Frederick,
whom I have known across the water, is attached to the prisoner. Miss
Dorrit, little niece of Monsieur Frederick, watches at this moment over
the prisoner, who is ill. For her I with my own hands left a packet
at the prison, on my way here, with a letter of instructions, "FOR HIS
SAKE"--she will do anything for his sake--to keep it without breaking
the seal, in case of its being reclaimed before the hour of shutting up
to-night--if it should not be reclaimed before the ringing of the prison
bell, to give it to him; and it encloses a second copy for herself,
which he must give to her. What! I don't trust myself among you, now we
have got so far, without giving my secret a second life. And as to its
not bringing me, elsewhere, the price it will bring here, say then,
madame, have you limited and settled the price the little niece will
give--for his sake--to hush it up? Once more I say, time presses. The
packet not reclaimed before the ringing of the bell to-night, you cannot
buy. I sell, then, to the little girl!'

Once more the stir and struggle in her, and she ran to a closet, tore
the door open, took down a hood or shawl, and wrapped it over her head.
Affery, who had watched her in terror, darted to her in the middle of
the room, caught hold of her dress, and went on her knees to her.

'Don't, don't, don't! What are you doing? Where are you going? You're a
fearful woman, but I don't bear you no ill-will. I can do poor Arthur
no good now, that I see; and you needn't be afraid of me. I'll keep your
secret. Don't go