re, he gave them 'Mr
Chivery and his brother officers;' whom he had beforehand presented with
ten pounds each, and who were all in attendance. Mr Chivery spoke to the
toast, saying, What you undertake to lock up, lock up; but remember that
you are, in the words of the fettered African, a man and a brother ever.
The list of toasts disposed of, Mr Dorrit urbanely went through the
motions of playing a game of skittles with the Collegian who was the
next oldest inhabitant to himself; and left the tenantry to their
diversions.

But all these occurrences preceded the final day. And now the day
arrived when he and his family were to leave the prison for ever, and
when the stones of its much-trodden pavement were to know them no more.

Noon was the hour appointed for the departure. As it approached, there
was not a Collegian within doors, nor a turnkey absent. The latter class
of gentlemen appeared in their Sunday clothes, and the greater part of
the Collegians were brightened up as much as circumstances allowed. Two
or three flags were even displayed, and the children put on odds and
ends of ribbon. Mr Dorrit himself, at this trying time, preserved a
serious but graceful dignity. Much of his great attention was given to
his brother, as to whose bearing on the great occasion he felt anxious.

'My dear Frederick,' said he, 'if you will give me your arm we will pass
among our friends together. I think it is right that we should go out
arm in arm, my dear Frederick.'

'Hah!' said Frederick. 'Yes, yes, yes, yes.'

'And if, my dear Frederick--if you could, without putting any great
constraint upon yourself, throw a little (pray excuse me, Frederick), a
little Polish into your usual demeanour--'

'William, William,' said the other, shaking his head, 'it's for you to
do all that. I don't know how. All forgotten, forgotten!'

'But, my dear fellow,' returned William, 'for that very reason, if
for no other, you must positively try to rouse yourself. What you
have forgotten you must now begin to recall, my dear Frederick. Your
position--'

'Eh?' said Frederick.

'Your position, my dear Frederick.'

'Mine?' He looked first at his own figure, and then at his brother's,
and then, drawing a long breath, cried, 'Hah, to be sure! Yes, yes,
yes.' 'Your position, my dear Frederick, is now a fine one. Your
position, as my brother, is a very fine one. And I know that it belongs
to your conscientious nature to try to become worthy of it,