t silent, Little Dorrit was not without a
lover. Years ago young John Chivery, the sentimental son of the turnkey,
had eyed her with admiring wonder. There seemed to young John a fitness
in the attachment. She, the Child of the Marshalsea; he, the
lock-keeper. Every Sunday young John presented cigars to the Father of
the Marshalsea--who was glad to get them--and one particular Sunday
afternoon he mustered up courage to urge his suit.

Little Dorrit was out, walking on the Iron Bridge, when young John found
her.

"Miss Amy," he stammered, "I have had for a long time--ages they seem to
me--a heart-cherished wish to say something to you. May I say it? May I,
Miss Amy? I but ask the question humbly--may I say it? I know very well
your family is far above mine. It were vain to conceal it. I know very
well that your high-souled brother, and likewise your spirited sister,
spurn me from a height."

"If you please, John Chivery," Little Dorrit answered, in a quiet way,
"since you are so considerate as to ask me whether you shall say any
more--if you please, no."

"Never, Miss Amy?"

"No, if you please. Never."

"Oh, Lord!" gasped young John.

"When you think of us, John--I mean, my brother and sister and me--don't
think of us as being any different from the rest; for whatever we once
were we ceased to be long ago, and never can be any more. And, good-bye,
John. And I hope you will have a good wife one day, and be a happy man.
I am sure you will deserve to be happy, and you will be, John."

"Good-bye, Miss Amy. Good-bye!"

_III.--The Marshalsea Becomes an Orphan_

It turned out that Mr. Dorrit, being of the Dorrits of Dorsetshire, was
heir-at-law to a great fortune. Inquiries and investigations confirmed
it.

Arthur Clennam broke the news to Little Dorrit, and together they went
to the, Marshalsea. William Dorrit was sitting in his old grey gown and
his old black cap in the sunlight by the window when they entered.
"Father, Mr. Clennam has brought me such joyful and wonderful
intelligence about you!"

Her agitation was great, and the old man put his hand suddenly to his
heart, and looked at Clennam.

"Tell me, Mr. Dorrit, what surprise would be the most unlocked for and
the most acceptable to you. Do not be afraid to imagine it, or to say
what it would be."

He looked steadfastly at Clennam, and, so looking at him, seemed to
change into a very old, haggard man. The sun was bright upon the wall
beyond the w