of Harmony; or the responsive acceptance, by
the united children, of some toast or sentiment offered to them by their
Father. Occasionally, a vocal strain more sonorous than the generality
informed the listener that some boastful bass was in blue water, or in
the hunting field, or with the reindeer, or on the mountain, or among
the heather; but the Marshal of the Marshalsea knew better, and had got
him hard and fast.

As Arthur Clennam moved to sit down by the side of Little Dorrit, she
trembled so that she had much ado to hold her needle. Clennam gently
put his hand upon her work, and said, 'Dear Little Dorrit, let me lay it
down.'

She yielded it to him, and he put it aside. Her hands were then
nervously clasping together, but he took one of them. 'How seldom I have
seen you lately, Little Dorrit!'

'I have been busy, sir.'

'But I heard only to-day,' said Clennam, 'by mere accident, of your
having been with those good people close by me. Why not come to me,
then?'

'I--I don't know. Or rather, I thought you might be busy too. You
generally are now, are you not?'

He saw her trembling little form and her downcast face, and the eyes
that drooped the moment they were raised to his--he saw them almost with
as much concern as tenderness.

'My child, your manner is so changed!'

The trembling was now quite beyond her control. Softly withdrawing her
hand, and laying it in her other hand, she sat before him with her head
bent and her whole form trembling.

'My own Little Dorrit,' said Clennam, compassionately.

She burst into tears. Maggy looked round of a sudden, and stared for at
least a minute; but did not interpose. Clennam waited some little while
before he spoke again.

'I cannot bear,' he said then, 'to see you weep; but I hope this is a
relief to an overcharged heart.'

'Yes it is, sir. Nothing but that.'

'Well, well! I feared you would think too much of what passed here just
now. It is of no moment; not the least. I am only unfortunate to have
come in the way. Let it go by with these tears. It is not worth one of
them. One of them? Such an idle thing should be repeated, with my glad
consent, fifty times a day, to save you a moment's heart-ache, Little
Dorrit.'

She had taken courage now, and answered, far more in her usual manner,
'You are so good! But even if there was nothing else in it to be sorry
for and ashamed of, it is such a bad return to you--'

'Hush!' said Clennam, smiling and touch