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placently answer。
'But look here；' quoth the turnkey。 'Supposing she had； say a brother；
say a father； say a husband； who would be likely to make a grab at that
property when she came into it……how about that？'
'It would be settled on herself； and they would have no more legal claim
on it than you；' would be the professional answer。
'Stop a bit；' said the turnkey。 'Supposing she was tender…hearted； and
they came over her。 Where's your law for tying it up then？'
The deepest character whom the turnkey sounded； was unable to produce
his law for tying such a knot as that。 So； the turnkey thought about it
all his life； and died intestate after all。
But that was long afterwards； when his god…daughter was past sixteen。
The first half of that space of her life was only just acplished；
when her pitiful and plaintive look saw her father a widower。 From that
time the protection that her wondering eyes had expressed towards him；
became embodied in action； and the Child of the Marshalsea took upon
herself a new relation towards the Father。
At first； such a baby could do little more than sit with him； deserting
her livelier place by the high fender； and quietly watching him。 But
this made her so far necessary to him that he became accustomed to her；
and began to be sensible of missing her when she was not there。 Through
this little gate； she passed out of childhood into the care…laden world。
What her pitiful look saw； at that early time； in her father； in her
sister； in her brother； in the jail； how much； or how little of the
wretched truth it pleased God to make visible to her； lies hidden with
many mysteries。 It is enough that she was inspired to be something which
was not what the rest were； and to be that something； different and
laborious； for the sake of the rest。 Inspired？ Yes。 Shall we speak of
the inspiration of a poet or a priest； and not of the heart impelled by
love and self…devotion to the lowliest work in the lowliest way of life！
With no earthly friend to help her； or so much as to see her； but the
one so strangely assorted； with no knowledge even of the mon daily
tone and habits of the mon members of the free munity who are not
shut up in prisons； born and bred in a social condition； false even with
a reference to the falsest condition outside the walls； drinking from
infancy of a well whose waters had their own peculiar stain； their own
unwholesome and unnatural taste； the Child of the Marshalsea began her
womanly life。
No matter through what mistakes and discouragements； what ridicule （not
unkindly meant； but deeply felt） of her youth and little figure； what
humble consciousness of her own babyhood and want of strength； even
in the matter of lifting and carrying； through how much weariness
and hopelessness； and how many secret tears； she drudged on； until
recognised as useful； even indispensable。 That time came。 She took the
place of eldest of the three； in all things but precedence； was the
head of the fallen family； and bore； in her own heart； its anxieties and
shames。
At thirteen； she could read and keep accounts； that is； could put down
in words and figures how much the bare necessaries that they wanted
would cost； and how much less they had to buy them with。 She had been；
by snatches of a few weeks at a time； to an evening school outside；
and got her sister and brother sent to day…schools by desultory starts；
during three or four years。 There was no instruction for any of them at
home； but she knew well……no one better……that a man so broken as to be
the Father of the Marshalsea； could be no father to his own children。
To these scanty means of improvement； she added another of her own
contriving。 Once； among the heterogeneous crowd of inmates there
appeared a dancing…master。 Her sister had a great desire to learn the
dancing…master's art； and seemed to have a taste that way。 At thirteen
years old； the Child of the Marshalsea presented herself to the
dancing…master； with a little bag in her hand； and preferred her humble
petition。
'If you please； I was born here； sir。'
'Oh！ You are the young lady； are you？' said the dancing…master；
surveying the small figure and uplifted face。
'Yes； sir。'
'And what can I do for you？' said the dancing…master。
'Nothing for me； sir； thank you；' anxiously undrawing the strings of
the little bag； 'but if； while you stay here； you could be so kind as to
teach my sister cheap……'
'My child； I'll teach her for nothing；' said the dancing…master；
shutting up the bag。 He was as good…natured a dancing…master as ever
danced to the Insolvent Court； and he kept his word。 The sister was so
apt a pupil； and the dancing…master had such abundant leisure to bestow
upon her （for it took him a matter of ten weeks to set to his creditors；
lead off； turn the missioners； and right and left back to his
professional pursuits）； that wonderful progress was made。 Indeed the
dancing…master was so proud of it； and so wishful to display it before
he left to a few select friends among the collegians； that at six
o'clock on a certain fine morning； a minuet de la cour came off in
the yard……the college…rooms being of too confined proportions for the
purpose……in which so much ground was covered； and the steps were so
conscientiously executed； that the dancing…master； having to play the
kit besides； was thoroughly blown。
The success of this beginning； which led to the dancing…master's
continuing his instruction after his release； emboldened the poor child
to try again。 She watched and waited months for a seamstress。 In the
fulness of time a milliner came in； and to her she repaired on her own
behalf。
'I beg your pardon； ma'am；' she said； looking timidly round the door of
the milliner； whom she found in tears and in bed： 'but I was born here。'
Everybody seemed to hear of her as soon as they arrived； for the
milliner sat up in bed； drying her eyes； and said； just as the
dancing…master had said：
'Oh！ You are the child； are you？'
'Yes； ma'am。'
'I am sorry I haven't got anything for you；' said the milliner； shaking
her head。
'It's not that； ma'am。 If you please I want to learn needle…work。'
'Why should you do that；' returned the milliner； 'with me before you？ It
has not done me much good。'
'Nothing……whatever it is……seems to have done anybody much good who es
here；' she returned in all simplicity； 'but I want to learn just the
same。'
'I am afraid you are so weak； you see；' the milliner objected。
'I don't think I am weak； ma'am。'
'And you are so very； very little； you see；' the milliner objected。
'Yes； I am afraid I am very little indeed；' returned the Child of the
Marshalsea； and so began to sob over that unfortunate defect of hers；
which came so often in her way。 The milliner……who was not morose or
hard…hearted； only newly insolvent……was touched； took her in hand with
goodwill； found her the most patient and earnest of pupils； and made her
a cunning work…woman in course of time。
In course of time； and in the very self…same course of time； the Father
of the Marshalsea gradually developed a new flower of character。 The
more Fatherly he grew as to the Marshalsea； and the more dependent he
became on the contributions of his changing family； the greater stand
he made by his forlorn gentility。 With the same hand that he pocketed
a collegian's half…crown half an hour ago； he would wipe away the
tears that streamed over his cheeks if any reference were made to his
daughters' earning their bread。 So； over and above other daily cares；
the Child of the Marshalsea had always upon her the care of preserving
the genteel fiction that they were all idle beggars together。
The sister became a dancer。 There was a ruined uncle in the family
group……ruined by his brother； the Father of the Marshalsea； and knowing
no more how than his ruiner did； but accepting the fact as an inevitable
certainty……on whom her protection devolved。 Naturally a retired and
simple man； he had shown no particular sense of being ruined at the time
when that calamity fell upon him； further than that he left off washing
himself when the shock was announced； and never took to that luxury any
more。 H