Чарльз Диккенс - The Battle of Life. A Love Story стр 8.

Thats the thimble, is it, young woman? said Mr. Snitchey, diverting himself at her expense. And what does the thimble say?

It says, replied Clemency, reading slowly round it as if it were a tower, For-get and for-give.

Snitchey and Craggs laughed heartily. So new! said Snitchey. So easy! said Craggs. Such a knowledge of human nature in it, said Snitchey. So applicable to the affairs of life, said Craggs.

And the nutmeg-grater? inquired the head of the Firm.

The grater says, returned Clemency, Do as you wold be done by.

Do, or youll be done brown, you mean, said Mr. Snitchey.

I dont understand, retorted Clemency, shaking her head vaguely. I ant no lawyer.

I am afraid that if she was, Doctor, said Mr. Snitchey, turning to him suddenly, as if to anticipate any effect that might otherwise be consequent on this retort, shed find it to be the golden rule of half her clients. They are serious enough in that whimsical as your world is and lay the blame on us afterwards. We, in our profession, are little else than mirrors after all, Mr. Alfred; but we are generally consulted by angry and quarrelsome people, who are not in their best looks; and its rather hard to quarrel with us if we reflect unpleasant aspects. I think, said Mr. Snitchey, that I speak for Self and Craggs?

Decidedly, said Craggs.

And so, if Mr. Britain will oblige us with a mouthful of ink, said Mr. Snitchey, returning to the papers, well sign, seal, and deliver as soon as possible, or the coach will be coming past before we know where we are.

If one might judge from his appearance, there was every probability of the coach coming past before Mr. Britain knew where he was; for he stood in a state of abstraction, mentally balancing the Doctor against the lawyers, and the lawyers against the Doctor, and their clients against both; and engaged in feeble attempts to make the thimble and nutmeg-grater (a new idea to him) square with anybodys system of philosophy; and, in short, bewildering himself as much as ever his great namesake has done with theories and schools. But Clemency, who was his good Genius though he had the meanest possible opinion of her understanding, by reason of her seldom troubling herself with abstract speculations, and being always at hand to do the right thing at the right time having produced the ink in a twinkling, tendered him the further service of recalling him to himself by the application of her elbows; with which gentle flappers she so jogged his memory, in a more literal construction of that phrase than usual, that he soon became quite fresh and brisk.

How he labored under an apprehension not uncommon to persons in his degree, to whom the use of pen and ink is an event, that

he couldnt append his name to a document, not of his own writing, without committing himself in some shadowy manner, or somehow signing away vague and enormous sums of money; and how he approached the deeds under protest, and by dint of the Doctors coercion, and insisted on pausing to look at them before writing (the cramped hand, to say nothing of the phraseology, being so much Chinese to him), and also on turning them round to see whether there was anything fraudulent, underneath; and how, having signed his name, he became desolate as one who had parted with his property and rights; I want the time to tell. Also, how the blue bag containing his signature, afterwards had a mysterious interest for him, and he couldnt leave it; also, how Clemency Newcome, in an ecstasy of laughter at the idea of her own importance and dignity, brooded over the whole table with her two elbows like a spread eagle, and reposed her head upon her left arm as a preliminary to the formation of certain cabalistic characters, which required a deal of ink, and imaginary counterparts whereof she executed at the same time with her tongue. Also how, having once tasted ink, she became thirsty in that regard, as tigers are said to be after tasting another sort of fluid, and wanted to sign everything, and put her name in all kinds of places. In brief, the Doctor was discharged of his trust and all its responsibilities; and Alfred, taking it on himself, was fairly started on the journey of life.

Britain! said the Doctor. Run to the gate, and watch for the coach. Time flies, Alfred!

Yes, Sir, yes, returned the young man, hurriedly. Dear Grace! a moment! Marion so young and beautiful, so winning and so much admired, dear to my heart as nothing else in life is remember! I leave Marion to you!

She has always been a sacred charge to me, Alfred. She is doubly so now. I will be faithful to my trust, believe me.

I do believe it, Grace. I know it well. Who could look upon your face, and hear your earnest voice, and not know it! Ah, good Grace! If I had your well-governed heart, and tranquil mind, how bravely I would leave this place to-day!

Would you? she answered, with a quiet smile.

And yet, Grace Sister, seems the natural word.

Use it! she said quickly, I am glad to hear it, call me nothing else.