in his manner. These were the ceremonies with which he received
the collegians.

'You are welcome to the Marshalsea, sir. I have welcomed many
gentlemen to these walls. Perhaps you are aware--my daughter Amy
may have mentioned that I am the Father of this place.'

'I--so I have understood,' said Arthur, dashing at the assertion.

'You know, I dare say, that my daughter Amy was born here. A good
girl, sir, a dear girl, and long a comfort and support to me. Amy,
my dear, put this dish on; Mr Clennam will excuse the primitive
customs to which we are reduced here. Is it a compliment to ask
you if you would do me the honour, sir, to--'

'Thank you,' returned Arthur. 'Not a morsel.'

He felt himself quite lost in wonder at the manner of the man, and
that the probability of his daughter's having had a reserve as to
her family history, should be so far out of his mind.

She filled his glass, put all the little matters on the table ready
to his hand, and then sat beside him while he ate his supper.
Evidently in observance of their nightly custom, she put some bread
before herself, and touched his glass with her lips; but Arthur saw
she was troubled and took nothing. Her look at her father, half
admiring him and proud of him, half ashamed for him, all devoted
and loving, went to his inmost heart.

The Father of the Marshalsea condescended towards his brother as an