‘“Tell him,”’ repeated John, in a distinct, though quavering voice, ‘“that his Little Dorrit sent him her undying love.” Now it’s delivered. Have I been honourable, sir?’

‘Very, very!’

‘Will you tell Miss Dorrit I’ve been honourable, sir?’

‘I will indeed.’

‘There’s my hand, sir,’ said john, ‘and I’ll stand by you forever!’

After a hearty squeeze, he disappeared with the same cautious creak upon the stair, crept shoeless over the pavement of the yard, and, locking the gates behind him, passed out into the front where he had left his shoes. If the same way had been paved with burning plough-shares, it is not at all improbable that John would have traversed it with the same devotion, for the same purpose.