GoneOnahealthyautumnday，theMarshalseaprisoner，weakbutotherwiserestored，satlisteningtoavoicethatreadtohim。Onahealthyautumnday；whenthegoldenfieldshadbeenreapedandploughedagain，whenthesummerfruitshadripenedandwaned，whenthegreenperspectivesofhopshadbeenlaidlowbythebusypickers，whentheapplesclusteringintheorchardswererusset，andtheberriesofthemountainashwerecrimsonamongtheyellowingfoliage。Alreadyinthewoods，glimpsesofthehardywinterthatwascomingweretobecaughtthroughunaccustomedopeningsamongtheboughswheretheprospectshonedefinedandclear，freefromthebloomofthedrowsysummerweather，whichhadrestedonitasthebloomliesontheplum。So，fromtheseashoretheoceanwasnolongertobeseenlyingasleepintheheat，butitsthousandsparklingeyeswereopen，anditswholebreadthwasinjoyfulanimation，fromthecoolsandonthebeachtothelittlesailsonthehorizon，driftingawaylikeautumn-tintedleavesthathaddriftedfromthetrees。
Changelessandbarren，lookingignorantlyatalltheseasonswithitsfixed，pinchedfaceofpovertyandcare，theprisonhadnotatouchofanyofthesebeautiesonit。Blossomwhatwould，itsbricksandbarsboreuniformlythesamedeadcrop。YetClennam，listeningtothevoiceasitreadtohim，heardinitallthatgreatNaturewasdoing，heardinitallthesoothingsongsshesingstoman。AtnoMother’skneebuthershadheeverdweltinhisyouthonhopefulpromises，onplayfulfancies，ontheharvestsoftendernessandhumilitythatliehiddenintheearly-fosteredseedsoftheimagination；ontheoaksofretreatfromblightingwinds，thathavethegermsoftheirstrongrootsinnurseryacorns。
But，inthetonesofthevoicethatreadtohim，therewerememoriesofanoldfeelingofsuchthings，andechoesofeverymercifulandlovingwhisperthathadeverstolentohiminhislife。
Whenthevoicestopped，heputhishandoverhiseyes，murmuringthatthelightwasstronguponthem。
LittleDorritputthebookby，andpresentlyarosequietlytoshadethewindow。Maggysatatherneedleworkinheroldplace。Thelightsoftened，LittleDorritbroughtherchairclosertohisside。