Iam
better
by
myself
.
”
If
I
was
to
be
put
upon
my
oath
to-morrow
,
Lucretia
,
before
a
magistrate
,
´
said
Mrs.
Chick
,
`
I
have
no
doubt
I
could
venture
to
swear
to
those
identical
words
.
´
Miss
Tox
expressed
her
admiration
by
saying
,
`
My
Louisa
is
ever
methodical
!
´
`
In
short
,
Florence
,
´
resumed
her
aunt
,
`
literally
nothing
has
passed
between
your
poor
Papa
and
myself
,
until
to-day
;
when
I
mentioned
to
your
Papa
that
Sir
Barnet
and
Lady
Skettles
had
written
exceedingly
kind
notes
—
our
sweet
boy
!
Lady
Skettles
loved
him
like
a
—
where
's
my
pocket
handkerchief
?
´
Miss
Tox
produced
one
.
`
Exceedingly
kind
notes
,
proposing
that
you
should
visit
them
for
change
of
scene
.
Mentioning
to
your
Papa
that
I
thought
Miss
Tox
and
myself
might
now
go
home
(
in
which
he
quite
agreed
)
,
I
inquired
if
he
had
any
objection
to
your
accepting
this
invitation
.
He
said
,
“
No
,
Louisa
,
not
the
least
!
”
´
Florence
raised
her
tearful
eyes
.
`
At
the
same
time
,
if
you
would
prefer
staying
here
,
Florence
,
to
paying
this
visit
at
present
,
or
to
going
home
with
me
—
´
`
I
should
much
prefer
it
,
aunt
,
´
was
the
faint
rejoinder
.
`
Why
then
,
child
,
´
said
Mrs.
Chick
,
`
you
can
.
It
's
a
strange
choice
,
I
must
say
.
But
you
always
were
strange
.
Anybody
else
at
your
time
of
life
,
and
after
what
has
passed
—
my
dear
Miss
Tox
,
I
have
lost
my
pocket
handkerchief
again
—
would
be
glad
to
leave
here
,
one
would
suppose
.
´
`
I
should
not
life
to
feel
,
´
said
Florence
,
`
as
if
the
house
was
avoided
.
I
should
not
like
to
think
that
the
—
his
—
the
rooms
up
stairs
were
quite
empty
and
dreary
,
aunt
.
I
would
rather
stay
here
,
for
the
present
.
Oh
my
brother
!
oh
my
brother
!
´
It
was
a
natural
emotion
,
not
to
be
suppressed
;
and
it
would
make
way
even
between
the
fingers
of
the
hands
with
which
she
covered
up
her
face
.
The
overcharged
and
heavy-laden
breast
must
sometimes
have
that
vent
,
or
the
poor
wounded
solitary
heart
within
it
would
have
fluttered
like
a
bird
with
broken
wings
,
and
sunk
down
in
the
dust
.
`
Well
,
child
!
´
said
Mrs.
Chick
,
after
a
pause
.
`
I
would
n't
on
any
account
say
anything
unkind
to
you
,
and
that
I
'm
sure
you
know
.
You
will
remain
here
,
then
,
and
do
exactly
as
you
like
.
No
one
will
interfere
with
you
,
Florence
,
or
wish
to
interfere
with
you
,
I
'm
sure
.
´
Florence
shook
her
head
in
sad
assent
.
`
I
had
no
sooner
begun
to
advise
your
poor
Papa
that
he
really
ought
to
seek
some
distraction
and
restoration
in
a
temporary
change
,
´
said
Mrs.
Chick
,
`
than
he
told
me
he
had
already
formed
the
intention
of
going
into
the
country
for
a
short
time
.
I
'm
sure
I
hope
he
'll
go
very
soon
.
He
ca
n't
go
too
soon
.
But
I
suppose
there
are
some
arrangements
connected
with
his
private
papers
and
so
forth
,
consequent
on
the
affliction
that
has
tried
us
all
so
much
—
I
ca
n't
think
what
's
become
of
mine
:
Lucretia
,
lend
me
yours
,
my
dear
—
that
may
occupy
him
for
one
or
two
evenings
in
his
own
room
.
Your
papa
's
a
Dombey
,
child
,
if
ever
there
was
one
,
´
said
Mrs.
Chick
,
drying
both
her
eyes
at
once
with
great
care
on
opposite
corners
of
Miss
Tox
's
handkerchief
.
`
He
'll
make
an
effort
.
There
's
no
fear
of
him
.
´
`
Is
there
nothing
,
aunt
,
´
said
Florence
,
trembling
,
`
I
might
do
to
—
´
`
Lord
,
my
dear
child
,
´
interposed
Mrs.
Chick
,
hastily
,
`
what
are
you
talking
about
?
If
your
Papa
said
to
Me
—
I
have
given
you
his
exact
words
,
“
Louisa
,
I
want
nothing
;
I
am
better
by
myself
”
—
what
do
you
think
he
'd
say
to
you
?
You
must
n't
show
yourself
to
him
,
child
.
Do
n't
dream
of
such
a
thing
.
´
`
Aunt
,
´
said
Florence
,
`
I
will
go
and
lie
down
on
my
bed
.
´
Mrs.
Chick
approved
of
this
resolution
,
and
dismissed
her
with
a
kiss
.
But
Miss
Tox
,
on
a
faint
pretence
of
looking
for
the
mislaid
handkerchief
,
went
upstairs
after
her
;
and
tried
in
a
few
stolen
minutes
to
comfort
her
,
in
spite
of
great
discouragement
from
Susan
Nipper
.
For
Miss
Nipper
,
in
her
burning
zeal
,
disparaged
Miss
Tox
as
a
crocodile
;
yet
her
sympathy
seemed
genuine
,
and
had
at
least
the
vantage-ground
of
disinterestedness
—
there
was
little
favour
to
be
won
by
it
.
And
was
there
no
one
nearer
and
dearer
than
Susan
,
to
uphold
the
striving
heart
in
its
anguish
?
Was
there
no
other
neck
to
clasp
;
no
other
face
to
turn
to
?
no
one
else
to
say
a
soothing
word
to
such
deep
sorrow
?
Was
Florence
so
alone
in
the
bleak
world
that
nothing
else
remained
to
her
?
Nothing
.
Stricken
motherless
and
brotherless
at
once
—
for
in
the
loss
of
little
Paul
,
that
first
and
greatest
loss
fell
heavily
upon
her
—
this
was
the
only
help
she
had
.
Oh
,
who
can
tell
how
much
she
needed
help
at
first
!
At
first
,
when
the
house
subsided
into
its
accustomed
course
,
and
they
had
all
gone
away
,
except
the
servants
,
and
her
father
shut
up
in
his
own
rooms
,
Florence
could
do
nothing
but
weep
,
and
wander
up
and
down
,
and
sometimes
,
in
a
sudden
pang
of
desolate
remembrance
,
fly
to
her
own
chamber
,
wring
her
hands
,
lay
her
face
down
on
her
bed
,
and
know
no
consolation
:
nothing
but
the
bitterness
and
cruelty
of
grief
.
This
commonly
ensued
upon
the
recognition
of
some
spot
or
object
very
tenderly
associated
with
him
;
and
it
made
the
miserable
house
,
at
first
,
a
place
of
agony
.
But
it
is
not
in
the
nature
of
pure
love
to
burn
so
fiercely
and
unkindly
long
.
The
flame
that
in
its
grosser
composition
has
the
taint
of
earth
,
may
prey
upon
the
breast
that
gives
it
shelter
;
but
the
sacred
fire
from
heaven
is
as
gentle
in
the
heart
,
as
when
it
rested
on
the
heads
of
the
assembled
twelve
,
and
showed
each
man
his
brother
,
brightened
and
unhurt
.
The
image
conjured
up
,
there
soon
returned
the
placid
face
,
the
softened
voice
,
the
loving
looks
,
the
quiet
trustfulness
and
peace
;
and
Florence
,
though
she
wept
still
,
wept
more
tranquilly
,
and
courted
the
remembrance
.
It
was
not
very
long
before
the
golden
water
,
dancing
on
the
wall
,
in
the
old
place
,
at
the
old
serene
time
,
had
her
calm
eye
fixed
upon
it
as
it
ebbed
away
.
It
was
not
very
long
before
that
room
again
knew
her
,
often
;
sitting
there
alone
,
as
patient
and
as
mild
as
when
she
had
watched
beside
the
little
bed
.
When
any
sharp
sense
of
its
being
empty
smote
upon
her
,
she
could
kneel
beside
it
,
and
pray
god
—
it
was
the
pouring
out
of
her
full
heart
—
to
let
one
angel
love
her
and
remember
her
.
It
was
not
very
long
before
,
in
the
midst
of
the
dismal
house
so
wide
and
dreary
,
her
low
voice
in
the
twilight
,
slowly
and
stopping
sometimes
,
touched
the
old
air
to
which
he
had
so
often
listened
,
with
his
drooping
head
upon
her
arm
.
And
after
that
,
and
when
it
was
quite
dark
,
a
little
strain
of
music
trembled
in
the
room
:
so
softly
played
and
sung
,
that
it
was
more
like
the
mournful
recollection
of
what
she
had
done
at
his
request
on
that
last
night
,
than
the
reality
repeated
.
But
it
was
repeated
,
often
—
very
often
,
in
the
shadowy
solitude
;
and
broken
murmurs
of
the
strain
still
trembled
on
the
keys
,
when
the
sweet
voice
was
hushed
in
tears
.
Thus
she
gained
heart
to
look
upon
the
work
with
which
her
fingers
had
been
busy
by
his
side
on
the
sea-shore
;
and
thus
it
was
not
very
long
before
she
took
to
it
again
—
with
something
of
a
human
love
for
it
,
as
if
it
had
been
sentient
and
had
known
him
;
and
,
sitting
in
a
window
,
near
her
mother
's
picture
,
in
the
unused
room
so
long
deserted
,
wore
away
the
thoughtful
hours
.
Why
did
the
dark
eyes
turn
so
often
from
this
work
to
where
the
rosy
children
lived
?
They
were
not
immediately
suggestive
of
her
loss
;
for
they
were
all
girls
:
four
little
sisters
.
But
they
were
motherless
like
her
—
and
had
a
father
.
It
was
easy
to
know
when
he
had
gone
out
and
was
expected
home
,
for
the
elder
child
was
always
dressed
and
waiting
for
him
at
the
drawing-room
window
,
or
in
the
balcony
;
and
when
he
appeared
,
her
expectant
face
lighted
up
with
joy
,
while
the
others
at
the
high
window
,
and
always
on
the
watch
too
,
clapped
their
hands
,
and
drummed
them
on
the
sill
,
and
called
to
him
.
The
elder
child
would
come
down
to
the
hall
,
and
put
her
hand
in
his
,
and
lead
him
up
the
stairs
;
and
Florence
would
see
her
afterwards
sitting
by
his
side
,
or
on
his
knee
,
or
hanging
coaxingly
about
his
neck
and
talking
to
him
:
and
though
they
were
always
gay
together
,
he
would
often
watch
her
face
as
if
he
thought
her
like
her
mother
that
was
dead
.
Florence
would
sometimes
look
no
more
at
this
,
and
bursting
into
tears
would
hide
behind
the
curtain
as
if
she
were
frightened
,
or
would
hurry
from
the
window
.
Yet
she
could
not
help
returning
;
and
her
work
would
soon
fall
unheeded
from
her
hands
again
.
It
was
the
house
that
had
been
empty
,
years
ago
,
It
had
remained
so
for
a
long
time
.
At
last
,
and
while
she
had
been
away
from
home
,
this
family
had
taken
it
;
and
it
was
repaired
and
newly
painted
;
and
there
were
birds
and
flowers
about
it
;
and
it
looked
very
different
from
its
old
self
.
But
she
never
thought
of
the
house
.
The
children
and
their
father
were
all
in
all
.
When
he
had
dined
,
she
could
see
them
,
through
the
open
windows
,
go
down
with
their
governess
or
nurse
,
and
cluster
round
the
table
;
and
in
the
still
summer
weather
,
the
sound
of
their
childish
voices
and
clear
laughter
would
come
ringing
across
the
street
,
into
the
drooping
air
of
the
room
in
which
she
sat
.
Then
they
would
climb
and
clamber
up
stairs
with
him
,
and
romp
about
him
on
the
sofa
,
or
group
themselves
at
his
knee
,
a
very
nosegay
of
little
faces
,
while
he
seemed
to
tell
them
some
story
.
Or
they
would
come
running
out
into
the
balcony
;
and
then
Florence
would
hide
herself
quickly
,
lest
it
should
check
them
in
their
joy
,
to
see
her
in
her
black
dress
,
sitting
there
alone
.
The
elder
child
remained
with
her
father
when
the
rest
had
gone
away
,
and
made
his
tea
for
him
—
happy
little
housekeeper
she
was
then
!
—
and
sat
conversing
with
him
,
sometimes
at
the
window
,
sometimes
in
the
room
,
until
the
candles
came
.
He
made
her
his
companion
,
though
she
was
some
years
younger
than
Florence
;
and
she
could
be
as
staid
and
pleasantly
demure
,
with
her
little
book
or
work-box
,
as
a
woman
.
When
they
had
candles
,
Florence
from
her
own
dark
room
was
not
afraid
to
look
again
.
But
when
the
time
came
for
the
child
to
say
`
Good
night
,
papa
,
´
and
go
to
bed
,
Florence
would
sob
and
tremble
as
she
raised
her
face
to
him
,
and
could
look
no
more
.
Though
still
she
would
turn
,
again
and
again
,
before
going
to
bed
herself
,
from
the
simple
air
that
had
lulled
him
to
rest
so
often
,
long
ago
,
and
from
the
other
low
soft
broken
strain
of
music
,
back
to
that
house
.
But
that
she
ever
thought
of
it
,
or
watched
it
,
was
a
secret
which
she
kept
within
her
own
young
breast
.
And
did
that
breast
of
Florence
—
Florence
,
so
ingenuous
and
true
—
so
worthy
of
the
love
that
he
had
borne
her
,
and
had
whispered
in
his
last
faint
words
—
whose
guileless
heart
was
mirrored
in
the
beauty
of
her
face
,
and
breathed
in
every
accent
of
her
gentle
voice
—
did
that
young
breast
hold
any
other
secret
?
Yes
.
One
more
.
When
no
one
in
the
house
was
stirring
,
and
the
lights
were
all
extinguished
,
she
would
softly
leave
her
own
room
,
and
with
noiseless
feet
descend
the
staircase
,
and
approach
her
father
's
door
.
Against
it
,
scarcely
breathing
,
she
would
rest
her
face
and
head
,
and
press
her
lips
,
in
the
yearning
of
her
love
.
She
crouched
upon
the
cold
stone
floor
outside
it
,
every
night
,
to
listen
even
for
his
breath
;
and
in
her
one
absorbing
wish
to
be
allowed
to
show
him
some
affection
,
to
be
a
consolation
to
him
,
to
win
him
over
to
the
endurance
of
some
tenderness
from
her
,
his
solitary
child
,
she
would
have
knelt
down
at
his
feet
,
if
she
had
dared
,
in
humble
supplication
.
No
one
knew
it
.
No
one
thought
of
it
.
The
door
was
ever
closed
,
and
he
shut
up
within
.
He
went
out
once
or
twice
,
and
it
was
said
in
the
house
that
he
was
very
soon
going
on
his
country
journey
;
but
he
lived
in
those
rooms
,
and
lived
alone
,
and
never
saw
her
,
or
inquired
for
her
.
Perhaps
he
did
not
even
know
that
she
was
in
the
house
.
One
day
,
about
a
week
after
the
funeral
,
Florence
was
sitting
at
her
work
,
when
Susan
appeared
,
with
a
face
half
laughing
and
half
crying
to
announce
a
visitor
.
`
A
visitor
!
To
me
,
Susan
!
´
said
Florence
,
looking
up
in
astonishment
.
`
Well
,
it
is
a
wonder
,
ai
n't
it
now
,
Miss
Floy
?
´
said
Susan
;
`
but
I
wish
you
had
a
many
visitors
,
I
do
,
indeed
,
for
you
'd
be
all
the
better
for
it
,
and
it
's
my
opinion
that
the
sooner
you
and
me
goes
even
to
them
old
Skettleses
,
Miss
,
the
better
for
both
,
I
may
not
wish
to
live
in
crowds
,
Miss
Floy
,
but
still
I
'm
not
a
oyster
.
´
To
do
Miss
Nipper
justice
,
she
spoke
more
for
her
young
mistress
than
herself
;
and
her
face
showed
it
.
`
But
the
visitor
,
Susan
,
´
said
Florence
.
Susan
,
with
an
hysterical
explosion
that
was
as
much
a
laugh
as
a
sob
,
and
as
much
a
sob
as
a
laugh
,
answered
,
`
Mr.
Toots
!
´
The
smile
that
appeared
on
Florence
's
face
passed
from
it
in
a
moment
,
and
her
eyes
filled
with
tears
.
But
at
any
rate
it
was
a
smile
,
and
that
gave
great
satisfaction
to
Miss
Nipper
.
`
My
own
feelings
exactly
,
Miss
Floy
,
´
said
Susan
,
putting
her
apron
to
her
eyes
,
and
shaking
her
head
.
`
Immediately
I
see
that
Innocent
in
the
Hall
,
Miss
Floy
,
I
burst
out
laughing
first
,
and
then
I
choked
.
´
Susan
Nipper
involuntarily
proceeded
to
do
the
like
again
on
the
spot
.
In
the
meantime
Mr.
Toots
,
who
had
come
up
stairs
after
her
,
all
unconscious
of
the
effect
he
produced
,
announced
himself
with
his
knuckles
on
the
door
,
and
walked
in
very
briskly
.
`
How
d'ye
do
,
Miss
Dombey
?
´
said
Mr.
Toots
.
`
I
'm
very
well
,
I
thank
you
;
how
are
you
?
´
Mr.
Toots
—
than
whom
there
were
few
better
fellows
in
the
world
,
though
there
may
have
been
one
or
two
brighter
spirits
—
had
laboriously
invented
this
long
burst
of
discourse
with
the
view
of
relieving
the
feelings
both
of
Florence
and
himself
.
But
finding
that
he
had
run
through
his
property
,
as
it
were
,
in
an
injudicious
manner
,
by
squandering
the
whole
before
taking
a
chair
,
or
before
Florence
had
uttered
a
word
,
or
before
he
had
well
got
in
at
the
door
,
he
deemed
it
advisable
to
begin
again
.
`
How
d'ye
do
,
Miss
Dombey
?
´
said
Mr.
Toots
.
`
I
'm
very
well
,
I
thank
you
;
how
are
you
?
´
Florence
gave
him
her
hand
,
and
said
she
was
very
well
.
`
I
'm
very
well
indeed
,
´
said
Mr.
Toots
,
taking
a
chair
.
`
Very
well
indeed
,
I
am
.
I
do
n't
remember
,
´
said
Mr.
Toots
,
after
reflecting
a
little
,
`
that
I
was
ever
better
,
thank
you
.
´
`
It
's
very
kind
of
you
to
come
,
´
said
Florence
,
taking
up
her
work
.
`
I
am
very
glad
to
see
you
.
´
Mr.
Toots
responded
with
a
chuckle
.
Thinking
that
might
be
too
lively
,
he
corrected
it
with
a
sigh
.
Thinking
that
might
be
too
melancholy
,
he
corrected
it
with
a
chuckle
.
Not
thoroughly
pleasing
himself
with
either
mode
of
reply
,
he
breathed
hard
.
`
You
were
very
kind
to
my
dear
brother
,
´
said
Florence
,
obeying
her
own
natural
impulse
to
relieve
him
by
saying
so
.
`
He
often
talked
to
me
about
you
.
´
`
Oh
,
it
's
of
no
consequence
,
´
said
Mr.
Toots
hastily
.
`
Warm
,
ai
n't
it
?
´
`
It
is
beautiful
weather
,
´
replied
Florence
.
`
It
agrees
with
me
!
´
said
Mr.
Toots
.
`
I
do
n't
think
I
ever
was
so
well
as
I
find
myself
at
present
,
I
'm
obliged
to
you
.
´
After
stating
this
curious
and
unexpected
fact
,
Mr.
Toots
fell
into
a
deep
well
of
silence
.
`
You
have
left
Dr.
Blimber
's
,
I
think
?
´
said
Florence
,
trying
to
help
him
out
.
`
I
should
hope
so
,
´
returned
Mr.
Toots
.
And
tumbled
in
again
.
He
remained
at
the
bottom
,
apparently
drowned
,
for
at
least
ten
minutes
.
At
the
expiration
of
that
period
,
he
suddenly
floated
,
and
said
,
`
Well
!
Good
morning
,
Miss
Dombey
.
´
`
Are
you
going
?
´
asked
Florence
,
rising
.
`
I
do
n't
know
,
though
.
No
,
not
just
at
present
,
´
said
Mr.
Toots
,
sitting
down
again
,
most
unexpectedly
.
`
The
fact
is
—
I
say
,
Miss
Dombey
!
´
`
Do
n't
be
afraid
to
speak
to
me
,
´
said
Florence
,
with
a
quiet
smile
,
`
I
should
be
very
glad
if
you
would
talk
about
my
brother
.
´
`
Would
you
,
though
?
´
retorted
Mr.
Toots
,
with
sympathy
in
every
fibre
of
his
otherwise
expressionless
face
.
`
Poor
Dombey
!
I
'm
sure
I
never
thought
that
Burgess
and
Co.
—
fashionable
tailors
(
but
very
dear
)
,
that
we
used
to
talk
about
—
would
make
this
suit
of
clothes
for
such
a
purpose
.
´
Mr.
Toots
was
dressed
in
mourning
.
`
Poor
Dombey
!
I
say
!
Miss
Dombey
!
´
blubbered
Toots
.
`
Yes
,
´
said
Florence
.
`
There
's
a
friend
he
took
to
very
much
at
last
.
I
thought
you
'd
like
to
have
him
,
perhaps
,
as
a
sort
of
keepsake
.
You
remember
his
remembering
Diogenes
?
´
`
Oh
yes
!
oh
yes
!
´
cried
Florence
.
`
Poor
Dombey
!
So
do
I
,
´
said
Mr.
Toots
.
Mr.
Toots
,
seeing
Florence
in
tears
,
had
great
difficulty
in
getting
beyond
this
point
,
and
had
nearly
tumbled
into
the
well
again
.
But
a
chuckle
saved
him
on
the
brink
.
`
I
say
,
´
he
proceeded
,
`
Miss
Dombey
!
I
could
have
had
him
stolen
for
ten
shillings
,
if
they
had
n't
given
him
up
:
and
I
would
:
but
they
were
glad
to
get
rid
of
him
,
I
think
.
If
you
'd
like
to
have
him
,
he
's
at
the
door
.
I
brought
him
on
purpose
for
you
.
He
ai
n't
a
lady
's
dog
,
you
know
,
´
said
Mr.
Toots
,
`
but
you
wo
n't
mind
that
,
will
you
?
´
In
fact
Diogenes
was
at
that
moment
,
as
they
presently
ascertained
from
looking
down
into
the
street
,
staring
through
the
window
of
a
hackney
cabriolet
,
into
which
,
for
conveyance
to
that
spot
,
he
had
been
ensnared
,
on
a
false
pretence
of
rats
among
the
straw
.
Sooth
to
say
,
he
was
as
unlike
a
lady
's
dog
as
might
be
;
and
in
his
gruff
anxiety
to
get
out
,
presented
an
appearance
sufficiently
unpromising
,
as
he
gave
short
yelps
out
of
one
side
of
his
mouth
,
and
overbalancing
himself
by
the
intensity
of
every
one
of
those
efforts
,
tumbled
down
into
the
straw
,
and
then
sprung
panting
up
again
,
putting
out
his
tongue
,
as
if
he
had
come
express
to
a
Dispensary
to
be
examined
for
his
health
.
But
though
Diogenes
was
as
ridiculous
a
dog
as
one
would
meet
with
on
a
summer
's
day
;
a
blundering
,
ill-favoured
,
clumsy
,
bullet-headed
dog
,
continually
acting
on
a
wrong
idea
that
there
was
an
enemy
in
the
neighbourhood
,
whom
it
was
meritorious
to
bark
at
;
and
though
he
was
far
from
good-tempered
,
and
certainly
was
not
clever
,
and
had
hair
all
over
his
eyes
,
and
a
comic
nose
,
and
an
inconsistent
tail
,
and
a
gruff
voice
;
he
was
dearer
to
Florence
,
in
virtue
of
that
parting
remembrance
of
him
,
and
that
request
that
he
might
be
taken
care
of
,
than
the
most
valuable
and
beautiful
of
his
kind
.
So
dear
,
indeed
,
was
this
same
ugly
Diogenes
,
and
so
welcome
to
her
,
that
she
took
the
jewelled
hand
of
Mr.
Toots
and
kissed
it
in
her
gratitude
.
And
when
Diogenes
,
released
,
came
tearing
up
the
stairs
and
bouncing
into
the
room
(
such
a
business
as
there
was
first
,
to
get
him
out
of
the
cabriolet
!
)
,
dived
under
all
the
furniture
,
and
wound
a
long
iron
chain
,
that
dangled
from
his
neck
,
round
legs
of
chairs
and
tables
,
and
then
tugged
at
it
until
his
eyes
became
unnaturally
visible
,
in
consequence
of
their
nearly
starting
out
of
his
head
;
and
when
he
growled
at
Mr.
Toots
,
who
affected
familiarity
;
and
went
pell-mell
at
Towlinson
,
morally
convinced
that
he
was
the
enemy
whom
he
had
barked
at
round
the
corner
all
his
life
and
had
never
seen
yet
;
Florence
was
as
pleased
with
him
as
if
he
had
been
a
miracle
of
discretion
.
Mr.
Toots
was
so
overjoyed
by
the
success
of
his
present
,
and
was
so
delighted
to
see
Florence
bending
down
over
Diogenes
,
smoothing
his
coarse
back
with
her
little
delicate
hand
—
Diogenes
graciously
allowing
it
from
the
first
moment
of
their
acquaintance
—
that
he
felt
it
difficult
to
take
leave
,
and
would
,
no
doubt
,
have
been
a
much
longer
time
in
making
up
his
mind
to
do
so
,
if
he
had
not
been
assisted
by
Diogenes
himself
,
who
suddenly
took
it
into
his
head
to
bay
Mr.
Toots
,
and
to
make
short
runs
at
him
with
his
mouth
open
.
Not
exactly
seeing
his
way
to
the
end
of
these
demonstrations
,
and
sensible
that
they
placed
the
pantaloons
constructed
by
the
art
of
Burgess
and
Co.
in
jeopardy
,
Mr.
Toots
,
with
chuckles
,
lapsed
out
at
the
door
:
by
which
,
after
looking
in
again
two
or
three
times
,
without
any
object
at
all
,
and
being
on
each
occasion
greeted
with
a
fresh
run
from
Diogenes
,
he
finally
took
himself
off
and
got
away
.
`
Come
,
then
,
Di
!
Dear
Di
!
Make
friends
with
your
new
mistress
.
Let
us
love
each
other
,
Di
!
´
said
Florence
fondling
his
shaggy
head
.
And
Di
,
the
rough
and
gruff
,
as
if
his
hairy
hide
were
pervious
to
the
tear
that
dropped
upon
it
,
and
his
dog
's
heart
melted
as
it
fell
,
put
his
nose
up
to
her
face
,
and
swore
fidelity
.
Diogenes
the
man
did
not
speak
plainer
to
Alexander
the
Great
than
Diogenes
the
dog
spoke
to
Florence
.
He
subscribed
to
the
offer
of
his
little
mistress
cheerfully
,
and
devoted
himself
to
her
service
.
A
banquet
was
immediately
provided
for
him
in
a
corner
;
and
when
he
had
eaten
and
drunk
his
fill
,
he
went
to
the
window
where
Florence
was
sitting
,
looking
on
,
rose
up
on
his
hind
legs
,
with
his
awkward
fore
paws
on
her
shoulders
,
licked
her
face
and
hands
,
nestled
his
great
head
against
her
heart
,
and
wagged
his
tail
till
he
was
tired
.
Finally
,
Diogenes
coiled
himself
up
at
her
feet
and
went
to
sleep
.
Although
Miss
Nipper
was
nervous
in
regard
of
dogs
,
and
felt
it
necessary
to
come
into
the
room
with
her
skirts
carefully
collected
about
her
,
as
if
she
were
crossing
a
brook
on
stepping-stones
;
also
to
utter
little
screams
and
stand
up
on
chairs
when
Diogenes
stretched
himself
:
she
was
in
her
own
manner
affected
by
the
kindness
of
Mr.
Toots
,
and
could
not
see
Florence
so
alive
to
the
attachment
and
society
of
this
rude
friend
of
little
Paul
's
,
without
some
mental
comments
thereupon
that
brought
the
water
to
her
eyes
.
Mr.
Dombey
,
as
a
part
of
her
reflections
,
may
have
been
,
in
the
association
of
ideas
,
connected
with
the
dog
;
but
,
at
any
rate
,
after
observing
Diogenes
and
his
mistress
all
the
evening
,
and
after
exerting
herself
with
much
good-will
to
provide
Diogenes
a
bed
in
an
ante-chamber
outside
his
mistress
's
door
,
she
said
hurriedly
to
Florence
,
before
leaving
her
for
the
night
:
`
Your
Pa
's
a
going
off
,
Miss
Floy
,
to-morrow
morning
.
´
`
To-morrow
morning
,
Susan
?
´
`
Yes
,
Miss
;
that
's
the
orders
.
Early
.
´
`
Do
you
know
,
´
asked
Florence
,
without
looking
at
her
,
`
where
Papa
is
going
,
Susan
?
´
`
Not
exactly
,
Miss.
He
's
going
to
meet
that
precious
Major
first
,
and
I
must
say
if
I
was
acquainted
with
any
Major
myself
(
which
Heavens
forbid
)
,
it
should
n't
be
a
blue
one
!
´
`
Hush
,
Susan
!
´
urged
Florence
gently
.
`
Well
,
Miss
Floy
,
´
returned
Miss
Nipper
,
who
was
full
of
burning
indignation
,
and
minded
her
stops
even
less
than
usual
.
`
I
ca
n't
help
it
,
blue
he
is
,
and
while
I
was
a
Christian
,
although
humble
,
I
would
have
natural-coloured
friends
,
or
none
.
´
It
appeared
from
what
she
added
and
had
gleaned
downstairs
,
that
Mrs.
Chick
had
proposed
the
Major
for
Mr.
Dombey
's
companion
,
and
that
Mr.
Dombey
,
after
some
hesitation
,
had
invited
him
.
`
Talk
of
him
being
a
change
,
indeed
!
´
observed
Miss
Nipper
to
herself
with
boundless
contempt
.
`
If
he
's
a
change
give
me
a
constancy
.
´
`
Good
night
,
Susan
,
´
said
Florence
.
`
Good
night
,
my
darling
dear
Miss
Floy
.
´
Her
tone
of
commiseration
smote
the
chord
so
often
roughly
touched
,
but
never
listened
to
while
she
or
any
one
looked
on
.
Florence
left
alone
,
laid
her
head
upon
her
hand
,
and
pressing
the
other
over
her
swelling
heart
,
held
free
communication
with
her
sorrows
.
It
was
a
wet
night
;
and
the
melancholy
rain
fell
pattering
and
dropping
with
a
wearied
sound
.
A
sluggish
wind
was
blowing
,
and
went
moaning
round
the
house
,
as
if
it
were
in
pain
or
grief
.
A
shrill
noise
quivered
through
the
trees
.
While
she
sat
weeping
,
it
grew
late
,
and
dreary
midnight
tolled
out
from
the
steeples
.
Florence
was
little
more
than
a
child
in
years
—
not
yet
fourteen
—
and
the
loneliness
and
gloom
of
such
an
hour
in
the
great
house
where
Death
had
lately
made
its
own
tremendous
devastation
,
might
have
set
an
older
fancy
brooding
on
vague
terrors
.
But
her
innocent
imagination
was
too
full
of
one
theme
to
admit
them
.
Nothing
wandered
in
her
thoughts
but
love
—
a
wandering
love
,
indeed
,
and
cast
away
—
but
turning
always
to
her
father
.
There
was
nothing
in
the
dropping
of
the
rain
,
the
moaning
of
the
wind
,
the
shuddering
of
the
trees
,
the
striking
of
the
solemn
clocks
,
that
shook
this
one
thought
,
or
diminished
its
interest
.
Her
recollections
of
the
dear
dead
boy
—
and
they
were
never
absent
—
were
itself
;
the
same
thing
.
And
oh
,
to
be
shut
out
:
to
be
so
lost
:
never
to
have
looked
into
her
father
's
face
or
touched
him
since
that
hour
!
She
could
not
go
to
bed
,
poor
child
,
and
never
had
gone
yet
,
since
then
,
without
making
her
nightly
pilgrimage
to
his
door
.
It
would
have
been
a
strange
sad
sight
,
to
see
her
now
,
stealing
lightly
down
the
stairs
through
the
thick
gloom
,
and
stopping
at
it
with
a
beating
heart
,
and
blinded
eyes
,
and
hair
that
fell
down
loosely
and
unthought
of
;
and
touching
it
outside
with
her
wet
cheek
.
But
the
night
covered
it
,
and
no
one
knew
.
The
moment
that
she
touched
the
door
on
this
night
,
Florence
found
that
it
was
open
.
For
the
first
time
it
stood
open
,
though
by
but
a
hair's-breadth
:
and
there
was
a
light
within
.
The
first
impulse
of
the
timid
child
—
and
she
yielded
to
it
—
was
to
retire
swiftly
.
Her
next
,
to
go
back
,
and
to
enter
;
and
this
second
impulse
held
her
in
irresolution
on
the
stair-case
.
In
its
standing
open
,
even
by
so
much
as
that
chink
,
there
seemed
to
be
hope
.
There
was
encouragement
in
seeing
a
ray
of
light
from
within
,
stealing
through
the
dark
stern
door-way
,
and
falling
in
a
thread
upon
the
marble
floor
.
She
turned
back
,
hardly
knowing
what
she
did
,
but
urged
on
by
the
love
within
her
,
and
the
trial
they
had
undergone
together
,
but
not
shared
:
and
with
her
hands
a
little
raised
and
trembling
,
glided
in
.
Her
father
sat
at
his
old
table
in
the
middle
room
.
He
had
been
arranging
some
papers
,
and
destroying
others
,
and
the
latter
lay
in
fragile
ruins
before
him
.
The
rain
dripped
heavily
upon
the
glass
panes
in
the
outer
room
,
where
he
had
so
often
watched
poor
Paul
,
a
baby
;
and
the
low
complainings
of
the
wind
were
heard
without
.
But
not
by
him
.
He
sat
with
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
table
,
so
immersed
in
thought
,
that
a
far
heavier
tread
than
the
light
foot
of
his
child
could
make
,
might
have
failed
to
rouse
him
.
His
face
was
turned
towards
her
.
By
the
waning
lamp
,
and
at
the
haggard
hour
,
it
looked
worn
and
dejected
;
and
in
the
utter
loneliness
surrounding
him
,
there
was
an
appeal
to
Florence
that
struck
home
.
`
Papa
!
Papa
!
speak
to
me
,
dear
Papa
!
´
He
started
at
her
voice
,
and
leaped
up
from
his
seat
.
She
was
close
before
him
,
with
extended
arms
,
but
he
fell
back
.
`
What
is
the
matter
?
´
he
said
,
sternly
.
`
Why
do
you
come
here
?
What
has
frightened
you
?
´
If
anything
had
frightened
her
,
it
was
the
face
he
turned
upon
her
.
The
glowing
love
within
the
breast
of
his
young
daughter
froze
before
it
,
and
she
stood
and
looked
at
him
as
if
stricken
into
stone
.
There
was
not
one
touch
of
tenderness
or
pity
in
it
.
There
was
not
one
gleam
of
interest
,
parental
recognition
,
or
relenting
in
it
.
There
was
a
change
in
it
,
but
not
of
that
kind
.
The
old
indifference
and
cold
constraint
had
given
place
to
something
:
what
,
she
never
thought
and
did
not
dare
to
think
,
and
yet
she
felt
it
in
its
force
,
and
knew
it
well
without
a
name
:
that
as
it
looked
upon
her
,
seemed
to
cast
a
shadow
on
her
head
.
Did
he
see
before
him
the
successful
rival
of
his
son
,
in
health
and
life
?
Did
he
look
upon
his
own
successful
rival
of
his
son
,
in
that
son
's
affection
?
Did
a
mad
jealousy
and
withered
pride
,
poison
sweet
remembrances
that
should
have
endeared
and
made
her
precious
to
him
?
Could
it
be
possible
that
it
was
gall
to
him
to
look
upon
her
in
her
beauty
and
her
promise
:
thinking
of
his
infant
boy
!
Florence
had
no
such
thoughts
.
But
love
is
quick
to
know
when
it
is
spurned
and
hopeless
:
and
hope
died
out
of
hers
,
as
she
stood
looking
in
her
father
's
face
.
`
I
ask
you
,
Florence
,
are
you
frightened
?
Is
there
anything
the
matter
,
that
you
come
here
?
´
`
I
came
,
Papa
—
´
`
Against
my
wishes
.
Why
?
´
She
saw
he
knew
why
:
it
was
written
broadly
on
his
face
:
and
dropped
her
head
upon
her
hands
with
one
prolonged
low
cry
.
Let
him
remember
it
in
that
room
,
years
to
come
.
It
has
faded
from
the
air
,
before
he
breaks
the
silence
.
It
may
pass
as
quickly
from
his
brain
,
as
he
believes
,
but
it
is
there
.
Let
him
remember
it
in
that
room
,
years
to
come
!
He
took
her
by
the
arm
.
His
hand
was
cold
,
and
loose
,
and
scarcely
closed
upon
her
.
`
You
are
tired
,
I
dare
say
,
´
he
said
,
taking
up
the
light
,
and
leading
her
towards
the
door
,
`
and
want
rest
.
We
all
want
rest
.
Go
,
Florence
.
You
have
been
dreaming
.
´
The
dream
she
had
had
,
was
over
then
,
God
help
her
!
and
she
felt
that
it
could
never
more
come
back
.
`
I
will
remain
here
to
light
you
up
the
stairs
.
The
whole
house
is
yours
above
there
,
´
said
her
father
,
slowly
.
`
You
are
its
mistress
now
.
Good
night
!
´
Still
covering
her
face
,
she
sobbed
,
and
answered
`
Good
night
,
dear
papa
,
´
and
silently
ascended
.
Once
she
looked
back
as
if
she
would
have
returned
to
him
,
but
for
fear
.
It
was
a
momentary
thought
,
too
hopeless
to
encourage
;
and
her
father
stood
there
with
the
light
—
hard
,
unresponsive
,
motionless
—
until
the
fluttering
dress
of
his
fair
child
was
lost
in
the
darkness
.
Let
him
remember
it
in
that
room
,
years
to
come
.
The
rain
that
falls
upon
the
roof
:
the
wind
that
mourns
outside
the
door
:
may
have
foreknowledge
in
their
melancholy
sound
.
Let
him
remember
it
in
that
room
,
years
to
come
!
The
last
time
he
had
watched
her
,
from
the
same
place
,
winding
up
those
stairs
,
she
had
had
her
brother
in
her
arms
.
It
did
not
move
his
heart
towards
her
now
,
it
steeled
it
:
but
he
went
into
his
room
,
and
locked
his
door
,
and
sat
down
in
his
chair
,
and
cried
for
his
lost
boy
.
Diogenes
was
broad
awake
upon
his
post
,
and
waiting
for
his
little
mistress
.
`
Oh
,
Di
!
Oh
,
dear
Di
!
Love
me
for
his
sake
!
´
Diogenes
already
loved
her
for
her
own
,
and
did
n't
care
how
much
he
showed
it
.
So
he
made
himself
vastly
ridiculous
by
performing
a
variety
of
uncouth
bounces
in
the
ante-chamber
,
and
concluded
,
when
poor
Florence
was
at
last
asleep
,
and
dreaming
of
the
rosy
children
opposite
,
by
scratching
open
her
bedroom
door
:
rolling
up
his
bed
into
a
pillow
:
lying
down
on
the
boards
,
at
the
full
length
of
his
tether
,
with
his
head
towards
her
:
and
looking
lazily
at
her
,
upside
down
,
out
of
the
tops
of
his
eyes
,
until
from
winking
and
winking
he
fell
asleep
himself
,
and
dreamed
,
with
gruff
barks
,
of
his
enemy
.
CHAPTER
XIX
Walter
goes
away
THE
Wooden
Midshipman
at
the
Instrument-maker
's
door
,
like
the
hard-hearted
little
midshipman
he
was
,
remained
supremely
indifferent
to
Walter
's
going
away
,
even
when
the
very
last
day
of
his
sojourn
in
the
back
parlour
was
on
the
decline
.
With
his
quadrant
at
his
round
black
knob
of
an
eye
,
and
his
figure
in
its
old
attitude
of
indomitable
alacrity
,
the
midshipman
displayed
his
elfin
small-clothes
to
the
best
advantage
,
and
,
absorbed
in
scientific
pursuits
,
had
no
sympathy
with
worldly
concerns
.
He
was
so
far
the
creature
of
circumstances
,
that
a
dry
day
covered
him
with
dust
,
and
a
misty
day
peppered
him
with
little
bits
of
soot
,
and
a
wet
day
brightened
up
his
tarnished
uniform
for
the
moment
,
and
a
very
hot
day
blistered
him
;
but
otherwise
he
was
a
callous
,
obdurate
,
conceited
midshipman
,
intent
on
his
own
discoveries
,
and
caring
as
little
for
what
went
on
about
him
,
terrestrially
,
as
Archimedes
at
the
taking
of
Syracuse
.
Such
a
midshipman
he
seemed
to
be
,
at
least
,
in
the
then
position
of
domestic
affairs
.
Walter
eyed
him
kindly
many
a
time
in
passing
in
and
out
;
and
poor
old
Sol
,
when
Walter
was
not
there
,
would
come
and
lean
against
the
doorpost
,
resting
his
weary
wig
as
near
the
shoe-buckles
of
the
guardian
genius
of
his
trade
and
shop
as
he
could
.
But
no
fierce
idol
with
a
mouth
from
ear
to
ear
,
and
a
murderous
visage
made
of
parrot
's
feathers
,
was
ever
more
indifferent
to
the
appeals
of
its
savage
votaries
,
than
was
the
midshipman
to
these
marks
of
attachment
.
Walter
's
heart
felt
heavy
as
he
looked
round
his
old
bedroom
,
up
among
the
parapets
and
chimney-pots
,
and
thought
that
one
more
night
already
darkening
would
close
his
acquaintance
with
it
,
perhaps
for
ever
.
Dismantled
of
his
little
stock
of
books
and
pictures
,
it
looked
coldly
and
reproachfully
on
him
for
his
desertion
,
and
had
already
a
foreshadowing
upon
it
of
its
coming
strangeness
.
`
A
few
hours
more
,
´
thought
Walter
,
`
and
no
dream
I
ever
had
here
when
I
was
a
schoolboy
will
be
so
little
mine
as
this
old
room
.
The
dream
may
come
back
in
my
sleep
,
and
I
may
return
waking
to
this
place
,
it
may
be
:
but
the
dream
at
least
will
serve
no
other
master
,
and
the
room
may
have
a
score
,
and
every
one
of
them
may
change
,
neglect
,
misuse
it
.
´
But
his
uncle
was
not
to
be
left
alone
in
the
little
back
parlour
,
where
he
was
then
sitting
by
himself
;
for
Captain
Cuttle
,
considerate
in
his
roughness
,
stayed
away
against
his
will
,
purposely
that
they
should
have
some
talk
together
unobserved
:
so
Walter
,
newly
returned
home
from
his
last
day
's
bustle
,
descended
briskly
,
to
bear
him
company
.
`
Uncle
,
´
he
said
gaily
,
laying
his
hand
upon
the
old
man
's
shoulder
,
`
what
shall
I
send
you
home
from
Barbados
?
´
`
Hope
,
my
dear
Wally
.
Hope
that
we
shall
meet
again
,
on
this
side
of
the
grave
.
Send
me
as
much
of
that
as
you
can
.
´
`
So
I
will
,
Uncle
:
I
have
enough
and
to
spare
,
and
I
'll
not
be
chary
of
it
!
And
as
to
lively
turtles
,
and
limes
for
Captain
Cuttle
's
punch
,
and
preserves
for
you
on
Sundays
,
and
all
that
sort
of
thing
,
why
I
'll
send
you
ship-loads
,
Uncle
:
when
I
'm
rich
enough
.
´
Old
Sol
wiped
his
spectacles
,
and
faintly
smiled
.
`
That
's
right
,
Uncle
!
´
cried
Walter
,
merrily
,
and
clapping
him
half
a
dozen
times
more
upon
the
shoulder
.
`
You
cheer
up
me
!
I
'll
cheer
up
you
!
We
'll
be
as
gay
as
larks
to-morrow
morning
,
Uncle
,
and
we
'll
fly
as
high
!
As
to
my
anticipations
,
they
are
singing
out
of
sight
now
.
´
`
Wally
,
my
dear
boy
,
´
returned
the
old
man
,
I
'll
do
my
best
,
I
'll
do
my
best
.
´
`
And
your
best
,
Uncle
,
´
said
Walter
,
with
his
pleasant
laugh
,
`
is
the
best
best
that
I
know
.
You
'll
not
forget
what
you
're
to
send
me
,
Uncle
?
´
`
No
,
Wally
,
no
,
´
replied
the
old
man
;
`
everything
I
hear
about
Miss
Dombey
,
now
that
she
is
left
alone
,
poor
lamb
,
I
'll
write
.
I
fear
it
wo
n't
be
much
though
,
Wally
.
´
`
Why
,
I
'll
tell
you
what
,
Uncle
,
´
said
Walter
,
after
a
moment
's
hesitation
,
`
I
have
just
been
up
there
.
´
`
Ay
,
ay
,
ay
?
´
murmured
the
old
man
,
raising
his
eyebrows
,
and
his
spectacles
with
them
.
`
Not
to
see
her
,
´
said
Walter
,
`
though
I
could
have
seen
her
,
I
dare
say
,
if
I
had
asked
,
Mr.
Dombey
being
out
of
town
:
but
to
say
a
parting
word
to
Susan
.
I
thought
I
might
venture
to
do
that
,
you
know
,
under
the
circumstances
,
and
remembering
when
I
saw
Miss
Dombey
last
.
´
`
Yes
,
my
boy
,
yes
,
´
replied
his
Uncle
,
rousing
himself
from
a
temporary
abstraction
.
`
So
I
saw
her
,
´
pursued
Walter
,
`
Susan
,
I
mean
:
and
I
told
her
I
was
off
and
away
to-morrow
.
And
I
said
,
Uncle
,
that
you
had
always
had
an
interest
in
Miss
Dombey
since
that
night
when
she
was
here
,
and
always
wished
her
well
and
happy
,
and
always
would
be
proud
and
glad
to
serve
her
in
the
least
:
I
thought
I
might
say
that
,
you
know
,
under
the
circumstances
.
Do
n't
you
think
so
?
´
`
Yes
,
my
boy
,
yes
,
´
replied
his
Uncle
,
in
the
tone
as
before
.
`
And
I
added
,
´
pursued
Walter
,
`
that
if
she
—
Susan
,
I
mean
—
could
ever
let
you
know
,
either
through
herself
,
or
Mrs.
Richards
,
or
anybody
else
who
might
be
coming
this
way
,
that
Miss
Dombey
was
well
and
happy
,
you
would
take
it
very
kindly
,
and
would
write
so
much
to
me
,
and
I
should
take
it
very
kindly
too
.
There
!
Upon
my
word
,
Uncle
,
´
said
Walter
,
`
I
scarcely
slept
all
last
night
through
thinking
of
doing
this
;
and
could
not
make
up
my
kind
when
I
was
out
,
whether
to
do
it
or
not
;
and
yet
I
am
sure
it
is
the
true
feeling
of
my
heart
,
and
I
should
have
been
quite
miserable
afterwards
if
I
had
not
relieved
it
.
´
His
honest
voice
and
manner
corroborated
what
he
said
,
and
quite
established
its
ingenuousness
.
`
So
,
if
you
ever
see
her
,
Uncle
,
´
said
Walter
,
`
I
mean
Miss
Dombey
now
—
and
perhaps
you
may
,
who
knows
!
—
tell
her
how
much
I
felt
for
her
;
how
much
I
used
to
think
of
her
when
I
was
here
;
how
I
spoke
of
her
,
with
the
tears
in
my
eyes
,
uncle
,
on
this
last
night
before
I
went
away
.
Tell
her
that
I
said
I
never
could
forget
her
gentle
manner
,
or
her
beautiful
face
,
or
her
sweet
kind
disposition
that
was
better
than
all
.
And
as
I
did
n't
take
them
from
a
woman
's
feet
,
or
a
young
lady
's
:
only
a
little
innocent
child
's
,
´
said
Walter
:
`
tell
her
,
if
you
do
n't
mind
,
Uncle
,
that
I
kept
those
shoes
—
she
'll
remember
how
often
they
fell
off
,
that
night
—
and
took
them
away
with
me
as
a
remembrance
!
´
They
were
at
that
very
moment
going
out
at
the
door
in
one
of
Walter
's
trunks
.
A
porter
carrying
off
his
baggage
on
a
truck
for
shipment
at
the
docks
on
board
the
Son
and
Heir
,
had
got
possession
of
them
;
and
wheeled
them
away
under
the
very
eye
of
the
insensible
Midshipman
before
their
owner
had
well
finished
speaking
.
But
that
ancient
mariner
might
have
been
excused
his
insensibility
to
the
treasure
as
it
rolled
away
.
For
,
under
his
eye
at
the
same
moment
,
accurately
within
his
range
of
observation
,
coming
full
into
the
sphere
of
his
startled
and
intensely
wide-awake
look-out
,
were
Florence
and
Susan
Nipper
:
Florence
looking
up
into
his
face
half
timidly
,
and
receiving
the
whole
shock
of
his
wooden
ogling
!
More
than
this
,
they
passed
into
the
shop
,
and
passed
in
at
the
parlour
door
before
they
were
observed
by
anybody
but
the
Midshipman
.
And
Walter
,
having
his
back
to
the
door
,
would
have
known
nothing
of
their
apparition
even
then
,
but
for
seeing
his
uncle
spring
out
of
his
own
chair
,
and
nearly
tumble
over
another
.
`
Why
,
Uncle
!
´
exclaimed
Walter
.
`
What
's
the
matter
?
´
Old
Solomon
replied
,
`
Miss
Dombey
!
´
`
Is
it
possible
?
´
cried
Walter
,
looking
round
and
starting
up
in
his
turn
.
`
Here
!
´
Why
,
it
was
so
possible
and
so
actual
,
that
,
while
the
words
were
on
his
lips
,
Florence
hurried
past
him
;
took
Uncle
Sol
's
snuff-coloured
lappels
,
one
in
each
hand
;
kissed
him
on
the
cheek
;
and
turning
,
gave
her
hand
to
Walter
with
a
simple
truth
and
earnestness
that
was
her
own
,
and
no
one
else
's
in
the
world
!
`
Going
away
,
Walter
!
´
said
Florence
.
`
Yes
,
Miss
Dombey
,
´
he
replied
,
but
not
so
hopefully
as
he
endeavoured
:
`
I
have
a
voyage
before
me
.
´
`
And
your
Uncle
,
´
said
Florence
,
looking
back
at
Solomon
.
`
He
is
sorry
you
are
going
,
I
am
sure
.
Ah
!
I
see
he
is
!
Dear
Walter
,
I
am
very
sorry
too
.
´
`
Goodness
knows
,
´
exclaimed
Miss
Nipper
,
`
there
's
a
many
we
could
spare
instead
,
if
numbers
is
a
object
,
Mrs.
Pipchin
as
a
overseer
would
come
cheap
at
her
weight
in
gold
,
and
if
a
knowledge
of
black
slavery
should
be
required
,
them
Blimbers
is
the
very
people
for
the
sitiwation
.
´
With
that
Miss
Nipper
untied
her
bonnet
strings
,
and
after
looking
vacantly
for
some
moments
into
a
little
black
teapot
that
was
set
forth
with
the
usual
homely
service
on
the
table
,
shook
her
head
and
a
tin
canister
,
and
began
unasked
to
make
the
tea
.
In
the
meantime
Florence
had
turned
again
to
the
Instrument-maker
,
who
was
as
full
of
admiration
as
surprise
.
`
So
grown
!
´
said
old
Sol
.
`
So
improved
!
And
yet
not
altered
!
Just
the
same
!
´
`
Indeed
!
´
said
Florence
.
`
Ye
—
Yes
,
´
returned
old
Sol
,
rubbing
his
hands
slowly
,
and
considering
the
matter
half
aloud
,
as
something
pensive
in
the
bright
eyes
looking
at
him
arrested
his
attention
.
`
Yes
,
that
expression
was
in
the
younger
face
,
too
!
´
`
You
remember
me
,
´
said
Florence
with
a
smile
,
`
and
what
a
little
creature
I
was
then
?
´
`
My
dear
young
lady
,
´
returned
the
Instrument-maker
,
`
how
could
I
forget
you
,
often
as
I
have
thought
of
you
and
heard
of
you
since
!
At
the
very
moment
,
indeed
,
when
you
came
in
,
Wally
was
talking
about
you
to
me
,
and
leaving
messages
for
you
,
and
—
´
`
Was
he
?
´
said
Florence
.
`
Thank
you
,
Walter
!
Oh
thank
you
,
Walter
!
I
was
afraid
you
might
be
going
away
and
hardly
thinking
of
me
;
´
and
again
she
gave
him
her
little
hand
so
freely
and
so
faithfully
that
Walter
held
it
for
some
moments
in
his
own
,
and
could
not
bear
to
let
it
go
.
Yet
Walter
did
not
hold
it
as
he
might
have
held
it
once
,
nor
did
its
touch
awaken
those
old
day-dreams
of
his
boyhood
that
had
floated
past
him
sometimes
even
lately
,
and
confused
him
with
their
indistinct
and
broken
shapes
.
The
purity
and
innocence
of
her
endearing
manner
,
and
its
perfect
trustfulness
,
and
the
undisguised
regard
for
him
that
lay
so
deeply
seated
in
her
constant
eyes
,
and
glowed
upon
her
fair
face
through
the
smile
that
shaded
—
for
alas
!
it
was
a
smile
too
sad
to
brighten
—
it
,
were
not
of
their
romantic
race
.
They
brought
back
to
his
thoughts
the
early
deathbed
he
had
seen
her
tending
,
and
the
love
the
child
had
borne
her
;
and
on
the
wings
of
such
remembrances
she
seemed
to
rise
up
,
far
above
his
idle
fancies
,
into
clearer
and
serener
air
.
`
I
—
I
am
afraid
I
must
call
you
Walter
's
Uncle
,
Sir
,
´
said
Florence
to
the
old
man
,
`
if
you
'll
let
me
.
´
`
My
dear
young
lady
,
´
cried
old
Sol
.
`
Let
you
!
Good
gracious
!
´
`
We
always
knew
you
by
that
name
,
and
talked
of
you
,
´
said
Florence
,
glancing
round
,
and
sighing
gently
.
`
The
nice
old
parlour
!
Just
the
same
!
How
well
I
recollect
it
!
´
Old
Sol
looked
first
at
her
,
then
at
his
nephew
,
and
then
rubbed
his
hands
,
and
rubbed
his
spectacles
,
and
said
below
his
breath
,
`
Ah
!
time
,
time
,
time
!
´
There
was
a
short
silence
:
during
which
Susan
Nipper
skilfully
impounded
two
extra
cups
and
saucers
from
the
cupboard
,
and
awaited
the
drawing
of
the
tea
with
a
thoughtful
air
.
`
I
want
to
tell
Walter
's
Uncle
,
´
said
Florence
,
laying
her
hand
timidly
upon
the
old
man
's
as
it
rested
on
the
table
,
to
bespeak
his
attention
,
`
something
that
I
am
anxious
about
.
He
is
going
to
be
left
alone
,
and
if
he
will
allow
me
—
not
to
take
Walter
's
place
,
for
that
I
could
n't
do
,
but
to
be
his
true
friend
and
help
him
if
I
ever
can
while
Walter
is
away
,
I
shall
be
very
much
obliged
to
him
indeed
.
Will
you
?
May
I
,
Walter
's
Uncle
?
´
The
Instrument-maker
,
without
speaking
,
put
her
hand
to
his
lips
,
and
Susan
Nipper
,
leaning
back
with
her
arms
crossed
,
in
the
chair
of
presidency
into
which
she
had
voted
herself
,
bit
one
end
of
her
bonnet
strings
,
and
heaved
a
gentle
sigh
as
she
looked
up
at
the
skylight
.
`
You
will
let
me
come
to
see
you
,
´
said
Florence
,
`
when
I
can
;
and
you
will
tell
me
everything
about
yourself
and
Walter
;
and
you
will
have
no
secrets
from
Susan
when
she
comes
and
I
do
not
,
but
will
confide
in
us
,
and
trust
us
,
and
rely
upon
us
.
And
you
'll
try
to
let
us
be
a
comfort
to
you
?
Will
you
,
Walter
's
Uncle
?
´
The
sweet
face
looking
into
his
,
the
gentle
pleading
eyes
,
the
soft
voice
,
and
the
light
touch
on
his
arm
made
the
more
winning
by
a
child
's
respect
and
honour
for
his
age
,
that
gave
to
all
an
air
of
graceful
doubt
and
modest
hesitation
—
these
,
and
her
natural
earnestness
,
so
overcame
the
poor
old
Instrument-maker
,
that
he
only
answered
:
`
Wally
!
say
a
word
for
me
,
my
dear
.
I
'm
very
grateful
.
´
`
No
,
Walter
,
´
returned
Florence
with
her
quiet
smile
.
`
Say
nothing
for
him
,
if
you
please
.
I
understand
him
very
well
,
and
we
must
learn
to
talk
together
without
you
,
dear
Walter
.
´
The
regretful
tone
in
which
she
said
these
latter
words
,
touched
Walter
more
than
all
the
rest
.
`
Miss
Florence
,
´
he
replied
,
with
an
effort
to
recover
the
cheerful
manner
he
had
preserved
while
talking
with
his
uncle
,
`
I
know
no
more
than
my
uncle
,
what
to
say
in
acknowledgment
of
such
kindness
,
I
am
sure
.
But
what
could
I
say
,
after
all
,
if
I
had
the
power
of
talking
for
an
hour
,
except
that
it
is
like
you
?
´
Susan
Nipper
began
upon
a
new
part
of
her
bonnet
string
,
and
nodded
at
the
skylight
,
in
approval
of
the
sentiment
expressed
.
`
Oh
!
but
,
Walter
,
´
said
Florence
,
`
there
is
something
that
I
wish
to
say
to
you
before
you
go
away
,
and
you
must
call
me
Florence
,
if
you
please
,
and
not
speak
like
a
stranger
.
´
`
Like
a
stranger
!
´
returned
Walter
.
`
No.
I
could
n't
speak
so
.
I
am
sure
,
at
least
,
I
could
n't
feel
like
one
.
´
`
Aye
,
but
that
is
not
enough
,
and
is
not
what
I
mean
.
For
,
Walter
,
´
added
Florence
,
bursting
into
tears
,
`
he
liked
you
very
much
,
and
said
before
he
died
that
he
was
fond
of
you
,
and
said
“
Remember
Walter
!
”
and
if
you
'll
be
a
brother
to
me
,
Walter
,
now
that
he
is
gone
and
I
have
none
on
earth
,
I
'll
be
your
sister
all
my
life
,
and
think
of
you
like
one
wherever
we
may
be
!
This
is
what
I
wished
to
say
,
dear
Walter
,
but
I
cannot
say
it
as
I
would
,
because
my
heart
is
full
.
´
And
in
its
fulness
and
its
sweet
simplicity
,
she
held
out
both
her
hands
to
him
.
Walter
taking
them
,
stooped
down
and
touched
the
tearful
face
that
neither
shrunk
nor
turned
away
,
