,and
wrong
,
and
infamy
,
than
here
.
And
Alice
Marwood
is
come
back
a
woman
.
Such
a
woman
as
she
ought
to
be
,
after
all
this
.
In
good
time
,
there
will
be
more
solemnity
,
and
more
fine
talk
,
and
more
strong
arm
,
most
likely
,
and
there
will
be
an
end
of
her
;
but
the
gentlemen
need
n't
be
afraid
of
being
thrown
out
of
work
.
There
's
crowds
of
little
wretches
,
boy
and
girl
,
growing
up
in
any
of
the
streets
they
live
in
,
that
'll
keep
them
to
till
they
've
made
their
fortunes
.
´
The
old
woman
leaned
her
elbows
on
the
table
,
and
resting
her
face
upon
her
two
hands
,
made
a
show
of
being
in
great
distress
—
or
really
was
,
perhaps
.
`
There
!
I
have
done
,
mother
,
´
said
the
daughter
,
with
a
motion
of
her
head
,
as
if
in
dismissal
of
the
subject
.
`
I
have
said
enough
.
Do
n't
let
you
and
I
talk
of
being
dutiful
,
whatever
we
do
.
Your
childhood
was
like
mine
,
I
suppose
.
So
much
the
worse
for
both
of
us
.
I
do
n't
want
to
blame
you
,
or
to
defend
myself
;
why
should
I
?
That
's
all
over
long
ago
.
But
I
am
a
woman
—
not
a
girl
,
now
—
and
you
and
I
need
n't
make
a
show
of
our
history
,
like
the
gentlemen
in
the
Court
.
We
know
all
about
it
well
enough
.
´
Lost
and
degraded
as
she
was
,
there
was
a
beauty
in
her
,
both
of
face
and
form
,
which
,
even
in
its
worst
expression
,
could
not
but
be
recognised
as
such
by
any
one
regarding
her
with
the
least
attention
.
As
she
subsided
into
silence
,
and
her
face
which
had
been
harshly
agitated
,
quieted
down
;
while
her
dark
eyes
,
fixed
upon
the
fire
,
exchanged
the
reckless
light
that
had
animated
them
,
for
one
that
was
softened
by
something
like
sorrow
;
there
shone
through
all
her
wayworn
misery
and
fatigue
,
a
ray
of
the
departed
radiance
of
the
fallen
angel
.
Her
mother
,
after
watching
her
for
some
time
without
speaking
,
ventured
to
steal
her
withered
hand
a
little
nearer
to
her
across
the
table
;
and
finding
that
she
permitted
this
,
to
touch
her
face
and
smooth
her
hair
.
With
the
feeling
as
it
seemed
,
that
the
old
woman
was
at
least
sincere
in
this
show
of
interest
,
Alice
made
no
movement
to
check
her
;
so
,
advancing
by
degrees
,
she
bound
up
her
daughter
's
hair
afresh
,
took
off
her
wet
shoes
,
if
they
deserved
the
name
,
spread
something
dry
upon
her
shoulders
,
and
hovered
humbly
about
her
,
muttering
to
herself
,
as
she
recognised
her
old
features
and
expression
more
and
more
.
`
You
are
very
poor
,
mother
,
I
see
,
´
said
Alice
,
looking
round
,
when
she
had
sat
thus
for
some
time
.
`
Bitter
poor
,
my
deary
,
´
replied
the
old
woman
.
She
admired
her
daughter
,
and
was
afraid
of
her
.
Perhaps
her
admiration
,
such
as
it
was
,
had
originated
long
ago
,
when
she
first
found
anything
that
was
beautiful
appearing
in
the
midst
of
the
squalid
fight
of
her
existence
.
Perhaps
her
fear
was
referable
,
in
some
sort
,
to
the
retrospect
she
had
so
lately
heard
.
Be
this
as
it
might
,
she
stood
,
submissively
and
deferentially
,
before
her
child
,
and
inclined
her
head
,
as
if
in
a
pitiful
entreaty
to
be
spared
any
further
reproach
.
`
How
have
you
lived
?
´
`
By
begging
,
my
deary
.
´
`
And
pilfering
,
mother
?
´
`
Sometimes
,
Ally
—
in
a
very
small
way
.
I
am
old
and
timid
.
I
have
taken
trifles
from
children
now
and
then
,
my
deary
,
but
not
often
.
I
have
tramped
about
the
country
,
pet
,
and
I
know
what
I
know
.
I
have
watched
.
´
`
Watched
?
´
returned
the
daughter
,
looking
at
her
.
`
I
have
hung
about
a
family
,
my
deary
,
´
said
the
mother
,
even
more
humbly
and
submissively
than
before
.
`
What
family
?
´
`
Hush
,
darling
,
Do
n't
be
angry
with
me
,
I
did
it
for
the
love
of
you
.
In
memory
of
my
poor
gal
beyond
seas
.
´
She
put
out
her
hand
deprecatingly
,
and
drawing
it
back
again
,
laid
it
on
her
lips
.
`
Years
ago
,
my
deary
,
´
she
pursued
,
glancing
timidly
at
the
attentive
and
stern
face
opposed
to
her
.
`
I
came
across
his
little
child
,
by
chance
.
´
`
Whose
child
?
´
`
Not
his
,
Alice
deary
;
do
n't
look
at
me
like
that
;
not
his
.
How
could
it
be
his
?
You
know
he
has
none
.
´
`
Whose
then
?
´
returned
the
daughter
.
`
You
said
his
.
´
`
Hush
,
Ally
;
you
frighten
me
,
deary
.
Mr.
Dombey
's
—
only
Mr.
Dombey
's
.
Since
then
,
darling
,
I
have
seen
them
often
.
I
have
seen
him
.
´
In
uttering
his
last
word
,
the
old
woman
shrunk
and
recoiled
,
as
if
with
a
sudden
fear
that
her
daughter
would
strike
her
.
But
though
the
daughter
's
face
was
fixed
upon
her
,
and
expressed
the
most
vehement
passion
,
she
remained
still
:
except
that
she
clenched
her
arms
tighter
and
tighter
within
each
other
,
on
her
bosom
,
as
if
to
restrain
them
by
that
means
from
doing
an
injury
to
herself
,
or
some
one
else
,
in
the
blind
fury
of
the
wrath
that
suddenly
possessed
her
.
`
Little
he
thought
who
I
was
!
´
said
the
old
woman
,
shaking
her
clenched
hand
.
`
And
little
he
cared
!
´
muttered
her
daughter
,
between
her
teeth
.
`
But
there
we
were
,
´
said
the
old
woman
,
`
face
to
face
.
I
spoke
to
him
,
and
he
spoke
to
me
.
I
sat
and
watched
him
as
he
went
away
down
a
long
grove
of
trees
:
and
at
every
step
he
took
,
I
cursed
him
soul
and
body
.
´
`
He
will
thrive
in
spite
of
that
,
´
returned
the
daughter
disdainfully
.
`
Aye
,
he
is
thriving
,
´
said
the
mother
.
She
held
her
peace
;
for
the
face
and
form
before
her
were
unshaped
by
range
.
It
seemed
as
if
the
bosom
would
burst
with
the
emotions
that
strove
within
it
.
The
effort
that
constrained
and
held
it
pent
up
,
was
no
less
formidable
than
the
rage
itself
:
no
less
bespeaking
the
violent
and
dangerous
character
of
the
woman
who
made
it
.
But
it
succeeded
,
and
she
asked
,
after
a
silence
:
`
Is
he
married
?
´
`
No
,
deary
,
´
said
the
mother
.
`
Going
to
be
?
´
`
Not
that
I
know
of
,
deary
.
But
his
master
and
friend
is
married
.
Oh
,
we
may
give
him
joy
!
We
may
give
'
em
all
joy
!
´
cried
the
old
woman
,
hugging
herself
with
her
lean
arms
in
her
exultation
.
`
Nothing
but
joy
to
us
will
come
of
that
marriage
.
Mind
me
!
´
The
daughter
looked
at
her
for
an
explanation
.
`
But
you
are
wet
and
tired
:
hungry
and
thirsty
,
´
said
the
old
woman
,
hobbling
to
the
cupboard
;
`
and
there
's
little
here
,
and
little
'
—
diving
down
into
her
pocket
,
and
jingling
a
few
half-pence
on
the
table
—
`
little
here
.
Have
you
any
money
,
Alice
,
deary
?
´
The
covetous
,
sharp
,
eager
face
with
which
she
asked
the
question
and
looked
on
,
as
her
daughter
took
out
of
her
bosom
the
little
gift
she
had
so
lately
received
,
told
almost
as
much
of
the
history
of
this
parent
and
child
as
the
child
herself
had
told
in
words
.
`
Is
that
all
?
´
said
the
mother
.
`
I
have
no
more
.
I
should
not
have
this
,
but
for
charity
.
´
`
But
for
charity
,
eh
,
deary
?
´
said
the
old
woman
,
bending
greedily
over
the
table
to
look
at
the
money
,
which
she
appeared
distrustful
of
her
daughter
's
still
retaining
in
her
hand
,
and
gazing
on
.
`
Humph
!
six
and
six
is
twelve
,
and
six
eighteen
—
so
—
we
must
take
the
most
of
it
.
I
'll
go
buy
something
to
eat
and
drink
.
´
With
greater
alacrity
than
might
have
been
expected
in
one
of
her
appearance
—
for
age
and
misery
seemed
to
have
made
her
as
decrepit
as
ugly
—
she
began
to
occupy
her
trembling
hands
in
tying
an
old
bonnet
on
her
head
,
and
folding
a
torn
shawl
about
herself
:
still
eyeing
the
money
in
her
daughter
's
hand
,
with
the
same
sharp
desire
.
`
What
joy
is
to
come
to
us
of
this
marriage
,
mother
?
´
asked
the
daughter
.
`
You
have
not
told
me
that
.
´
`
The
joy
,
´
she
replied
,
attiring
herself
,
with
fumbling
fingers
,
`
of
no
love
at
all
,
and
much
pride
and
hate
,
my
deary
.
The
joy
of
confusion
and
strife
among
'
em
,
proud
as
they
are
,
and
of
daughter-danger
,
Alice
!
´
`
What
danger
?
´
`
I
have
seen
what
I
have
seen
.
I
know
what
I
know
!
´
chuckled
the
mother
.
`
Let
some
look
to
it
.
Let
some
be
upon
their
guard
.
My
gal
may
keep
good
company
yet
!
´
Then
,
seeing
that
in
the
wondering
earnestness
with
which
her
daughter
regarded
her
,
her
hand
involuntarily
closed
upon
the
money
,
the
old
woman
made
more
speed
to
secure
it
,
and
hurriedly
added
,
`
but
I
'll
go
buy
something
;
I
'll
go
buy
something
.
´
As
she
stood
with
her
hand
stretched
out
before
her
daughter
,
her
daughter
,
glancing
again
at
the
money
,
put
it
to
her
lips
before
parting
with
it
.
`
What
,
Ally
!
Do
you
kiss
it
?
´
chuckled
the
old
woman
.
`
That
's
like
me
—
I
often
do
,
Oh
,
it
's
so
good
to
us
!
´
squeezing
her
own
tarnished
halfpence
up
to
her
bag
of
a
throat
,
`
so
good
to
us
in
everything
but
not
coming
in
heaps
!
´
`
I
kiss
it
,
mother
,
´
said
the
daughter
,
`
or
I
did
then
—
I
do
n't
know
that
I
ever
did
before
—
for
the
giver
's
sake
.
´
`
The
giver
,
eh
,
deary
?
´
retorted
the
old
woman
,
whose
dimmed
eyes
glistened
as
she
took
it
.
`
Aye
!
I
'll
kiss
it
for
the
giver
's
sake
,
too
,
when
the
giver
can
make
it
go
farther
.
But
I
'll
go
spend
it
,
deary
.
I
'll
be
back
directly
.
´
`
You
seem
to
say
you
know
a
great
deal
,
mother
,
´
said
the
daughter
,
following
her
to
the
door
with
her
eyes
.
`
You
have
grown
very
wise
since
we
parted
.
´
`
Know
!
´
croaked
the
old
woman
,
coming
back
a
step
or
two
,
`
I
know
more
than
you
think
.
I
know
more
than
he
thinks
,
deary
,
as
I
'll
tell
you
by
and
bye
.
I
know
all
about
him
.
´
The
daughter
smiled
incredulously
.
`
I
know
of
his
brother
,
Alice
,
´
said
the
old
woman
,
stretching
out
her
neck
with
a
leer
of
malice
absolutely
frightful
,
`
who
might
have
been
where
you
have
been
—
for
stealing
money
—
and
who
lives
with
his
sister
,
over
yonder
,
by
the
north
road
out
of
London
.
´
`
Where
?
´
`
By
the
north
road
out
of
London
,
deary
.
You
shall
see
the
house
if
you
like
.
It
a
n't
much
to
boast
of
,
genteel
as
his
own
is
.
No
,
no
,
no
,
´
cried
the
old
woman
,
shaking
her
head
and
laughing
;
for
her
daughter
had
started
up
,
`
not
now
;
it
's
too
far
off
;
it
's
by
the
milestone
,
where
the
stones
are
heaped
;
—
to-morrow
,
deary
,
if
it
's
fine
,
and
you
are
in
the
humour
.
But
I
'll
go
spend
—
´
`
Stop
!
´
and
the
daughter
flung
herself
upon
her
,
with
her
former
passion
raging
like
a
fire
.
`
The
sister
is
a
fair-faced
Devil
,
with
brown
hair
?
´
The
old
woman
,
amazed
and
terrified
,
nodded
her
head
.
`
I
see
the
shadow
of
him
in
her
face
!
It
's
a
red
house
standing
by
itself
.
Before
the
door
there
is
a
small
green
porch
.
´
Again
the
old
woman
nodded
.
`
In
which
I
sat
to-day
!
Give
me
back
the
money
.
´
`
Alice
!
Deary
!
´
`
Give
me
back
the
money
,
or
you
'll
be
hurt
.
´
She
forced
it
from
the
old
woman
's
hand
as
she
spoke
,
and
utterly
indifferent
to
her
complainings
and
entreaties
,
threw
on
the
garments
she
had
taken
of
,
and
hurried
out
,
with
headlong
speed
.
The
mother
followed
,
limping
after
her
as
she
could
,
and
expostulating
with
no
more
effect
upon
her
than
upon
the
wind
and
rain
and
darkness
that
encompassed
them
.
Obdurate
and
fierce
in
her
own
purpose
,
and
indifferent
to
all
besides
,
the
daughter
defied
the
weather
and
the
distance
,
as
if
she
had
known
no
travel
or
fatigue
,
and
made
for
the
house
where
she
had
been
relieved
.
After
some
quarter
of
an
hour
's
walking
,
the
old
woman
,
spent
and
out
of
breath
,
ventured
to
hold
by
her
skirts
;
but
she
ventured
no
more
,
and
they
travelled
on
in
silence
through
the
wet
and
gloom
.
If
the
mother
now
and
then
uttered
a
word
of
complaint
,
she
stifled
it
lest
her
daughter
should
break
away
from
her
and
leave
her
behind
;
and
the
daughter
was
dumb
.
It
was
within
an
hour
or
so
of
midnight
,
when
they
left
the
regular
streets
behind
them
,
and
entered
on
the
deeper
gloom
of
that
neutral
ground
where
the
house
was
situated
.
The
town
lay
in
the
distance
,
lurid
and
lowering
;
the
bleak
wind
howled
over
the
open
space
;
all
around
was
black
,
wild
,
desolate
.
`
This
is
a
fit
place
for
me
!
´
said
the
daughter
,
stopping
to
look
back
.
`
I
thought
so
,
when
I
was
here
before
,
to-day
.
´
`
Alice
,
my
deary
,
´
cried
the
mother
,
pulling
her
gently
by
the
skirt
.
`
Alice
!
´
`
What
now
,
mother
?
´
`
Do
n't
give
the
money
back
,
my
darling
;
please
do
n't
.
We
ca
n't
afford
it
.
We
want
supper
,
deary
.
Money
is
money
,
whoever
gives
it
.
Say
what
you
will
,
but
keep
the
money
.
´
`
See
there
!
´
was
all
the
daughter
's
answer
.
`
That
is
the
house
I
mean
.
Is
that
it
?
´
The
old
woman
nodded
in
the
affirmative
;
and
a
few
more
paces
brought
them
to
the
threshold
.
There
was
the
light
of
fire
and
candle
in
the
room
where
Alice
had
sat
to
dry
her
clothes
;
and
on
her
knocking
at
the
door
,
John
Carker
appeared
from
that
room
.
He
was
surprised
to
see
such
visitors
at
such
an
hour
,
and
asked
Alice
what
she
wanted
.
`
I
want
your
sister
,
´
she
said
.
`
The
woman
who
gave
me
money
to-day
.
´
At
the
sound
of
her
raised
voice
,
Harriet
came
out
.
`
Oh
!
´
said
Alice
.
`
You
are
here
!
Do
you
remember
me
?
´
`
Yes
,
´
she
answered
,
wondering
.
The
face
that
had
humbled
itself
before
her
,
looked
on
her
now
with
such
invincible
hatred
and
defiance
;
and
the
hand
that
had
gently
touched
her
arm
,
was
clenched
with
such
a
show
of
evil
purpose
,
as
if
it
would
gladly
strangle
her
;
that
she
drew
close
to
her
brother
for
protection
.
`
That
I
could
speak
with
you
,
and
not
know
you
!
That
I
could
come
near
you
,
and
not
feel
what
blood
was
running
in
your
veins
,
by
the
tingling
of
my
own
!
´
said
Alice
,
with
a
menacing
gesture
.
`
What
do
you
mean
?
What
have
I
done
?
´
`
Done
!
´
returned
the
other
.
`
You
have
sat
me
by
your
fire
;
you
have
given
me
food
and
money
;
you
have
bestowed
your
compassion
on
me
!
You
!
whose
name
I
spit
upon
!
´
The
old
woman
,
with
a
malevolence
that
made
her
ugliness
quite
awful
,
shook
her
withered
hand
at
the
brother
and
sister
in
confirmation
of
her
daughter
,
but
plucked
her
by
the
skirts
again
,
nevertheless
,
imploring
her
to
keep
the
money
.
`
If
I
dropped
a
tear
upon
your
hand
,
may
it
wither
it
up
!
If
I
spoke
a
gentle
word
in
your
hearing
,
may
it
deafen
you
!
If
I
touched
you
with
my
lips
,
may
the
touch
be
poison
to
you
!
A
curse
upon
this
roof
that
gave
me
shelter
!
Sorrow
and
shame
upon
your
head
!
Ruin
upon
all
belonging
to
you
!
´
As
she
said
the
words
,
she
threw
the
money
down
upon
the
ground
,
and
spurned
it
with
her
foot
.
`
I
tread
it
in
the
dust
:
I
would
n't
take
it
if
it
paved
my
way
to
Heaven
!
I
would
the
bleeding
foot
that
brought
me
here
to-day
,
had
rotted
off
,
before
it
led
me
to
your
house
!
´
Harriet
,
pale
and
trembling
,
restrained
her
brother
,
and
suffered
her
to
go
on
uninterrupted
.
`
It
was
well
that
I
should
be
pitied
and
forgiven
by
you
,
or
any
one
of
your
name
,
in
the
first
hour
of
my
return
!
It
was
well
that
you
should
act
the
kind
good
lady
to
me
!
I
'll
thank
you
when
I
die
;
I
'll
pray
for
you
,
and
all
your
race
,
you
may
be
sure
!
´
With
a
fierce
action
of
her
hand
,
as
if
she
sprinkled
hatred
on
the
ground
,
and
with
it
devoted
those
who
were
standing
there
to
destruction
,
she
looked
up
once
at
the
black
sky
,
and
strode
out
into
the
wild
night
.
The
mother
,
who
had
plucked
at
her
skirts
again
and
again
in
vain
,
and
had
eyed
the
money
lying
on
the
threshold
with
an
absorbing
greed
that
seemed
to
concentrate
her
faculties
upon
it
,
would
have
prowled
about
,
until
the
house
was
dark
,
and
then
groped
in
the
mire
on
the
chance
of
repossessing
herself
of
it
.
But
the
daughter
drew
her
away
,
and
they
set
forth
,
straight
,
on
their
return
to
their
dwelling
;
the
old
woman
whimpering
and
bemoaning
their
loss
upon
the
road
,
are
fretfully
bewailing
,
as
openly
as
she
dared
,
the
undutiful
conduct
of
her
handsome
girl
in
depriving
her
of
a
supper
,
on
the
very
first
night
of
their
reunion
.
Supperless
to
bed
she
went
,
saving
for
a
few
coarse
fragments
;
and
those
she
sat
mumbling
and
munching
over
a
scrap
of
fire
,
long
after
her
undutiful
daughter
lay
asleep
.
Were
this
miserable
mother
,
and
this
miserable
daughter
,
only
the
reduction
to
their
lowest
grade
,
of
certain
social
vices
sometimes
prevailing
higher
up
?
In
this
round
world
of
many
circles
within
circles
,
do
we
make
a
weary
journey
from
the
high
grade
to
the
low
,
to
find
at
last
that
they
lie
close
together
,
that
the
two
extremes
touch
,
and
that
our
journey
's
end
is
but
our
starting-place
?
Allowing
for
great
difference
of
stuff
and
texture
,
was
the
pattern
of
this
woof
repeated
among
gentle
blood
at
all
?
Say
,
Edith
Dombey
!
And
Cleopatra
,
best
of
mothers
,
let
us
have
your
testimony
!
CHAPTER
XXXV
The
Happy
Pair
THE
dark
blot
on
the
street
is
gone
.
Mr.
Dombey
's
mansion
,
if
it
be
a
gap
among
the
other
houses
any
longer
,
is
only
so
because
it
is
not
to
be
vied
with
in
its
brightness
,
and
haughtily
casts
them
off
.
The
saying
is
,
that
home
is
home
,
be
it
never
so
homely
.
If
it
hold
good
in
the
opposite
contingency
,
and
home
is
home
be
it
never
so
stately
,
what
an
altar
to
the
Household
Gods
is
raised
up
here
!
Lights
are
sparkling
in
the
windows
this
evening
,
and
the
ruddy
glow
of
fires
is
warm
and
bright
upon
the
hangings
and
soft
carpets
,
and
the
dinner
waits
to
be
served
,
and
the
dinnertable
is
handsomely
set
forth
,
though
only
for
four
persons
,
and
the
sideboard
is
cumbrous
with
plate
.
It
is
the
first
time
that
the
house
has
been
arranged
for
occupation
since
its
late
changes
,
and
the
happy
pair
are
looked
for
every
minute
.
Only
second
to
the
wedding
morning
,
in
the
interest
and
expectation
it
engenders
among
the
household
,
is
this
evening
of
the
coming
home
.
Mrs.
Perch
is
in
the
kitchen
taking
tea
;
and
has
made
the
tour
of
the
establishment
,
and
priced
the
silks
and
damasks
by
the
yard
,
and
exhausted
every
interjection
in
the
dictionary
and
out
of
it
expressive
of
admiration
and
wonder
.
The
upholsterer
's
foreman
,
who
has
left
his
hat
,
with
a
pocket-handkerchief
in
it
,
both
smelling
strongly
of
varnish
,
under
a
chair
in
the
hall
,
lurks
about
the
house
,
gazing
upwards
at
the
cornices
,
and
downward
at
the
carpets
,
and
occasionally
,
in
a
silent
transport
of
enjoyment
,
taking
a
rule
out
of
his
pocket
,
and
skirmishingly
measuring
expensive
objects
,
with
unutterable
feelings
.
Cook
is
in
high
spirits
,
and
says
give
her
a
place
where
there
's
plenty
of
company
(
as
she
'll
bet
you
sixpence
there
will
be
now
)
,
for
she
is
of
a
lively
disposition
,
and
she
always
was
from
a
child
,
and
she
do
n't
mind
who
knows
it
;
which
sentiment
elicits
from
the
breast
of
Mrs.
Perch
a
responsive
murmur
of
support
and
approbation
.
All
the
housemaid
hopes
is
,
happiness
for
'
em
—
but
marriage
is
a
lottery
,
and
the
more
she
thinks
about
it
,
the
more
she
feels
the
independence
and
the
safety
of
a
single
life
.
Mr.
Towlinson
is
saturnine
and
grim
,
and
says
that
's
his
opinion
too
,
and
give
him
War
besides
,
and
down
with
the
French
—
for
this
young
man
has
a
general
impression
that
every
foreigner
is
a
Frenchman
and
must
be
by
the
laws
of
nature
.
At
each
new
sound
of
wheels
,
they
all
stop
,
whatever
they
are
saying
,
and
listen
;
and
more
than
once
there
is
a
general
starting
up
and
a
cry
of
`
Here
they
are
!
'
But
here
they
are
not
yet
;
and
Cook
begins
to
mourn
over
the
dinner
,
which
has
been
put
back
twice
,
and
the
upholsterer
's
foreman
still
goes
lurking
about
the
rooms
,
undisturbed
in
his
blissful
reverie
!
Florence
is
ready
to
receive
her
father
and
her
new
mama
.
Whether
the
emotions
that
are
throbbing
in
her
breast
originate
in
pleasure
or
in
pain
,
she
hardly
knows
.
But
the
fluttering
heart
sends
added
colour
to
her
cheeks
,
and
brightness
to
her
eyes
;
and
they
say
down
stairs
,
drawing
their
heads
together
—
for
they
always
speak
softly
when
they
speak
of
her
—
how
beautiful
Miss
Florence
looks
to-night
,
and
what
a
sweet
young
lady
she
has
grown
,
poor
dear
!
A
pause
succeeds
;
and
then
Cook
,
feeling
,
as
president
,
that
her
sentiments
are
waited
for
,
wonders
whether
—
and
there
stops
.
The
housemaid
wonders
too
,
and
so
does
Mrs.
Perch
,
who
has
the
happy
social
faculty
of
always
wondering
when
other
people
wonder
,
without
being
at
all
particular
what
she
wonders
at
.
Mr.
Towlinson
,
who
now
descries
an
opportunity
of
bringing
down
the
spirits
of
the
ladies
to
his
own
level
,
says
wait
and
see
;
he
wishes
some
people
were
well
out
of
this
.
Cook
leads
a
sigh
then
,
and
a
murmur
of
`
Ah
,
it
's
a
strange
world
,
it
is
indeed
!
´
and
when
it
has
gone
round
the
table
,
adds
persuasively
,
`
but
Miss
Florence
ca
n't
well
be
the
worse
for
any
change
,
Tom
.
´
Mr.
Towlinson
's
rejoinder
,
pregnant
with
frightful
meaning
,
is
`
Oh
,
ca
n't
she
though
!
´
and
sensible
that
a
mere
man
can
scarcely
be
more
prophetic
,
or
improve
upon
that
,
he
holds
his
peace
.
Mrs.
Skewton
,
prepared
to
greet
her
darling
daughter
and
dear
son-in-law
with
open
arms
,
is
appropriately
attired
for
that
purpose
in
a
very
youthful
costume
,
with
short
sleeves
.
At
present
,
however
,
her
ripe
charms
are
blooming
in
the
shade
of
her
own
apartments
,
whence
she
has
not
emerged
since
she
took
possession
of
them
a
few
hours
ago
,
and
where
she
is
fast
growing
fretful
,
on
account
of
the
postponement
of
dinner
.
The
maid
who
ought
to
be
a
skeleton
,
but
is
in
truth
a
buxom
damsel
,
is
,
on
the
other
hand
,
in
a
most
amiable
state
:
considering
her
quarterly
stipend
much
safer
than
heretofore
,
and
foreseeing
a
great
improvement
in
her
board
and
lodging
.
Where
are
the
happy
pair
,
for
whom
this
brave
home
is
waiting
?
Do
steam
,
tide
,
wind
,
and
horses
,
all
abate
their
speed
,
to
linger
on
such
happiness
?
Does
the
swarm
of
loves
and
graces
hovering
about
them
retard
their
progress
by
its
numbers
?
Are
there
so
many
flowers
in
their
happy
path
,
that
they
can
scarcely
move
along
,
without
entanglement
in
thornless
roses
,
and
sweetest
briar
?
They
are
here
at
last
!
The
noise
of
wheels
is
heard
,
grows
louder
,
and
a
carriage
drives
up
to
the
door
!
A
thundering
knock
from
the
obnoxious
foreigner
anticipates
the
rush
of
Mr.
Towlinson
and
party
to
open
it
;
and
Mr.
Dombey
and
his
bride
alight
,
and
walk
in
arm
in
arm
.
`
My
sweetest
Edith
!
´
cries
an
agitated
voice
upon
the
stairs
.
`
My
dearest
Dombey
!
´
and
the
short
sleeves
wreath
themselves
about
the
happy
couple
in
turn
,
and
embrace
them
.
Florence
had
come
down
to
the
hall
too
,
but
did
not
advance
:
reserving
her
timid
welcome
until
these
nearer
and
dearer
transports
should
subside
.
But
the
eyes
of
Edith
sought
her
out
,
upon
the
threshold
;
and
dismissing
her
sensitive
parent
with
a
slight
kiss
on
the
cheek
,
she
hurried
on
to
Florence
and
embraced
her
.
`
How
do
you
do
,
Florence
?
´
said
Mr.
Dombey
,
putting
out
his
hand
.
As
Florence
,
trembling
,
raised
it
to
her
lips
,
she
met
his
glance
.
The
look
was
cold
and
distant
enough
,
but
it
stirred
her
heart
to
think
that
she
observed
in
it
something
more
of
interest
than
he
had
ever
shown
before
.
It
even
expressed
a
kind
of
faint
surprise
,
and
not
a
disagreeable
surprise
,
at
sight
of
her
.
She
dared
not
raise
her
eyes
to
his
any
more
;
but
she
felt
that
he
looked
at
her
once
again
,
and
hot
less
favourably
.
Oh
what
a
thrill
of
joy
shot
through
her
,
awakened
by
even
this
intangible
and
baseless
confirmation
of
her
hope
that
she
would
learn
to
win
him
,
through
her
new
and
beautiful
mama
!
`
You
will
not
be
long
dressing
,
Mrs.
Dombey
,
I
presume
?
´
said
Mr.
Dombey
.
`
I
shall
be
ready
immediately
.
´
`
Let
them
send
up
dinner
in
a
quarter
of
an
hour
.
´
With
that
Mr.
Dombey
stalked
away
to
his
own
dressingroom
,
and
Mrs.
Dombey
went
upstairs
to
hers
.
Mrs.
Skewton
and
Florence
repaired
to
the
drawing-room
,
where
that
excellent
mother
considered
it
incumbent
on
her
to
shed
a
few
irrepressible
tears
,
supposed
to
be
forced
from
her
by
her
daughter
's
felicity
;
and
which
she
was
still
drying
,
very
gingerly
,
with
a
laced
corner
of
her
pocket-handkerchief
,
when
her
son-in-law
appeared
.
`
And
how
,
my
dearest
Dombey
,
did
you
find
that
delightfullest
of
cities
,
Paris
?
'
she
asked
,
subduing
her
emotion
.
`
It
was
cold
,
´
returned
Mr.
Dombey
.
`
Gay
as
ever
,
´
said
Mrs.
Skewton
,
`
of
course
.
´
`
Not
particularly
.
I
thought
it
dull
,
´
said
Mr.
Dombey
.
`
Fie
,
my
dearest
Dombey
!
´
archly
;
`
dull
!
´
`
It
made
that
impression
upon
me
,
madam
,
´
said
Mr.
Dombey
,
with
grave
politeness
.
`
I
believe
Mrs.
Dombey
found
it
dull
too
.
She
mentioned
once
or
twice
that
she
thought
it
so
.
´
`
Why
,
you
naughty
girl
!
´
cried
Mrs.
Skewton
,
rallying
her
dear
child
,
who
now
entered
,
`
what
dreadfully
heretical
things
have
you
been
saying
about
Paris
?
´
Edith
raised
her
eyebrows
with
an
air
of
weariness
;
and
passing
the
folding-doors
which
were
thrown
open
to
display
the
suite
of
rooms
in
their
new
and
handsome
garniture
,
and
barely
glancing
at
them
as
she
passed
,
sat
down
by
Florence
.
`
My
dear
Dombey
,
´
said
Mrs.
Skewton
,
`
how
charmingly
these
people
have
carried
out
every
idea
that
we
hinted
.
They
have
made
a
perfect
palace
of
the
house
,
positively
.
´
`
It
is
handsome
,
´
said
Mr.
Dombey
,
looking
round
.
`
I
directed
that
no
expense
should
be
spared
;
and
all
that
money
could
do
,
has
been
done
,
I
believe
.
´
`
And
what
can
it
not
do
,
dear
Dombey
?
´
observed
Cleopatra
.
`
It
is
powerful
,
madam
,
´
said
Mr.
Dombey
.
He
looked
in
his
solemn
way
towards
his
wife
,
but
not
a
word
said
she
.
`
I
hope
,
Mrs.
Dombey
,
´
addressing
her
after
a
moment
's
silence
,
with
especial
distinctness
;
`
that
these
alterations
meet
with
your
approval
?
´
`
They
are
as
handsome
as
they
can
be
,
´
she
returned
,
with
haughty
carelessness
.
`
They
should
be
so
,
of
course
.
And
I
suppose
they
are
.
´
An
expression
of
scorn
was
habitual
to
the
proud
face
,
and
seemed
inseparable
from
it
;
but
the
contempt
with
which
it
received
any
appeal
to
admiration
,
respect
,
or
consideration
on
the
ground
of
his
riches
,
no
matter
how
slight
or
ordinary
in
itself
,
was
a
new
and
different
expression
,
unequalled
in
intensity
by
any
other
of
which
it
was
capable
.
Whether
Mr.
Dombey
,
wrapped
in
his
own
greatness
,
was
at
all
aware
of
this
,
or
no
,
there
had
not
been
wanting
opportunities
already
for
his
complete
enlightenment
;
and
at
that
moment
it
might
have
been
effected
by
the
one
glance
of
the
dark
eye
that
lighted
on
him
,
after
it
had
rapidly
and
scornfully
surveyed
the
theme
of
his
self-glorification
.
He
might
have
read
in
that
one
glance
that
nothing
that
his
wealth
could
do
,
though
it
were
increased
ten
thousand
fold
,
could
win
him
for
its
own
sake
,
one
look
of
softened
recognition
from
the
defiant
woman
,
linked
to
him
,
but
arrayed
with
her
whole
soul
against
him
.
He
might
have
read
in
that
one
glance
that
even
for
its
sordid
and
mercenary
influence
upon
herself
,
she
spurned
it
,
while
she
claimed
its
utmost
power
as
her
right
,
her
bargain
—
as
the
base
and
worthless
recompense
for
which
she
had
become
his
wife
.
He
might
have
read
in
it
that
,
ever
baring
her
own
head
for
the
lightning
of
her
own
contempt
and
pride
to
strike
,
the
most
innocent
allusion
to
the
power
of
his
riches
degraded
her
anew
,
sunk
her
deeper
in
her
own
respect
,
and
made
the
blight
and
waste
within
her
more
complete
.
But
dinner
was
announced
,
and
Mr.
Dombey
led
down
Cleopatra
;
Edith
and
his
daughter
following
.
Sweeping
past
the
gold
and
silver
demonstration
on
the
sideboard
as
if
it
were
heaped-up
dirt
,
and
deigning
to
bestow
no
look
upon
the
elegancies
around
her
,
she
took
her
place
at
his
board
for
the
first
time
,
and
sat
,
like
a
statue
,
at
the
feast
.
Mr.
Dombey
,
being
a
good
deal
in
the
statue
way
himself
,
was
well
enough
pleased
to
see
his
handsome
wife
immovable
and
proud
and
cold
.
Her
deportment
being
always
elegant
and
graceful
,
this
as
a
general
behavior
was
agreeable
and
congenial
to
him
.
Presiding
,
therefore
,
with
his
accustomed
dignity
,
and
not
at
all
reflecting
on
his
wife
by
any
warmth
or
hilarity
of
his
own
,
he
performed
his
share
of
the
honours
of
the
table
with
a
cool
satisfaction
;
and
the
installation
dinner
,
though
not
regarded
downstairs
as
a
great
success
,
or
very
promising
beginning
,
passed
off
,
above
,
in
a
sufficiently
polite
,
genteel
,
and
frosty
manner
.
Soon
after
tea
,
Mrs.
Skewton
,
who
affected
to
be
quite
overcome
and
worn
out
by
her
emotions
of
happiness
,
arising
in
the
contemplation
of
her
dear
child
united
to
the
man
of
her
heart
,
but
who
,
there
is
reason
to
suppose
,
found
this
family
party
somewhat
dull
,
as
she
yawned
for
one
hour
continually
behind
her
fan
,
retired
to
bed
.
Edith
,
also
,
silently
withdrew
and
came
back
no
more
.
Thus
,
it
happened
that
Florence
,
who
had
been
upstairs
to
have
some
conversation
with
Diogenes
,
returning
to
the
drawing-room
with
her
little
work-basket
,
found
no
one
there
but
her
father
,
who
was
walking
to
and
fro
,
in
dreary
magnificence
.
`
I
beg
your
pardon
.
Shall
I
go
away
,
papa
?
´
said
Florence
faintly
,
hesitating
at
the
door
.
`
No
,
´
returned
Mr.
Dombey
,
looking
round
over
his
shoulder
;
`
you
can
come
and
go
here
,
Florence
,
as
you
please
.
This
is
not
my
private
room
.
´
Florence
entered
,
and
sat
down
at
a
distant
little
table
with
her
work
:
finding
herself
for
the
first
time
in
her
life
—
for
the
very
first
time
within
her
memory
from
her
infancy
to
that
hour
—
alone
with
her
father
,
as
his
companion
.
She
,
his
natural
companion
,
his
only
child
,
who
in
her
lonely
life
and
grief
had
known
the
suffering
of
a
breaking
heart
;
who
,
in
her
rejected
love
,
had
never
breathed
his
name
to
God
at
night
,
but
with
a
tearful
blessing
,
heavier
on
him
than
a
curse
;
who
had
prayed
to
die
young
,
so
she
might
only
die
in
his
arms
;
who
had
,
all
through
,
repaid
the
agony
of
slight
and
coldness
,
and
dislike
,
with
patient
unexacting
love
,
excusing
him
,
and
pleading
for
him
,
like
his
better
angel
!
She
trembled
,
and
her
eyes
were
dim
.
His
figure
seemed
to
grow
in
height
and
bulk
before
her
as
he
paced
the
room
:
now
it
was
all
blurred
and
indistinct
;
now
clear
again
,
and
plain
;
and
now
she
seemed
to
think
that
this
had
happened
,
just
the
same
,
a
multitude
of
years
ago
.
She
yearned
towards
him
,
and
yet
shrunk
from
his
approach
.
Unnatural
emotion
in
a
child
,
innocent
of
wrong
!
Unnatural
the
hand
that
had
directed
the
sharp
plough
,
which
furrowed
up
her
gentle
nature
for
the
sowing
of
its
seeds
!
Bent
upon
not
distressing
or
offending
him
by
her
distress
,
Florence
controlled
herself
,
and
sat
quietly
at
her
work
.
After
a
few
more
turns
across
and
across
the
room
,
he
left
off
pacing
it
;
and
withdrawing
into
a
shadowy
corner
at
some
distance
,
where
there
was
an
easy
chair
,
covered
his
head
with
a
handkerchief
,
and
composed
himself
to
sleep
.
It
was
enough
for
Florence
to
sit
there
watching
him
;
turning
her
eyes
towards
his
chair
from
time
to
time
;
watching
him
with
her
thoughts
,
when
her
face
was
intent
upon
her
work
;
and
sorrowfully
glad
to
think
that
he
could
sleep
,
while
she
was
there
,
and
that
he
was
not
made
restless
by
her
strange
and
long-forbidden
presence
.
What
would
have
been
her
thoughts
if
she
had
known
that
he
was
steadily
regarding
her
;
that
the
veil
upon
his
face
,
by
accident
or
by
design
,
was
so
adjusted
that
his
sight
was
free
,
and
that
it
never
wandered
from
her
face
an
instant
!
That
when
she
looked
towards
him
,
in
the
obscure
dark
corner
,
her
speaking
eyes
,
more
earnest
and
pathetic
in
their
voiceless
speech
than
all
the
orators
of
all
the
world
,
and
impeaching
him
more
nearly
in
their
mute
address
,
met
his
,
and
did
not
know
it
!
That
when
she
bent
her
head
again
over
her
work
,
he
drew
his
breath
more
easily
,
but
with
the
same
attention
looked
upon
her
still
—
upon
her
white
brow
and
her
falling
hair
,
and
busy
hands
;
and
once
attracted
,
seemed
to
have
no
power
to
turn
his
eyes
away
!
And
what
were
his
thoughts
meanwhile
?
With
what
emotions
did
he
prolong
the
attentive
gaze
covertly
directed
on
his
unknown
daughter
?
Was
there
reproach
to
him
in
the
quiet
figure
and
the
mild
eyes
?
Had
he
begun
to
feel
her
disregarded
claims
,
and
did
they
touch
him
home
at
last
,
and
waken
him
to
some
sense
of
his
cruel
injustice
?
There
are
yielding
moments
in
the
lives
of
the
sternest
and
harshest
men
,
though
such
men
often
keep
their
secret
well
.
The
sight
of
her
in
her
beauty
,
almost
changed
into
a
woman
without
his
knowledge
,
may
have
struck
out
some
such
moments
even
in
his
life
of
pride
.
Some
passing
thought
that
he
had
had
a
happy
home
within
his
reach
—
had
had
a
household
spirit
bending
at
his
feet
—
had
overlooked
it
in
his
stiffnecked
sullen
arrogance
,
and
wandered
away
and
lost
himself
,
may
have
engendered
them
.
Some
simple
eloquence
distinctly
heard
,
though
only
uttered
in
her
eyes
,
unconscious
that
he
read
them
,
as
`
By
the
death-beds
I
have
tended
,
by
the
childhood
I
have
suffered
,
by
our
meeting
in
this
dreary
house
at
midnight
,
by
the
cry
wrung
from
me
in
the
anguish
of
my
heart
,
oh
,
father
,
turn
to
me
and
seek
a
refuge
in
my
love
before
it
is
too
late
!
´
may
have
arrested
them
.
Meaner
and
lower
thoughts
,
as
that
his
dead
boy
was
now
superseded
by
new
ties
,
and
he
could
forgive
the
having
been
supplanted
in
his
affection
,
may
have
occasioned
them
.
The
mere
association
of
her
as
an
ornament
,
with
all
the
ornament
and
pomp
about
him
,
may
have
been
sufficient
.
But
as
he
looked
,
he
softened
to
her
,
more
and
more
.
As
he
looked
,
she
became
blended
with
the
child
he
had
loved
,
and
he
could
hardly
separate
the
two
.
As
he
looked
,
he
saw
her
for
an
instant
by
a
clearer
and
a
brighter
light
,
not
bending
over
that
child
's
pillow
as
his
rival
—
monstrous
thought
—
but
as
the
spirit
of
his
home
,
and
in
the
action
tending
himself
no
less
,
as
he
sat
once
more
with
his
bowed-down
head
upon
his
hand
at
the
foot
of
the
little
bed
.
He
felt
inclined
to
speak
to
her
,
and
call
her
to
him
.
The
words
`
Florence
,
come
here
!
´
were
rising
to
his
lips
—
but
slowly
and
with
difficulty
,
they
were
so
very
strange
—
when
they
were
checked
and
stifled
by
a
footstep
on
the
stair
.
It
was
his
wife
's
.
She
had
exchanged
her
dinner
dress
for
a
loose
robe
,
and
unbound
her
hair
,
which
fell
freely
about
her
neck
.
But
this
was
not
the
change
in
her
that
startled
him
.
`
Florence
,
dear
,
´
she
said
,
`
I
have
been
looking
for
you
everywhere
.
´
As
she
sat
down
by
the
side
of
Florence
,
she
stooped
and
kissed
her
hand
.
He
hardly
knew
his
wife
.
She
was
so
changed
.
It
was
not
merely
that
her
smile
was
new
to
him
—
though
that
he
had
never
seen
:
but
her
manner
,
the
tone
of
her
voice
,
the
light
of
her
eyes
,
the
interest
,
and
confidence
,
and
winning
wish
to
please
,
expressed
in
all
—
this
was
not
Edith
.
`
Softly
,
dear
Mama
.
Papa
is
asleep
.
´
It
was
Edith
now
.
She
looked
towards
the
corner
where
he
was
,
and
he
knew
that
face
and
manner
very
well
.
`
I
scarcely
thought
you
could
be
here
,
Florence
.
´
Again
,
how
altered
and
how
softened
,
in
an
instant
!
`
I
left
here
early
,
´
pursued
Edith
,
`
purposely
to
sit
up
stairs
and
talk
with
you
.
But
,
going
to
your
room
,
I
found
my
bird
was
flown
,
and
I
have
been
waiting
there
ever
since
,
expecting
its
return
.
´
If
it
had
been
a
bird
,
indeed
,
she
could
not
have
taken
it
more
tenderly
and
gently
to
her
breast
,
than
she
did
Florence
.
`
Come
,
dear
!
´
`
Papa
will
not
expect
to
find
me
,
I
suppose
,
when
he
wakes
,
´
hesitated
Florence
.
`
Do
you
think
he
will
,
Florence
?
´
said
Edith
,
looking
full
upon
her
.
Florence
drooped
her
head
,
and
rose
,
and
put
up
her
workbasket
.
Edith
drew
her
hand
through
her
arm
,
and
they
went
out
of
the
room
like
sisters
.
Her
very
step
was
different
and
new
to
him
,
Mr.
Dombey
thought
,
as
his
eyes
followed
her
to
the
door
.
He
sat
in
his
shadowy
corner
so
long
,
that
the
church
clocks
struck
the
hour
three
times
before
he
moved
that
night
.
All
that
while
his
face
was
still
intent
upon
the
spot
where
Florence
had
been
seated
.
The
room
grew
darker
,
as
the
candles
waned
and
went
out
;
but
a
darkness
gathered
on
his
face
,
exceeding
any
that
the
night
could
cast
,
and
rested
there
.
Florence
and
Edith
,
seated
before
the
fire
in
the
remote
room
where
little
Paul
had
died
,
talked
together
for
a
long
time
.
Diogenes
,
who
was
of
the
party
,
had
at
first
objected
to
the
admission
of
Edith
,
and
,
even
in
deference
to
his
mistress
's
wish
,
had
only
permitted
it
under
growling
protest
.
But
,
emerging
by
little
and
little
from
the
ante-room
,
whither
he
had
retired
in
dudgeon
,
he
soon
appeared
to
comprehend
,
that
with
the
most
amiable
intensions
he
had
made
one
of
those
mistakes
which
will
occasionally
arise
in
the
best-regulated
dogs
´
minds
;
as
a
friendly
apology
for
which
he
stuck
himself
up
on
end
between
the
two
,
in
a
very
hot
place
in
front
of
the
fire
,
and
sat
panting
at
it
,
with
his
tongue
out
,
and
a
most
imbecile
expression
of
countenance
,
listening
to
the
conversation
.
It
turned
,
at
first
,
on
Florence
's
books
and
favourite
pursuits
,
and
on
the
manner
in
which
she
had
beguiled
the
interval
since
the
marriage
.
The
last
theme
opened
up
to
her
a
subject
which
lay
very
near
her
heart
,
and
she
said
,
with
the
tears
starting
to
her
eyes
:
`
Oh
,
Mama
!
I
have
had
a
great
sorrow
since
that
day
.
´
`
You
a
great
sorrow
,
Florence
!
´
`
Yes
.
Poor
Walter
is
drowned
.
´
Florence
spread
her
hands
before
her
face
,
and
wept
with
all
her
heart
.
Many
as
were
the
secret
tears
which
Walter
's
fate
had
cost
her
,
they
flowed
yet
,
when
she
thought
or
spoke
of
him
.
`
But
tell
me
,
dear
,
´
said
Edith
,
soothing
her
.
`
Who
was
Walter
?
What
was
he
to
you
?
´
`
He
was
my
brother
,
Mama
.
After
dear
Paul
died
,
we
said
we
would
be
brother
and
sister
.
I
had
known
him
a
long
time
—
from
a
little
child
.
He
knew
Paul
,
who
liked
him
very
much
;
Paul
said
,
almost
at
the
last
,
`
Take
care
of
Walter
,
dear
papa
!
I
was
fond
of
him
!
´
Walter
had
been
brought
in
to
see
him
,
and
was
there
then
—
in
this
room
.
´
`
And
did
he
take
care
of
Walter
?
´
inquired
Edith
,
sternly
.
`
Papa
?
He
appointed
him
to
go
abroad
.
He
was
drowned
in
shipwreck
on
his
voyage
,
'
said
Florence
,
sobbing
.
`
Does
he
know
that
he
is
dead
?
´
asked
Edith
.
`
I
cannot
tell
,
Mama
.
I
have
no
means
of
knowing
.
Dear
Mama
!
´
cried
Florence
,
clinging
to
her
as
for
help
,
and
hiding
her
face
upon
her
bosom
,
`
I
know
that
you
have
seen
—
´
`
Stay
!
Stop
,
Florence
.
´
Edith
turned
so
pale
,
and
spoke
so
earnestly
,
that
Florence
did
not
need
her
restraining
hand
upon
her
lips
.
`
Tell
me
all
about
Walter
first
;
let
me
understand
this
history
all
through
.
´
Florence
related
it
,
and
everything
belonging
to
it
,
even
down
to
the
friendship
of
Mr.
Toots
,
of
whom
she
could
hardly
speak
in
her
distress
without
a
tearful
smile
,
although
she
was
deeply
grateful
to
him
.
When
she
had
concluded
her
account
,
to
the
whole
of
which
Edith
,
holding
her
hand
,
listened
with
close
attention
,
and
when
a
silence
had
succeeded
,
Edith
said
:
`
What
is
it
that
you
know
I
have
seen
,
Florence
?
´
`
That
I
am
not
,
´
said
Florence
,
with
the
same
mute
appeal
,
and
the
same
quick
concealment
of
her
face
as
before
,
`
that
I
am
not
a
favourite
child
,
Mama
.
I
never
have
been
.
I
have
never
known
how
to
be
.
I
have
missed
the
way
,
and
had
no
one
to
show
it
to
me
.
Oh
,
let
me
learn
from
you
how
to
become
dearer
to
Papa
.
Teach
me
!
you
,
who
can
so
well
!
´
and
clinging
close
to
her
,
with
some
broken
fervent
words
of
gratitude
and
endearment
,
Florence
,
relived
of
her
sad
secret
,
wept
long
,
but
not
as
painfully
as
of
yore
,
within
the
encircling
arms
of
her
new
mother
.
Pale
even
to
her
lips
,
and
with
a
face
that
strove
for
composure
until
its
proud
beauty
was
as
fixed
as
death
,
Edith
looked
down
upon
the
weeping
girl
,
and
once
kissed
her
.
Then
gradually
disengaging
herself
,
and
putting
Florence
away
,
she
said
,
stately
,
and
quiet
as
a
marble
image
,
and
in
a
voice
that
deepened
as
she
spoke
,
but
had
no
other
token
of
emotion
in
it
:
`
Florence
,
you
do
not
know
me
!
Heaven
forbid
that
you
should
learn
from
me
!
´
`
Not
learn
from
you
?
´
repeated
Florence
,
in
surprise
.
`
That
I
should
teach
you
how
to
love
,
or
be
loved
,
Heaven
forbid
!
´
said
Edith
.
`
If
you
could
teach
me
,
that
were
better
;
but
it
is
too
late
.
You
are
dear
to
me
,
Florence
.
I
did
not
think
that
anything
could
ever
be
so
dear
to
me
,
as
you
are
in
this
little
time
.
´
She
saw
that
Florence
would
have
spoken
here
,
so
checked
her
with
her
hand
,
and
went
on
.
`
I
will
be
your
true
friend
always
.
I
will
cherish
you
,
as
much
,
if
not
as
well
as
any
one
in
this
world
could
.
You
may
trust
in
me
—
I
know
it
and
I
say
it
,
dear
,
—
with
the
whole
confidence
even
of
your
pure
heart
.
There
are
hosts
of
women
whom
he
might
have
married
,
better
and
truer
in
all
other
respects
than
I
am
,
Florence
;
but
there
is
not
one
who
could
come
here
,
his
wife
,
whose
heart
could
beat
with
greater
truth
to
you
than
mine
does
.
´
`
I
know
it
,
dear
Mama
!
´
cried
Florence
.
`
From
that
first
most
happy
day
I
have
known
it
.
´
`
Most
happy
day
!
´
Edith
seemed
to
repeat
the
words
involuntarily
,
and
went
on
.
`
Though
the
merit
is
not
mine
,
for
I
thought
little
of
you
until
I
saw
you
,
let
the
undeserved
reward
be
mine
in
your
trust
and
love
.
And
in
this
—
in
this
,
Florence
;
on
the
first
night
of
my
taking
up
my
abode
here
;
I
am
led
on
as
it
is
best
I
should
be
,
to
say
it
for
the
first
and
last
time
.
´
Florence
,
without
knowing
why
,
felt
almost
afraid
to
hear
her
proceed
,
but
kept
her
eyes
riveted
on
the
beautiful
face
so
fixed
upon
her
own
.
`
Never
seek
to
find
in
me
,
´
said
Edith
,
laying
her
hand
upon
her
breast
,
`
what
is
not
here
.
Never
if
you
can
help
it
,
Florence
,
fall
off
from
me
because
it
is
not
here
.
Little
by
little
you
will
know
me
better
,
and
the
time
will
come
when
you
will
know
me
,
as
I
know
myself
.
Then
,
be
as
lenient
to
me
as
you
can
,
and
do
not
turn
to
bitterness
the
only
sweet
remembrance
I
shall
have
.
´
The
tears
that
were
visible
in
her
eyes
as
she
kept
them
fixed
on
Florence
,
showed
that
the
composed
face
was
but
as
a
handsome
mask
;
but
she
preserved
it
,
and
continued
:
`
I
have
seen
what
you
say
,
and
know
how
true
it
is
.
But
believe
me
—
you
will
soon
,
if
you
cannot
now
—
there
is
no
one
on
this
earth
less
qualified
to
set
it
right
or
help
you
,
Florence
,
than
I
.
Never
ask
me
why
,
or
speak
to
me
about
it
or
of
my
husband
,
more
.
There
should
be
,
so
far
,
as
division
,
and
a
silence
between
us
two
,
like
the
grave
itself
.
´
She
sat
for
some
time
silent
;
Florence
scarcely
venturing
to
breathe
meanwhile
,
as
dim
and
imperfect
shadows
of
the
truth
,
and
all
its
daily
consequences
,
chased
each
other
through
her
terrified
,
yet
incredulous
imagination
.
Almost
as
soon
as
she
had
ceased
to
speak
,
Edith
's
face
began
to
subside
from
its
set
composure
to
that
quieter
and
more
relenting
aspect
,
which
it
usually
wore
when
she
and
Florence
were
alone
together
.
She
shaded
it
,
after
this
change
,
with
her
hands
;
and
when
she
arose
,
and
with
an
affectionate
embrace
bade
Florence
good
night
,
went
quickly
,
and
without
looking
round
.
But
when
Florence
was
in
bed
,
and
the
room
was
dark
except
for
the
glow
of
the
fire
,
Edith
returned
,
and
saying
that
she
could
not
sleep
,
and
that
her
dressing-room
was
lonely
,
drew
a
chair
upon
the
hearth
,
and
watched
the
embers
as
they
died
away
.
Florence
watched
them
too
from
her
bed
,
until
they
,
and
the
noble
figure
before
them
,
crowned
with
its
flowing
hair
,
and
in
its
thoughtful
eyes
reflecting
back
their
light
,
became
confused
and
indistinct
,
and
finally
were
lost
in
slumber
.
In
her
sleep
,
however
,
Florence
could
not
lose
an
undefined
impression
of
what
had
so
recently
passed
.
It
formed
the
subject
of
her
dreams
,
and
haunted
her
;
now
in
one
shape
,
now
in
another
;
but
always
oppressively
;
and
with
a
sense
of
fear
.
She
dreamed
of
seeking
her
father
in
wildernesses
,
of
following
his
track
up
fearful
heights
,
and
down
into
deep
mines
and
caverns
;
of
being
charged
with
something
that
would
release
him
from
extraordinary
suffering
—
she
knew
not
what
,
or
why
—
yet
never
being
able
to
attain
the
goal
and
set
him
free
.
Then
she
saw
him
dead
,
upon
that
very
bed
,
and
in
that
very
room
,
and
knew
that
he
had
never
loved
her
to
the
last
,
and
fell
upon
his
cold
breast
,
passionately
weeping
.
Then
a
prospect
opened
,
and
a
river
flowed
,
and
a
plaintive
voice
she
knew
,
cried
,
`
It
is
running
on
,
Floy
!
It
has
never
stopped
!
You
are
moving
with
it
!
´
And
she
saw
him
at
a
distance
stretching
out
his
arms
towards
her
,
while
a
figure
such
as
Walter
's
used
to
be
,
stood
near
him
,
awfully
serene
and
still
.
In
every
vision
,
Edith
came
and
went
,
sometimes
to
her
joy
,
sometimes
to
her
sorrow
,
until
they
were
along
upon
the
brink
of
a
dark
grave
,
and
Edith
pointing
down
,
she
looked
and
saw
—
what
!
—
another
Edith
lying
at
the
bottom
.
In
the
terror
of
this
dream
,
she
cried
out
and
awoke
,
she
thought
.
A
soft
voice
seemed
to
whisper
in
her
ear
,
`
Florence
,
dear
Florence
,
it
is
nothing
but
a
dream
!
´
and
stretching
out
her
arms
,
she
returned
the
caress
of
her
new
mama
,
who
then
went
out
at
the
door
in
the
light
of
the
grey
morning
.
In
a
moment
,
Florence
sat
up
wondering
whether
this
had
really
taken
place
or
not
;
but
she
was
only
certain
that
it
was
grey
morning
indeed
,
and
that
the
blackened
ashes
of
the
fire
were
on
the
hearth
,
and
that
she
was
alone
.
So
passed
the
night
on
which
the
happy
pair
came
home
.
CHAPTER
XXXVI
Housewarming
MANY
succeeding
days
passed
in
like
manner
;
except
that
there
were
numerous
visits
received
and
paid
,
and
that
Mrs.
Skewton
held
little
levees
in
her
own
apartments
,
at
which
Major
Bagstock
was
a
frequent
attendant
,
and
that
Florence
encountered
no
second
look
from
her
father
,
although
she
saw
him
every
day
.
Nor
had
she
much
communication
in
words
with
her
new
mama
,
who
was
imperious
and
proud
to
all
the
house
but
her
—
Florence
could
not
but
observe
that
—
and
who
,
although
she
always
sent
for
her
or
went
to
her
when
she
came
home
from
visiting
,
and
would
always
go
into
her
room
at
night
,
before
retiring
to
rest
,
however
late
the
hour
,
and
never
lost
an
opportunity
of
being
with
her
,
was
often
her
silent
and
thoughtful
companion
for
a
long
time
together
.
Florence
,
who
had
hoped
for
so
much
from
this
marriage
,
could
not
help
sometimes
comparing
the
bright
house
with
the
faded
dreary
place
out
of
which
it
had
arisen
,
and
wondering
when
,
in
any
shape
,
it
would
begin
to
be
a
home
;
for
that
it
was
no
home
then
,
for
any
one
,
though
everything
went
on
luxuriously
and
regularly
,
she
had
always
a
secret
misgiving
.
Many
an
hour
of
sorrowful
reflection
by
day
and
night
,
and
