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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 daresay,' 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 mommentary 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 didn'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.
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 won'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
daresay, 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.
Don'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 mind
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 didn'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 don'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 lapels,
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 alter 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 death-bed
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 couldn'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 couldn't speak so. I am
sure, at least, I couldn't feel like one.'
'Ay, 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, nor reddened as he did so, but looked
up at him with confidence and truth. In that one moment, every shadow of
doubt or agitation passed away from Walter's soul. It seemed to him that he
responded to her innocent appeal, beside the dead child's bed: and, in the
solemn presence he had seen there, pledged himself to cherish and protect
her very image, in his banishment, with brotherly regard; to garner up her
simple faith, inviolate; and hold himself degraded if he breathed upon it
any thought that was not in her own breast when she gave it to him.
Susan Nipper, who had bitten both her bonnet strings at once, and
imparted a great deal of private emotion to the skylight, during this
transaction, now changed the subject by inquiring who took milk and who took
sugar; and being enlightened on these points, poured out the tea. They all
four gathered socially about the little table, and took tea under that young
lady's active superintendence; and the presence of Florence in the back
parlour, brightened the Tartar frigate on the wall.
Half an hour ago Walter, for his life, would have hardly called her by
her name. But he could do so now when she entreated him. He could think of
her being there, without a lurking misgiving that it would have been better
if she had not come. He could calmly think how beautiful she was, how full
of promise, what a home some happy man would find in such a heart one day.
He could reflect upon his own place in that heart, with pride; and with a
brave determination, if not to deserve it - he still thought that far above
him - never to deserve it less
Some fairy influence must surely have hovered round the hands of Susan
Nipper when she made the tea, engendering the tranquil air that reigned in
the back parlour during its discussion. Some counter-influence must surely
have hovered round the hands of Uncle Sol's chronometer, and moved them
faster than the Tartar frigate ever went before the wind. Be this as it may,
the visitors had a coach in waiting at a quiet corner not far off; and the
chronometer, on being incidentally referred to, gave such a positive opinion
that it had been waiting a long time, that it was impossible to doubt the
fact, especially when stated on such unimpeachable authority. If Uncle Sol
had been going to be hanged by his own time, he never would have allowed
that the chronometer was too fast, by the least fraction of a second.
Florence at parting recapitulated to the old man all that she had said
before, and bound him to the compact. Uncle Sol attended her lovingly to the
legs of the wooden Midshipman, and there resigned her to Walter, who was
ready to escort her and Susan Nipper to the coach.
'Walter,' said Florence by the way, 'I have been afraid to ask before
your Uncle. Do you think you will be absent very long?'
'Indeed,' said Walter, 'I don't know. I fear so. Mr Dombey signified as
much, I thought, when he appointed me.'
'Is it a favour, Walter?' inquired Florence, after a moment's
hesitation, and looking anxiously in his face.
'The appointment?' returned Walter.
'Yes.'
Walter would have given anything to have answered in the affirmative,
but his face answered before his lips could, and Florence was too attentive
to it not to understand its reply.
'I am afraid you have scarcely been a favourite with Papa,' she said,
timidly.
'There is no reason,' replied Walter, smiling, 'why I should be.'
'No reason, Walter!'
'There was no reason,' said Walter, understanding what she meant.
'There are many people employed in the House. Between Mr Dombey and a young
man like me, there's a wide space of separation. If I do my duty, I do what
I ought, and do no more than all the rest.'
Had Florence any misgiving of which she was hardly conscious: any
misgiving that had sprung into an indistinct and undefined existence since
that recent night when she had gone down to her father's room: that Walter's
accidental interest in her, and early knowledge of her, might have involved
him in that powerful displeasure and dislike? Had Walter any such idea, or
any sudden thought that it was in her mind at that moment? Neither of them
hinted at it. Neither of them spoke at all, for some short time. Susan,
walking on the other side of Walter, eyed them both sharply; and certainly
Miss Nipper's thoughts travelled in that direction, and very confidently
too.
'You may come back very soon,' said Florence, 'perhaps, Walter.'
'I may come back,' said Walter, 'an old man, and find you an old lady.
But I hope for better things.'
'Papa,' said Florence, after a moment, 'will - will recover from his
grief, and - speak more freely to me one day, perhaps; and if he should, I
will tell him how much I wish to see you back again, and ask him to recall
you for my sake.'
There was a touching modulation in these words about her father, that
Walter understood too well.
The coach being close at hand, he would have left her without speaking,
for now he felt what parting was; but Florence held his hand when she was
seated, and then he found there was a little packet in her own.
'Walter,' she said, looking full upon him with her affectionate eyes,
'like you, I hope for better things. I will pray for them, and believe that
they will arrive. I made this little gift for Paul. Pray take it with my
love, and do not look at it until you are gone away. And now, God bless you,
Walter! never forget me. You are my brother, dear!'
He was glad that Susan Nipper came between them, or he might have left
her with a sorrowful remembrance of him. He was glad too that she did not
look out of the coach again, but waved the little hand to him instead, as
long as he could see it.
In spite of her request, he could not help opening the packet that
night when he went to bed. It was a little purse: and there was was money in
it.
Bright rose the sun next morning, from his absence in strange countries
and up rose Walter with it to receive the Captain, who was already at the
door: having turned out earlier than was necessary, in order to get under
weigh while Mrs MacStinger was still slumbering. The Captain pretended to be
in tip-top spirits, and brought a very smoky tongue in one of the pockets of
the of the broad blue coat for breakfast.
'And, Wal'r,' said the Captain, when they took their seats at table, if
your Uncle's the man I think him, he'll bring out the last bottle of the
Madeira on the present occasion.'
'No, no, Ned,' returned the old man. 'No! That shall be opened when
Walter comes home again.'
'Well said!' cried the Captain. 'Hear him!'
'There it lies,' said Sol Gills, 'down in the little cellar, covered
with dirt and cobwebs. There may be dirt and cobwebs over you and me
perhaps, Ned, before it sees the light.'
'Hear him! 'cried the Captain. 'Good morality! Wal'r, my lad. Train up
a fig-tree in the way it should go, and when you are old sit under the shade
on it. Overhaul the - Well,' said the Captain on second thoughts, 'I ain't
quite certain where that's to be found, but when found, make a note of. Sol
Gills, heave ahead again!'
'But there or somewhere, it shall lie, Ned, until Wally comes back to
claim it,' said the old man. 'That's all I meant to say.'
'And well said too,' returned the Captain; 'and if we three don't crack
that bottle in company, I'll give you two leave to.'
Notwithstanding the Captain's excessive joviality, he made but a poor
hand at the smoky tongue, though he tried very hard, when anybody looked at
him, to appear as if he were eating with a vast apetite. He was terribly
afraid, likewise, of being left alone with either Uncle or nephew; appearing
to consider that his only chance of safety as to keeping up appearances, was
in there being always three together. This terror on the part of the
Captain, reduced him to such ingenious evasions as running to the door, when
Solomon went to put his coat on, under pretence of having seen an
extraordinary hackney-coach pass: and darting out into the road when Walter
went upstairs to take leave of the lodgers, on a feint of smelling fire in a
neighbouring chimney. These artifices Captain Cuttle deemed inscrutable by
any uninspired observer.
Walter was coming down from his parting expedition upstairs, and was
crossing the shop to go back to the little parlour, when he saw a faded face
he knew, looking in at the door, and darted towards it.
'Mr Carker!' cried Walter, pressing the hand of John Carker the Junior.
'Pray come in! This is kind of you, to be here so early to say good-bye to
me. You knew how glad it would make me to shake hands with you, once, before
going away. I cannot say how glad I am to have this opportunity. Pray come
in.'
'It is not likely that we may ever meet again, Walter,' returned the
other, gently resisting his invitation, 'and I am glad of this opportunity
too. I may venture to speak to you, and to take you by the hand, on the eve
of separation. I shall not have to resist your frank approaches, Walter, any
more.
There was a melancholy in his smile as he said it, that showed he had
found some company and friendship for his thoughts even in that.
'Ah, Mr Carker!' returned Walter. 'Why did you resist them? You could
have done me nothing but good, I am very sure.
He shook his head. 'If there were any good,' he said, 'I could do on
this earth, I would do it, Walter, for you. The sight of you from day to
day, has been at once happiness and remorse to me. But the pleasure has
outweighed the pain. I know that, now, by knowing what I lose.'
'Come in, Mr Carker, and make acquaintance with my good old Uncle,'
urged Walter. 'I have often talked to him about you, and he will be glad to
tell you all he hears from me. I have not,' said Walter, noticing his
hesitation, and speaking with embarrassment himself: 'I have not told him
anything about our last conversation, Mr Carker; not even him, believe me.
The grey Junior pressed his hand, and tears rose in his eyes.
'If I ever make acquaintance with him, Walter,' he returned, 'it will
be that I may hear tidings of you. Rely on my not wronging your forbearance
and consideration. It would be to wrong it, not to tell him all the truth,
before I sought a word of confidence from him. But I have no friend or
acquaintance except you: and even for your sake, am little likely to make
any.'
'I wish,' said Walter, 'you had suffered me to be your friend indeed. I
always wished it, Mr Carker, as you know; but never half so much as now,
when we are going to part'
'It is enough replied the other, 'that you have been the friend of my
own breast, and that when I have avoided you most, my heart inclined the
most towards you, and was fullest of you. Walter, good-bye!'
'Good-bye, Mr Carker. Heaven be with you, Sir!' cried Walter with
emotion.
'If,' said the other, retaining his hand while he spoke; 'if when you
come back, you miss me from my old corner, and should hear from anyone where
I am lying, come and look upon my grave. Think that I might have been as
honest and as happy as you! And let me think, when I know time is coming on,
that some one like my former self may stand there, for a moment, and
remember me with pity and forgiveness! Walter, good-bye!'
His figure crept like a shadow down the bright, sun-lighted street, so
cheerful yet so solemn in the early summer morning; and slowly passed away.
The relentless chronometer at last announced that Walter must turn his
back upon the wooden Midshipman: and away they went, himself, his Uncle, and
the Captain, in a hackney-coach to a wharf, where they were to take
steam-boat for some Reach down the river, the name of which, as the Captain
gave it out, was a hopeless mystery to the ears of landsmen. Arrived at this
Reach (whither the ship had repaired by last night's tide), they were
boarded by various excited watermen, and among others by a dirty Cyclops of
the Captain's acquaintance, who, with his one eye, had made the Captain out
some mile and a half off, and had been exchanging unintelligible roars with
him ever since. Becoming the lawful prize of this personage, who was
frightfully hoarse and constitutionally in want of shaving, they were all
three put aboard the Son and Heir. And the Son and Heir was in a pretty
state of confusion, with sails lying all bedraggled on the wet decks, loose
ropes tripping people up, men in red shirts running barefoot to and fro,
casks blockading every foot of space, and, in the thickest of the fray, a
black cook in a black caboose up to his eyes in vegetables and blinded with
smoke.
The Captain immediately drew Walter into a corner, and with a great
effort, that made his face very red, pulled up the silver watch, which was
so big, and so tight in his pocket, that it came out like a bung.
'Wal'r,' said the Captain, handing it over, and shaking him heartily by
the hand, 'a parting gift, my lad. Put it back half an hour every morning,
and about another quarter towards the arternoon, and it's a watch that'll do
you credit.'
'Captain Cuttle! I couldn't think of it!' cried Walter, detaining him,
for he was running away. 'Pray take it back. I have one already.'
'Then, Wal'r,' said the Captain, suddenly diving into one of his
pockets and bringing up the two teaspoons and the sugar-tongs, with which he
had armed himself to meet such an objection, 'take this here trifle of
plate, instead.'
'No, no, I couldn't indeed!' cried Walter, 'a thousand thanks! Don't
throw them away, Captain Cuttle!' for the Captain was about to jerk them
overboard. 'They'll be of much more use to you than me. Give me your stick.
I have often thought I should like to have it. There! Good-bye, Captain
Cuttle! Take care of my Uncle! Uncle Sol, God bless you!'
They were over the side in the confusion, before Walter caught another
glimpse of either; and when he ran up to the stern, and looked after them,
he saw his Uncle hanging down his head in the boat, and Captain Cuttle
rapping him on the back with the great silver watch (it must have been very
painful), and gesticulating hopefully with the teaspoons and sugar-tongs.
Catching sight of Walter, Captain Cuttle dropped the property into the
bottom of the boat with perfect unconcern, being evidently oblivious of its
existence, and pulling off the glazed hat hailed him lustily. The glazed hat
made quite a show in the sun with its glistening, and the Captain continued
to wave it until he could be seen no longer. Then the confusion on board,
which had been rapidly increasing, reached its height; two or three other
boats went away with a cheer; the sails shone bright and full above, as
Walter watched them spread their surface to the favourable breeze; the water
flew in sparkles from the prow; and off upon her voyage went the Son and
Heir, as hopefully and trippingly as many another son and heir, gone down,
had started on his way before her.
Day after day, old Sol and Captain Cuttle kept her reckoning in the
little hack parlour and worked out her course, with the chart spread before
them on the round table. At night, when old Sol climbed upstairs, so lonely,
to the attic where it sometimes blew great guns, he looked up at the stars
and listened to the wind, and kept a longer watch than would have fallen to
his lot on board the ship. The last bottle of the old Madeira, which had had
its cruising days, and known its dangers of the deep, lay silently beneath
its dust and cobwebs, in the meanwhile, undisturbed.
Mr Dombey goes upon a Journey
'Mr Dombey, Sir,' said Major Bagstock, 'Joee' B. is not in general a
man of sentiment, for Joseph is tough. But Joe has his feelings, Sir, and
when they are awakened - Damme, Mr Dombey,? cried the Major with sudden
ferocity, 'this is weakness, and I won't submit to it]'
Major Bagstock delivered himself of these expressions on receiving Mr
Dombey as his guest at the head of his own staircase in Princess's Place. Mr
Dombey had come to breakfast with the Major, previous to their setting forth
on their trip; and the ill-starved Native had already undergone a world of
misery arising out of the muffins, while, in connexion with the general
question of boiled eggs, life was a burden to him.
'It is not for an old soldier of the Bagstock breed,' observed the
Major, relapsing into a mild state, 'to deliver himself up, a prey to his
own emotions; but - damme, Sir,' cried the Major, in another spasm of
ferocity, 'I condole with you!'
The Major's purple visage deepened in its hue, and the Major's lobster
eyes stood out in bolder relief, as he shook Mr Dombey by the hand,
imparting to that peaceful action as defiant a character as if it had been
the prelude to his immediately boxing Mr Dombey for a thousand pounds a side
and the championship of England. With a rotatory motion of his head, and a
wheeze very like the cough of a horse, the Major then conducted his visitor
to the sitting-room, and there welcomed him (having now composed his
feelings) with the freedom and frankness ofa travelling companion.
'Dombey,' said the Major, 'I'm glad to see you. I'm proud to see you.
There are not many men in Europe to whom J. Bagstock would say that - for
Josh is blunt. Sir: it's his nature - but Joey B. is proud to see you,
Dombey.'
'Major,' returned Mr Dombey, 'you are very obliging.'
'No, Sir,' said the Major, 'Devil a bit! That's not my character. If
that had been Joe's character, Joe might have been, by this time,
Lieutenant-General Sir Joseph Bagstock, K.C.B., and might have received you
in very different quarters. You don't know old Joe yet, I find. But this
occasion, being special, is a source of pride to me. By the Lord, Sir,' said
the Major resolutely, 'it's an honour to me!'
Mr Dombey, in his estimation of himself and his money, felt that this
was very true, and therefore did not dispute the point. But the instinctive
recognition of such a truth by the Major, and his plain avowal of it, were
very able. It was a confirmation to Mr Dombey, if he had required any, of
his not being mistaken in the Major. It was an assurance to him that his
power extended beyond his own immediate sphere; and that the Major, as an
officer and a gentleman, had a no less becoming sense of it, than the beadle
of the Royal Exchange.
And if it were ever consolatory to know this, or the like of this, it
was consolatory then, when the impotence of his will, the instability of his
hopes, the feebleness of wealth, had been so direfully impressed upon him.
What could it do, his boy had asked him. Sometimes, thinking of the baby
question, he could hardly forbear inquiring, himself, what could it do
indeed: what had it done?
But these were lonely thoughts, bred late at night in the sullen
despondency and gloom of his retirement, and pride easily found its
reassurance in many testimonies to the truth, as unimpeachable and precious
as the Major's. Mr Dombey, in his friendlessness, inclined to the Major. It
cannot be said that he warmed towards him, but he thawed a little, The Major
had had some part - and not too much - in the days by the seaside. He was a
man of the world, and knew some great people. He talked much, and told
stories; and Mr Dombey was disposed to regard him as a choice spirit who
shone in society, and who had not that poisonous ingredient of poverty with
which choice spirits in general are too much adulterated. His station was
undeniable. Altogether the Major was a creditable companion, well accustomed
to a life of leisure, and to such places as that they were about to visit,
and having an air of gentlemanly ease about him that mixed well enough with
his own City character, and did not compete with it at all. If Mr Dombey had
any lingering idea that the Major, as a man accustomed, in the way of his
calling, to make light of the ruthless hand that had lately crushed his
hopes, might unconsciously impart some useful philosophy to him, and scare
away his weak regrets, he hid it from himself, and left it lying at the
bottom of his pride, unexamined.
'Where is my scoundrel?' said the Major, looking wrathfully round the
room.
The Native, who had no particular name, but answered to any
vituperative epithet, presented himself instantly at the door and ventured
to come no nearer.
'You villain!' said the choleric Major, 'where's the breakfast?'
The dark servant disappeared in search of it, and was quickly heard
reascending the stairs in such a tremulous state, that the plates and dishes
on the tray he carried, trembling sympathetically as he came, rattled again,
all the way up.
'Dombey,' said the Major, glancing at the Native as he arranged the
table, and encouraging him with an awful shake of his fist when he upset a
spoon, 'here is a devilled grill, a savoury pie, a dish of kidneys, and so
forth. Pray sit down. Old Joe can give you nothing but camp fare, you see.
'Very excellent fare, Major,' replied his guest; and not in mere
politeness either; for the Major always took the best possible care of
himself, and indeed ate rather more of rich meats than was good for him,
insomuch that his Imperial complexion was mainly referred by the faculty to
that circumstance.
'You have been looking over the way, Sir,' observed the Major. 'Have
you seen our friend?'
'You mean Miss Tox,' retorted Mr Dombey. 'No.'
'Charming woman, Sir,' said the Major, with a fat laugh rising in his
short throat, and nearly suffocating him.
'Miss Tox is a very good sort of person, I believe,' replied Mr Dombey.
The haughty coldness of the reply seemed to afford Major Bagstock
infinite delight. He swelled and swelled, exceedingly: and even laid down
his knife and fork for a moment, to rub his hands.
'Old Joe, Sir,' said the Major, 'was a bit ofa favourite in that
quarter once. But Joe has had his day. J. Bagstock is extinguished -
outrivalled - floored, Sir.'
'I should have supposed,' Mr Dombey replied, 'that the lady's day for
favourites was over: but perhaps you are jesting, Major.'
'Perhaps you are jesting, Dombey?' was the Major's rejoinder.
There never was a more unlikely possiblity. It was so clearly expressed
in Mr Dombey's face, that the Major apologised.
'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'I see you are in earnest. I tell you
what, Dombey.' The Major paused in his eating, and looked mysteriously
indignant. 'That's a de-vilish ambitious woman, Sir.'
Mr Dombey said 'Indeed?' with frigid indifference: mingled perhaps with
some contemptuous incredulity as to Miss Tox having the presumption to
harbour such a superior quality.
'That woman, Sir,' said the Major, 'is, in her way, a Lucifer. Joey B.
has had his day, Sir, but he keeps his eyes. He sees, does Joe. His Royal
Highness the late Duke of York observed of Joey, at a levee, that he saw.'
The Major accompanied this with such a look, and, between eating,
drinking, hot tea, devilled grill, muffins, and meaning, was altogether so
swollen and inflamed about the head, that even Mr Dombey showed some anxiety
for him.
'That ridiculous old spectacle, Sir,' pursued the Major, 'aspires. She
aspires sky-high, Sir. Matrimonially, Dombey.'
'I am sorry for her,' said Mr Dombey.
'Don't say that, Dombey,' returned the Major in a warning voice.
'Why should I not, Major?' said Mr Dombey.
The Major gave no answer but the horse's cough, and went on eating
vigorously.
'She has taken an interest in your household,' said the Major, stopping
short again, 'and has been a frequent visitor at your house for some time
now.'
'Yes,' replied Mr Dombey with great stateliness, 'Miss Tox was
originally received there, at the time of Mrs Dombey's death, as a friend of
my sister's; and being a well-behaved person, and showing a liking for the
poor infant, she was permitted - may I say encouraged - to repeat her visits
with my sister, and gradually to occupy a kind of footing of familiarity in
the family. I have,' said Mr Dombey, in the tone of a man who was making a
great and valuable concession, 'I have a respect for Miss Tox. She his been
so obliging as to render many little services in my house: trifling and
insignificant services perhaps, Major, but not to be disparaged on that
account: and I hope I have had the good fortune to be enabled to acknowledge
them by such attention and notice as it has been in my power to bestow. I
hold myself indebted to Miss Tox, Major,' added Mr Dombey, with a slight
wave of his hand, 'for the pleasure of your acquaintance.'
'Dombey,' said the Major, warmly: 'no! No, Sir! Joseph Bagstock can
never permit that assertion to pass uncontradicted. Your knowledge of old
Joe, Sir, such as he is, and old Joe's knowledge of you, Sir, had its origin
in a noble fellow, Sir - in a great creature, Sir. Dombey!' said the Major,
with a struggle which it was not very difficult to parade, his whole life
being a struggle against all kinds of apoplectic symptoms, 'we knew each
other through your boy.'
Mr Dombey seemed touched, as it is not improbable the Major designed he
should be, by this allusion. He looked down and sighed: and the Major,
rousing himself fiercely, again said, in reference to the state of mind into
which he felt himself in danger of falling, that this was weakness, and
nothing should induce him to submit to it.
'Our friend had a remote connexion with that event,' said the Major,
'and all the credit that belongs to her, J. B. is willing to give her, Sir.
Notwithstanding which, Ma'am,' he added, raising his eyes from his plate,
and casting them across Princess's Place, to where Miss Tox was at that
moment visible at her window watering her flowers, 'you're a scheming jade,
Ma'am, and your ambition is a piece of monstrous impudence. If it only made
yourself ridiculous, Ma'am,' said the Major, rolling his head at the
unconscious Miss Tox, while his starting eyes appeared to make a leap
towards her, 'you might do that to your heart's content, Ma'am, without any
objection, I assure you, on the part of Bagstock.' Here the Major laughed
frightfully up in the tips of his ears and in the veins of his head. 'But
when, Ma'am,' said the Major, 'you compromise other people, and generous,
unsuspicious people too, as a repayment for their condescension, you stir
the blood of old Joe in his body.'
'Major,' said Mr Dombey, reddening, 'I hope you do not hint at anything
so absurd on the part of Miss Tox as - '
'Dombey,' returned the Major, 'I hint at nothing. But Joey B. has lived
in the world, Sir: lived in the world with his eyes open, Sir, and his ears
cocked: and Joe tells you, Dombey, that there's a devilish artful and
ambitious woman over the way.'
Mr Dombey involuntarily glanced over the way; and an angry glance he
sent in that direction, too.
'That's all on such a subject that shall pass the lips of Joseph
Bagstock,' said the Major firmly. 'Joe is not a tale-bearer, but there are
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 daresay,' 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 mommentary 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 didn'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.
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 won'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
daresay, 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.
Don'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 mind
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 didn'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 don'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 lapels,
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 alter 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 death-bed
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 couldn'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 couldn't speak so. I am
sure, at least, I couldn't feel like one.'
'Ay, 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, nor reddened as he did so, but looked
up at him with confidence and truth. In that one moment, every shadow of
doubt or agitation passed away from Walter's soul. It seemed to him that he
responded to her innocent appeal, beside the dead child's bed: and, in the
solemn presence he had seen there, pledged himself to cherish and protect
her very image, in his banishment, with brotherly regard; to garner up her
simple faith, inviolate; and hold himself degraded if he breathed upon it
any thought that was not in her own breast when she gave it to him.
Susan Nipper, who had bitten both her bonnet strings at once, and
imparted a great deal of private emotion to the skylight, during this
transaction, now changed the subject by inquiring who took milk and who took
sugar; and being enlightened on these points, poured out the tea. They all
four gathered socially about the little table, and took tea under that young
lady's active superintendence; and the presence of Florence in the back
parlour, brightened the Tartar frigate on the wall.
Half an hour ago Walter, for his life, would have hardly called her by
her name. But he could do so now when she entreated him. He could think of
her being there, without a lurking misgiving that it would have been better
if she had not come. He could calmly think how beautiful she was, how full
of promise, what a home some happy man would find in such a heart one day.
He could reflect upon his own place in that heart, with pride; and with a
brave determination, if not to deserve it - he still thought that far above
him - never to deserve it less
Some fairy influence must surely have hovered round the hands of Susan
Nipper when she made the tea, engendering the tranquil air that reigned in
the back parlour during its discussion. Some counter-influence must surely
have hovered round the hands of Uncle Sol's chronometer, and moved them
faster than the Tartar frigate ever went before the wind. Be this as it may,
the visitors had a coach in waiting at a quiet corner not far off; and the
chronometer, on being incidentally referred to, gave such a positive opinion
that it had been waiting a long time, that it was impossible to doubt the
fact, especially when stated on such unimpeachable authority. If Uncle Sol
had been going to be hanged by his own time, he never would have allowed
that the chronometer was too fast, by the least fraction of a second.
Florence at parting recapitulated to the old man all that she had said
before, and bound him to the compact. Uncle Sol attended her lovingly to the
legs of the wooden Midshipman, and there resigned her to Walter, who was
ready to escort her and Susan Nipper to the coach.
'Walter,' said Florence by the way, 'I have been afraid to ask before
your Uncle. Do you think you will be absent very long?'
'Indeed,' said Walter, 'I don't know. I fear so. Mr Dombey signified as
much, I thought, when he appointed me.'
'Is it a favour, Walter?' inquired Florence, after a moment's
hesitation, and looking anxiously in his face.
'The appointment?' returned Walter.
'Yes.'
Walter would have given anything to have answered in the affirmative,
but his face answered before his lips could, and Florence was too attentive
to it not to understand its reply.
'I am afraid you have scarcely been a favourite with Papa,' she said,
timidly.
'There is no reason,' replied Walter, smiling, 'why I should be.'
'No reason, Walter!'
'There was no reason,' said Walter, understanding what she meant.
'There are many people employed in the House. Between Mr Dombey and a young
man like me, there's a wide space of separation. If I do my duty, I do what
I ought, and do no more than all the rest.'
Had Florence any misgiving of which she was hardly conscious: any
misgiving that had sprung into an indistinct and undefined existence since
that recent night when she had gone down to her father's room: that Walter's
accidental interest in her, and early knowledge of her, might have involved
him in that powerful displeasure and dislike? Had Walter any such idea, or
any sudden thought that it was in her mind at that moment? Neither of them
hinted at it. Neither of them spoke at all, for some short time. Susan,
walking on the other side of Walter, eyed them both sharply; and certainly
Miss Nipper's thoughts travelled in that direction, and very confidently
too.
'You may come back very soon,' said Florence, 'perhaps, Walter.'
'I may come back,' said Walter, 'an old man, and find you an old lady.
But I hope for better things.'
'Papa,' said Florence, after a moment, 'will - will recover from his
grief, and - speak more freely to me one day, perhaps; and if he should, I
will tell him how much I wish to see you back again, and ask him to recall
you for my sake.'
There was a touching modulation in these words about her father, that
Walter understood too well.
The coach being close at hand, he would have left her without speaking,
for now he felt what parting was; but Florence held his hand when she was
seated, and then he found there was a little packet in her own.
'Walter,' she said, looking full upon him with her affectionate eyes,
'like you, I hope for better things. I will pray for them, and believe that
they will arrive. I made this little gift for Paul. Pray take it with my
love, and do not look at it until you are gone away. And now, God bless you,
Walter! never forget me. You are my brother, dear!'
He was glad that Susan Nipper came between them, or he might have left
her with a sorrowful remembrance of him. He was glad too that she did not
look out of the coach again, but waved the little hand to him instead, as
long as he could see it.
In spite of her request, he could not help opening the packet that
night when he went to bed. It was a little purse: and there was was money in
it.
Bright rose the sun next morning, from his absence in strange countries
and up rose Walter with it to receive the Captain, who was already at the
door: having turned out earlier than was necessary, in order to get under
weigh while Mrs MacStinger was still slumbering. The Captain pretended to be
in tip-top spirits, and brought a very smoky tongue in one of the pockets of
the of the broad blue coat for breakfast.
'And, Wal'r,' said the Captain, when they took their seats at table, if
your Uncle's the man I think him, he'll bring out the last bottle of the
Madeira on the present occasion.'
'No, no, Ned,' returned the old man. 'No! That shall be opened when
Walter comes home again.'
'Well said!' cried the Captain. 'Hear him!'
'There it lies,' said Sol Gills, 'down in the little cellar, covered
with dirt and cobwebs. There may be dirt and cobwebs over you and me
perhaps, Ned, before it sees the light.'
'Hear him! 'cried the Captain. 'Good morality! Wal'r, my lad. Train up
a fig-tree in the way it should go, and when you are old sit under the shade
on it. Overhaul the - Well,' said the Captain on second thoughts, 'I ain't
quite certain where that's to be found, but when found, make a note of. Sol
Gills, heave ahead again!'
'But there or somewhere, it shall lie, Ned, until Wally comes back to
claim it,' said the old man. 'That's all I meant to say.'
'And well said too,' returned the Captain; 'and if we three don't crack
that bottle in company, I'll give you two leave to.'
Notwithstanding the Captain's excessive joviality, he made but a poor
hand at the smoky tongue, though he tried very hard, when anybody looked at
him, to appear as if he were eating with a vast apetite. He was terribly
afraid, likewise, of being left alone with either Uncle or nephew; appearing
to consider that his only chance of safety as to keeping up appearances, was
in there being always three together. This terror on the part of the
Captain, reduced him to such ingenious evasions as running to the door, when
Solomon went to put his coat on, under pretence of having seen an
extraordinary hackney-coach pass: and darting out into the road when Walter
went upstairs to take leave of the lodgers, on a feint of smelling fire in a
neighbouring chimney. These artifices Captain Cuttle deemed inscrutable by
any uninspired observer.
Walter was coming down from his parting expedition upstairs, and was
crossing the shop to go back to the little parlour, when he saw a faded face
he knew, looking in at the door, and darted towards it.
'Mr Carker!' cried Walter, pressing the hand of John Carker the Junior.
'Pray come in! This is kind of you, to be here so early to say good-bye to
me. You knew how glad it would make me to shake hands with you, once, before
going away. I cannot say how glad I am to have this opportunity. Pray come
in.'
'It is not likely that we may ever meet again, Walter,' returned the
other, gently resisting his invitation, 'and I am glad of this opportunity
too. I may venture to speak to you, and to take you by the hand, on the eve
of separation. I shall not have to resist your frank approaches, Walter, any
more.
There was a melancholy in his smile as he said it, that showed he had
found some company and friendship for his thoughts even in that.
'Ah, Mr Carker!' returned Walter. 'Why did you resist them? You could
have done me nothing but good, I am very sure.
He shook his head. 'If there were any good,' he said, 'I could do on
this earth, I would do it, Walter, for you. The sight of you from day to
day, has been at once happiness and remorse to me. But the pleasure has
outweighed the pain. I know that, now, by knowing what I lose.'
'Come in, Mr Carker, and make acquaintance with my good old Uncle,'
urged Walter. 'I have often talked to him about you, and he will be glad to
tell you all he hears from me. I have not,' said Walter, noticing his
hesitation, and speaking with embarrassment himself: 'I have not told him
anything about our last conversation, Mr Carker; not even him, believe me.
The grey Junior pressed his hand, and tears rose in his eyes.
'If I ever make acquaintance with him, Walter,' he returned, 'it will
be that I may hear tidings of you. Rely on my not wronging your forbearance
and consideration. It would be to wrong it, not to tell him all the truth,
before I sought a word of confidence from him. But I have no friend or
acquaintance except you: and even for your sake, am little likely to make
any.'
'I wish,' said Walter, 'you had suffered me to be your friend indeed. I
always wished it, Mr Carker, as you know; but never half so much as now,
when we are going to part'
'It is enough replied the other, 'that you have been the friend of my
own breast, and that when I have avoided you most, my heart inclined the
most towards you, and was fullest of you. Walter, good-bye!'
'Good-bye, Mr Carker. Heaven be with you, Sir!' cried Walter with
emotion.
'If,' said the other, retaining his hand while he spoke; 'if when you
come back, you miss me from my old corner, and should hear from anyone where
I am lying, come and look upon my grave. Think that I might have been as
honest and as happy as you! And let me think, when I know time is coming on,
that some one like my former self may stand there, for a moment, and
remember me with pity and forgiveness! Walter, good-bye!'
His figure crept like a shadow down the bright, sun-lighted street, so
cheerful yet so solemn in the early summer morning; and slowly passed away.
The relentless chronometer at last announced that Walter must turn his
back upon the wooden Midshipman: and away they went, himself, his Uncle, and
the Captain, in a hackney-coach to a wharf, where they were to take
steam-boat for some Reach down the river, the name of which, as the Captain
gave it out, was a hopeless mystery to the ears of landsmen. Arrived at this
Reach (whither the ship had repaired by last night's tide), they were
boarded by various excited watermen, and among others by a dirty Cyclops of
the Captain's acquaintance, who, with his one eye, had made the Captain out
some mile and a half off, and had been exchanging unintelligible roars with
him ever since. Becoming the lawful prize of this personage, who was
frightfully hoarse and constitutionally in want of shaving, they were all
three put aboard the Son and Heir. And the Son and Heir was in a pretty
state of confusion, with sails lying all bedraggled on the wet decks, loose
ropes tripping people up, men in red shirts running barefoot to and fro,
casks blockading every foot of space, and, in the thickest of the fray, a
black cook in a black caboose up to his eyes in vegetables and blinded with
smoke.
The Captain immediately drew Walter into a corner, and with a great
effort, that made his face very red, pulled up the silver watch, which was
so big, and so tight in his pocket, that it came out like a bung.
'Wal'r,' said the Captain, handing it over, and shaking him heartily by
the hand, 'a parting gift, my lad. Put it back half an hour every morning,
and about another quarter towards the arternoon, and it's a watch that'll do
you credit.'
'Captain Cuttle! I couldn't think of it!' cried Walter, detaining him,
for he was running away. 'Pray take it back. I have one already.'
'Then, Wal'r,' said the Captain, suddenly diving into one of his
pockets and bringing up the two teaspoons and the sugar-tongs, with which he
had armed himself to meet such an objection, 'take this here trifle of
plate, instead.'
'No, no, I couldn't indeed!' cried Walter, 'a thousand thanks! Don't
throw them away, Captain Cuttle!' for the Captain was about to jerk them
overboard. 'They'll be of much more use to you than me. Give me your stick.
I have often thought I should like to have it. There! Good-bye, Captain
Cuttle! Take care of my Uncle! Uncle Sol, God bless you!'
They were over the side in the confusion, before Walter caught another
glimpse of either; and when he ran up to the stern, and looked after them,
he saw his Uncle hanging down his head in the boat, and Captain Cuttle
rapping him on the back with the great silver watch (it must have been very
painful), and gesticulating hopefully with the teaspoons and sugar-tongs.
Catching sight of Walter, Captain Cuttle dropped the property into the
bottom of the boat with perfect unconcern, being evidently oblivious of its
existence, and pulling off the glazed hat hailed him lustily. The glazed hat
made quite a show in the sun with its glistening, and the Captain continued
to wave it until he could be seen no longer. Then the confusion on board,
which had been rapidly increasing, reached its height; two or three other
boats went away with a cheer; the sails shone bright and full above, as
Walter watched them spread their surface to the favourable breeze; the water
flew in sparkles from the prow; and off upon her voyage went the Son and
Heir, as hopefully and trippingly as many another son and heir, gone down,
had started on his way before her.
Day after day, old Sol and Captain Cuttle kept her reckoning in the
little hack parlour and worked out her course, with the chart spread before
them on the round table. At night, when old Sol climbed upstairs, so lonely,
to the attic where it sometimes blew great guns, he looked up at the stars
and listened to the wind, and kept a longer watch than would have fallen to
his lot on board the ship. The last bottle of the old Madeira, which had had
its cruising days, and known its dangers of the deep, lay silently beneath
its dust and cobwebs, in the meanwhile, undisturbed.
Mr Dombey goes upon a Journey
'Mr Dombey, Sir,' said Major Bagstock, 'Joee' B. is not in general a
man of sentiment, for Joseph is tough. But Joe has his feelings, Sir, and
when they are awakened - Damme, Mr Dombey,? cried the Major with sudden
ferocity, 'this is weakness, and I won't submit to it]'
Major Bagstock delivered himself of these expressions on receiving Mr
Dombey as his guest at the head of his own staircase in Princess's Place. Mr
Dombey had come to breakfast with the Major, previous to their setting forth
on their trip; and the ill-starved Native had already undergone a world of
misery arising out of the muffins, while, in connexion with the general
question of boiled eggs, life was a burden to him.
'It is not for an old soldier of the Bagstock breed,' observed the
Major, relapsing into a mild state, 'to deliver himself up, a prey to his
own emotions; but - damme, Sir,' cried the Major, in another spasm of
ferocity, 'I condole with you!'
The Major's purple visage deepened in its hue, and the Major's lobster
eyes stood out in bolder relief, as he shook Mr Dombey by the hand,
imparting to that peaceful action as defiant a character as if it had been
the prelude to his immediately boxing Mr Dombey for a thousand pounds a side
and the championship of England. With a rotatory motion of his head, and a
wheeze very like the cough of a horse, the Major then conducted his visitor
to the sitting-room, and there welcomed him (having now composed his
feelings) with the freedom and frankness ofa travelling companion.
'Dombey,' said the Major, 'I'm glad to see you. I'm proud to see you.
There are not many men in Europe to whom J. Bagstock would say that - for
Josh is blunt. Sir: it's his nature - but Joey B. is proud to see you,
Dombey.'
'Major,' returned Mr Dombey, 'you are very obliging.'
'No, Sir,' said the Major, 'Devil a bit! That's not my character. If
that had been Joe's character, Joe might have been, by this time,
Lieutenant-General Sir Joseph Bagstock, K.C.B., and might have received you
in very different quarters. You don't know old Joe yet, I find. But this
occasion, being special, is a source of pride to me. By the Lord, Sir,' said
the Major resolutely, 'it's an honour to me!'
Mr Dombey, in his estimation of himself and his money, felt that this
was very true, and therefore did not dispute the point. But the instinctive
recognition of such a truth by the Major, and his plain avowal of it, were
very able. It was a confirmation to Mr Dombey, if he had required any, of
his not being mistaken in the Major. It was an assurance to him that his
power extended beyond his own immediate sphere; and that the Major, as an
officer and a gentleman, had a no less becoming sense of it, than the beadle
of the Royal Exchange.
And if it were ever consolatory to know this, or the like of this, it
was consolatory then, when the impotence of his will, the instability of his
hopes, the feebleness of wealth, had been so direfully impressed upon him.
What could it do, his boy had asked him. Sometimes, thinking of the baby
question, he could hardly forbear inquiring, himself, what could it do
indeed: what had it done?
But these were lonely thoughts, bred late at night in the sullen
despondency and gloom of his retirement, and pride easily found its
reassurance in many testimonies to the truth, as unimpeachable and precious
as the Major's. Mr Dombey, in his friendlessness, inclined to the Major. It
cannot be said that he warmed towards him, but he thawed a little, The Major
had had some part - and not too much - in the days by the seaside. He was a
man of the world, and knew some great people. He talked much, and told
stories; and Mr Dombey was disposed to regard him as a choice spirit who
shone in society, and who had not that poisonous ingredient of poverty with
which choice spirits in general are too much adulterated. His station was
undeniable. Altogether the Major was a creditable companion, well accustomed
to a life of leisure, and to such places as that they were about to visit,
and having an air of gentlemanly ease about him that mixed well enough with
his own City character, and did not compete with it at all. If Mr Dombey had
any lingering idea that the Major, as a man accustomed, in the way of his
calling, to make light of the ruthless hand that had lately crushed his
hopes, might unconsciously impart some useful philosophy to him, and scare
away his weak regrets, he hid it from himself, and left it lying at the
bottom of his pride, unexamined.
'Where is my scoundrel?' said the Major, looking wrathfully round the
room.
The Native, who had no particular name, but answered to any
vituperative epithet, presented himself instantly at the door and ventured
to come no nearer.
'You villain!' said the choleric Major, 'where's the breakfast?'
The dark servant disappeared in search of it, and was quickly heard
reascending the stairs in such a tremulous state, that the plates and dishes
on the tray he carried, trembling sympathetically as he came, rattled again,
all the way up.
'Dombey,' said the Major, glancing at the Native as he arranged the
table, and encouraging him with an awful shake of his fist when he upset a
spoon, 'here is a devilled grill, a savoury pie, a dish of kidneys, and so
forth. Pray sit down. Old Joe can give you nothing but camp fare, you see.
'Very excellent fare, Major,' replied his guest; and not in mere
politeness either; for the Major always took the best possible care of
himself, and indeed ate rather more of rich meats than was good for him,
insomuch that his Imperial complexion was mainly referred by the faculty to
that circumstance.
'You have been looking over the way, Sir,' observed the Major. 'Have
you seen our friend?'
'You mean Miss Tox,' retorted Mr Dombey. 'No.'
'Charming woman, Sir,' said the Major, with a fat laugh rising in his
short throat, and nearly suffocating him.
'Miss Tox is a very good sort of person, I believe,' replied Mr Dombey.
The haughty coldness of the reply seemed to afford Major Bagstock
infinite delight. He swelled and swelled, exceedingly: and even laid down
his knife and fork for a moment, to rub his hands.
'Old Joe, Sir,' said the Major, 'was a bit ofa favourite in that
quarter once. But Joe has had his day. J. Bagstock is extinguished -
outrivalled - floored, Sir.'
'I should have supposed,' Mr Dombey replied, 'that the lady's day for
favourites was over: but perhaps you are jesting, Major.'
'Perhaps you are jesting, Dombey?' was the Major's rejoinder.
There never was a more unlikely possiblity. It was so clearly expressed
in Mr Dombey's face, that the Major apologised.
'I beg your pardon,' he said. 'I see you are in earnest. I tell you
what, Dombey.' The Major paused in his eating, and looked mysteriously
indignant. 'That's a de-vilish ambitious woman, Sir.'
Mr Dombey said 'Indeed?' with frigid indifference: mingled perhaps with
some contemptuous incredulity as to Miss Tox having the presumption to
harbour such a superior quality.
'That woman, Sir,' said the Major, 'is, in her way, a Lucifer. Joey B.
has had his day, Sir, but he keeps his eyes. He sees, does Joe. His Royal
Highness the late Duke of York observed of Joey, at a levee, that he saw.'
The Major accompanied this with such a look, and, between eating,
drinking, hot tea, devilled grill, muffins, and meaning, was altogether so
swollen and inflamed about the head, that even Mr Dombey showed some anxiety
for him.
'That ridiculous old spectacle, Sir,' pursued the Major, 'aspires. She
aspires sky-high, Sir. Matrimonially, Dombey.'
'I am sorry for her,' said Mr Dombey.
'Don't say that, Dombey,' returned the Major in a warning voice.
'Why should I not, Major?' said Mr Dombey.
The Major gave no answer but the horse's cough, and went on eating
vigorously.
'She has taken an interest in your household,' said the Major, stopping
short again, 'and has been a frequent visitor at your house for some time
now.'
'Yes,' replied Mr Dombey with great stateliness, 'Miss Tox was
originally received there, at the time of Mrs Dombey's death, as a friend of
my sister's; and being a well-behaved person, and showing a liking for the
poor infant, she was permitted - may I say encouraged - to repeat her visits
with my sister, and gradually to occupy a kind of footing of familiarity in
the family. I have,' said Mr Dombey, in the tone of a man who was making a
great and valuable concession, 'I have a respect for Miss Tox. She his been
so obliging as to render many little services in my house: trifling and
insignificant services perhaps, Major, but not to be disparaged on that
account: and I hope I have had the good fortune to be enabled to acknowledge
them by such attention and notice as it has been in my power to bestow. I
hold myself indebted to Miss Tox, Major,' added Mr Dombey, with a slight
wave of his hand, 'for the pleasure of your acquaintance.'
'Dombey,' said the Major, warmly: 'no! No, Sir! Joseph Bagstock can
never permit that assertion to pass uncontradicted. Your knowledge of old
Joe, Sir, such as he is, and old Joe's knowledge of you, Sir, had its origin
in a noble fellow, Sir - in a great creature, Sir. Dombey!' said the Major,
with a struggle which it was not very difficult to parade, his whole life
being a struggle against all kinds of apoplectic symptoms, 'we knew each
other through your boy.'
Mr Dombey seemed touched, as it is not improbable the Major designed he
should be, by this allusion. He looked down and sighed: and the Major,
rousing himself fiercely, again said, in reference to the state of mind into
which he felt himself in danger of falling, that this was weakness, and
nothing should induce him to submit to it.
'Our friend had a remote connexion with that event,' said the Major,
'and all the credit that belongs to her, J. B. is willing to give her, Sir.
Notwithstanding which, Ma'am,' he added, raising his eyes from his plate,
and casting them across Princess's Place, to where Miss Tox was at that
moment visible at her window watering her flowers, 'you're a scheming jade,
Ma'am, and your ambition is a piece of monstrous impudence. If it only made
yourself ridiculous, Ma'am,' said the Major, rolling his head at the
unconscious Miss Tox, while his starting eyes appeared to make a leap
towards her, 'you might do that to your heart's content, Ma'am, without any
objection, I assure you, on the part of Bagstock.' Here the Major laughed
frightfully up in the tips of his ears and in the veins of his head. 'But
when, Ma'am,' said the Major, 'you compromise other people, and generous,
unsuspicious people too, as a repayment for their condescension, you stir
the blood of old Joe in his body.'
'Major,' said Mr Dombey, reddening, 'I hope you do not hint at anything
so absurd on the part of Miss Tox as - '
'Dombey,' returned the Major, 'I hint at nothing. But Joey B. has lived
in the world, Sir: lived in the world with his eyes open, Sir, and his ears
cocked: and Joe tells you, Dombey, that there's a devilish artful and
ambitious woman over the way.'
Mr Dombey involuntarily glanced over the way; and an angry glance he
sent in that direction, too.
'That's all on such a subject that shall pass the lips of Joseph
Bagstock,' said the Major firmly. 'Joe is not a tale-bearer, but there are