***the Project Gutenberg Etext Series By Charles Dickens. Copyright laws
are changing all over the world, be sure to check the copyright laws for
your country before posting these files!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below. We need your donations.
Dombey and Son
by Charles Dickens
February, 1997 [Etext #821]
***The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dombey and Son, by Dickens***
*****This file should be named domby10.txt or domby10.zip******
Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, domby11.txt.
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, domby10a.txt.
Dombey and Son was contributed by:
Neil McLachlan, nmclachlan@delphi.com
and Ted Davis, 101515.3105@compuserve.com
on behalf of the Talking Newspaper of the UK (TNAUK).
A Kurzweil flatbed scanner and Xerox Discover software were used to
produce the raw text files, which were edited using the TSEJR ASCII
text editor, with a user lexicon specially developed for this purpose.
Words split at the end of lines have been re-united, maintaining
hyphenation where appropriate; except for the Prefaces, the text has
been reformatted to 70 columns.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.
Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text
files per month: or 400 more Etexts in 1996 for a total of 800.
If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
total should reach 80 billion Etexts. We will try add 800 more,
during 1997, but it will take all the effort we can manage to do
the doubling of our library again this year, what with the other
massive requirements it is going to take to get incorporated and
establish something that will have some permanence.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001
should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it
will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001.
We need your donations more than ever!
All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg"
For these and other matters, please mail to:
Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Executive Director:
Michael S. Hart
We would prefer to send you this information by email
(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).
******
If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please
FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:
[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]
ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd etext/etext90 through /etext97
or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET INDEX?00.GUT
for a list of books
and
GET NEW GUT for general information
and
MGET GUT* for newsletters.
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States
copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy
and distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
net profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Association within the 60
days following each date you prepare (or were legally
required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic)
tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
Dombey and Son was contributed by:
Neil McLachlan, nmclachlan@delphi.com
and Ted Davis, 101515.3105@compuserve.com
on behalf of the Talking Newspaper of the UK (TNAUK).
Production:
A Kurzweil flatbed scanner and Xerox Discover software was used to
produce the raw text files, which were edited using the TSEJR ASCII
text editor, with a user lexicon specially developed for this purpose.
Words split at the end of lines have been re-united, maintaining
hyphenation where appropriate; except for the Prefaces, the text has
been reformatted to 70 columns.
Structure:
Contents
Chapters 1 to 62
Preface of 1848
Preface of 1867
1. Dombey and Son
2. In which Timely Provision is made for an Emergency that
will sometimes arise in the best-regulated Families
3. In which Mr Dombey, as a Man and a Father, is seen at the
Head of the Home-Department
4. In which some more First Appearances are made on the
Stage of these Adventures
5. Paul's Progress and Christening
6. Paul's Second Deprivation
7. A Bird's-eye Glimpse of Miss Tox's Dwelling-place; also
of the State of Miss Tox's Affections
8. Paul's further Progress, Growth, and Character
9. In which the Wooden Midshipman gets into Trouble 10. Containing the
Sequel of the Midshipman's Disaster 11. Paul's Introduction to a New Scene
12. Paul's Education 13. Shipping Intelligence and Office Business 14. Paul
grows more and more Old-fashioned, and goes Home
for the holidays 15. Amazing Artfulness of Captain Cuttle, and a new
Pursuit
for Walter Gay 16. What the Waves were always saying 17. Captain Cuttle
does a little Business for the Young people 18. Father and Daughter 19.
Walter goes away 20. Mr Dombey goes upon a journey 21. New Faces 22. A
Trifle of Management by Mr Carker the Manager 23. Florence solitary, and the
Midshipman mysterious 24. The Study of a Loving Heart 25. Strange News of
Uncle Sol 26. Shadows of the Past and Future 27. Deeper shadows 28.
Alterations 29. The Opening of the Eyes of Mrs Chick 30. The Interval before
the Marriage 31. The Wedding 32. The Wooden Midshipman goes to Pieces 33.
Contrasts 34. Another Mother and Daughter 35. The Happy Pair 36.
Housewarming 37. More Warnings than One 38. Miss Tox improves an Old
Acquaintance 39. Further Adventures of Captain Edward Cuttle, Mariner 40.
Domestic Relations 41. New Voices in the Waves 42. Confidential and
Accidental 43. The Watches of the Night 44. A Separation 45. The Trusty
Agent 46. Recognizant and Reflective 47. The Thunderbolt 48. The Flight of
Florence 49. The Midshipman makes a Discovery 50. Mr Toots's Complaint 51.
Mr Dombey and the World 52. Secret Intelligence 53. More Intelligence 54.
The Fugitives 55. Rob the Grinder loses his Place 56. Several People
delighted, and the Game Chicken disgusted 57. Another Wedding 58. After a
Lapse 59. Retribution 60. Chiefly Matrimonial 61. Relenting 62. Final
Dombey and Son
Dombey sat in the corner of the darkened room in the great arm-chair by
the bedside, and Son lay tucked up warm in a little basket bedstead,
carefully disposed on a low settee immediately in front of the fire and
close to it, as if his constitution were analogous to that of a muffin, and
it was essential to toast him brown while he was very new.
Dombey was about eight-and-forty years of age. Son about
eight-and-forty minutes. Dombey was rather bald, rather red, and though a
handsome well-made man, too stern and pompous in appearance, to be
prepossessing. Son was very bald, and very red, and though (of course) an
undeniably fine infant, somewhat crushed and spotty in his general effect,
as yet. On the brow of Dombey, Time and his brother Care had set some marks,
as on a tree that was to come down in good time - remorseless twins they are
for striding through their human forests, notching as they go - while the
countenance of Son was crossed with a thousand little creases, which the
same deceitful Time would take delight in smoothing out and wearing away
with the flat part of his scythe, as a preparation of the surface for his
deeper operations.
Dombey, exulting in the long-looked-for event, jingled and jingled the
heavy gold watch-chain that depended from below his trim blue coat, whereof
the buttons sparkled phosphorescently in the feeble rays of the distant
fire. Son, with his little fists curled up and clenched, seemed, in his
feeble way, to be squaring at existence for having come upon him so
unexpectedly.
'The House will once again, Mrs Dombey,' said Mr Dombey, 'be not only
in name but in fact Dombey and Son;' and he added, in a tone of luxurious
satisfaction, with his eyes half-closed as if he were reading the name in a
device of flowers, and inhaling their fragrance at the same time; 'Dom-bey
and Son!'
The words had such a softening influence, that he appended a term of
endearment to Mrs Dombey's name (though not without some hesitation, as
being a man but little used to that form of address): and said, 'Mrs Dombey,
my - my dear.'
A transient flush of faint surprise overspread the sick lady's face as
she raised her eyes towards him.
'He will be christened Paul, my - Mrs Dombey - of course.'
She feebly echoed, 'Of course,' or rather expressed it by the motion of
her lips, and closed her eyes again.
'His father's name, Mrs Dombey, and his grandfather's! I wish his
grandfather were alive this day! There is some inconvenience in the
necessity of writing Junior,' said Mr Dombey, making a fictitious autograph
on his knee; 'but it is merely of a private and personal complexion. It
doesn't enter into the correspondence of the House. Its signature remains
the same.' And again he said 'Dombey and Son, in exactly the same tone as
before.
Those three words conveyed the one idea of Mr Dombey's life. The earth
was made for Dombey and Son to trade in, and the sun and moon were made to
give them light. Rivers and seas were formed to float their ships; rainbows
gave them promise of fair weather; winds blew for or against their
enterprises; stars and planets circled in their orbits, to preserve
inviolate a system of which they were the centre. Common abbreviations took
new meanings in his eyes, and had sole reference to them. A. D. had no
concern with Anno Domini, but stood for anno Dombey - and Son.
He had risen, as his father had before him, in the course of life and
death, from Son to Dombey, and for nearly twenty years had been the sole
representative of the Firm. Of those years he had been married, ten -
married, as some said, to a lady with no heart to give him; whose happiness
was in the past, and who was content to bind her broken spirit to the
dutiful and meek endurance of the present. Such idle talk was little likely
to reach the ears of Mr Dombey, whom it nearly concerned; and probably no
one in the world would have received it with such utter incredulity as he,
if it had reached him. Dombey and Son had often dealt in hides, but never in
hearts. They left that fancy ware to boys and girls, and boarding-schools
and books. Mr Dombey would have reasoned: That a matrimonial alliance with
himself must, in the nature of things, be gratifying and honourable to any
woman of common sense. That the hope of giving birth to a new partner in
such a House, could not fail to awaken a glorious and stirring ambition in
the breast of the least ambitious of her sex. That Mrs Dombey had entered on
that social contract of matrimony: almost necessarily part of a genteel and
wealthy station, even without reference to the perpetuation of family Firms:
with her eyes fully open to these advantages. That Mrs Dombey had had daily
practical knowledge of his position in society. That Mrs Dombey had always
sat at the head of his table, and done the honours of his house in a
remarkably lady-like and becoming manner. That Mrs Dombey must have been
happy. That she couldn't help it.
Or, at all events, with one drawback. Yes. That he would have allowed.
With only one; but that one certainly involving much. With the drawback of
hope deferred. That hope deferred, which, (as the Scripture very correctly
tells us, Mr Dombey would have added in a patronising way; for his highest
distinct idea even of Scripture, if examined, would have been found to be;
that as forming part of a general whole, of which Dombey and Son formed
another part, it was therefore to be commended and upheld) maketh the heart
sick. They had been married ten years, and until this present day on which
Mr Dombey sat jingling and jingling his heavy gold watch-chain in the great
arm-chair by the side of the bed, had had no issue.
- To speak of; none worth mentioning. There had been a girl some six
years before, and the child, who had stolen into the chamber unobserved, was
now crouching timidly, in a corner whence she could see her mother's face.
But what was a girl to Dombey and Son! In the capital of the House's name
and dignity, such a child was merely a piece of base coin that couldn't be
invested - a bad Boy - nothing more.
Mr Dombey's cup of satisfaction was so full at this moment, however,
that he felt he could afford a drop or two of its contents, even to sprinkle
on the dust in the by-path of his little daughter.
So he said, 'Florence, you may go and look at your pretty brother, if
you lIke, I daresay. Don't touch him!'
The child glanced keenly at the blue coat and stiff white cravat,
which, with a pair of creaking boots and a very loud ticking watch, embodied
her idea of a father; but her eyes returned to her mother's face
immediately, and she neither moved nor answered.
'Her insensibility is as proof against a brother as against every thing
else,' said Mr Dombey to himself He seemed so confirmed in a previous
opinion by the discovery, as to be quite glad of it'
Next moment, the lady had opened her eyes and seen the child; and the
child had run towards her; and, standing on tiptoe, the better to hide her
face in her embrace, had clung about her with a desperate affection very
much at variance with her years.
'Oh Lord bless me!' said Mr Dombey, rising testily. 'A very illadvised
and feverish proceeding this, I am sure. Please to ring there for Miss
Florence's nurse. Really the person should be more care-'
'Wait! I - had better ask Doctor Peps if he'll have the goodness to
step upstairs again perhaps. I'll go down. I'll go down. I needn't beg you,'
he added, pausing for a moment at the settee before the fire, 'to take
particular care of this young gentleman, Mrs - '
'Blockitt, Sir?' suggested the nurse, a simpering piece of faded
gentility, who did not presume to state her name as a fact, but merely
offered it as a mild suggestion.
'Of this young gentleman, Mrs Blockitt.'
'No, Sir, indeed. I remember when Miss Florence was born - '
'Ay, ay, ay,' said Mr Dombey, bending over the basket bedstead, and
slightly bending his brows at the same time. 'Miss Florence was all very
well, but this is another matter. This young gentleman has to accomplish a
destiny. A destiny, little fellow!' As he thus apostrophised the infant he
raised one of his hands to his lips, and kissed it; then, seeming to fear
that the action involved some compromise of his dignity, went, awkwardly
enough, away.
Doctor Parker Peps, one of the Court Physicians, and a man of immense
reputation for assisting at the increase of great families, was walking up
and down the drawing-room with his hands behind him, to the unspeakable
admiration of the family Surgeon, who had regularly puffed the case for the
last six weeks, among all his patients, friends, and acquaintances, as one
to which he was in hourly expectation day and night of being summoned, in
conjunction with Doctor Parker Pep.
'Well, Sir,' said Doctor Parker Peps in a round, deep, sonorous voice,
muffled for the occasion, like the knocker; 'do you find that your dear lady
is at all roused by your visit?'
'Stimulated as it were?' said the family practitioner faintly: bowing
at the same time to the Doctor, as much as to say, 'Excuse my putting in a
word, but this is a valuable connexion.'
Mr Dombey was quite discomfited by the question. He had thought so
little of the patient, that he was not in a condition to answer it. He said
that it would be a satisfaction to him, if Doctor Parker Peps would walk
upstairs again.
'Good! We must not disguise from you, Sir,' said Doctor Parker Peps,
'that there is a want of power in Her Grace the Duchess - I beg your pardon;
I confound names; I should say, in your amiable lady. That there is a
certain degree of languor, and a general absence of elasticity, which we
would rather - not -
'See,' interposed the family practitioner with another inclination of
the head.
'Quite so,' said Doctor Parker Peps,' which we would rather not see. It
would appear that the system of Lady Cankaby - excuse me: I should say of
Mrs Dombey: I confuse the names of cases - '
'So very numerous,' murmured the family practitioner - 'can't be
expected I'm sure - quite wonderful if otherwise - Doctor Parker Peps's
West-End practice - '
'Thank you,' said the Doctor, 'quite so. It would appear, I was
observing, that the system of our patient has sustained a shock, from which
it can only hope to rally by a great and strong - '
'And vigorous,' murmured the family practitioner.
'Quite so,' assented the Doctor - 'and vigorous effort. Mr Pilkins
here, who from his position of medical adviser in this family - no one
better qualified to fill that position, I am sure.'
'Oh!' murmured the family practitioner. '"Praise from Sir Hubert
Stanley!"'
'You are good enough,' returned Doctor Parker Peps, 'to say so. Mr
Pilkins who, from his position, is best acquainted with the patient's
constitution in its normal state (an acquaintance very valuable to us in
forming our opinions in these occasions), is of opinion, with me, that
Nature must be called upon to make a vigorous effort in this instance; and
that if our interesting friend the Countess of Dombey - I beg your pardon;
Mrs Dombey - should not be - '
'Able,' said the family practitioner.
'To make,' said Doctor Parker Peps.
'That effort,' said the family practitioner.
'Successfully,' said they both together.
'Then,' added Doctor Parker Peps, alone and very gravely, a crisis
might arise, which we should both sincerely deplore.'
With that, they stood for a few seconds looking at the ground. Then, on
the motion - made in dumb show - of Doctor Parker Peps, they went upstairs;
the family practitioner opening the room door for that distinguished
professional, and following him out, with most obsequious politeness.
To record of Mr Dombey that he was not in his way affected by this
intelligence, would be to do him an injustice. He was not a man of whom it
could properly be said that he was ever startled, or shocked; but he
certainly had a sense within him, that if his wife should sicken and decay,
he would be very sorry, and that he would find a something gone from among
his plate and furniture, and other household possessions, which was well
worth the having, and could not be lost without sincere regret. Though it
would be a cool,. business-like, gentlemanly, self-possessed regret, no
doubt.
His meditations on the subject were soon interrupted, first by the
rustling of garments on the staircase, and then by the sudden whisking into
the room of a lady rather past the middle age than otherwise but dressed in
a very juvenile manner, particularly as to the tightness of her bodice, who,
running up to him with a kind of screw in her face and carriage, expressive
of suppressed emotion, flung her arms around his neck, and said, in a
choking voice,
'My dear Paul! He's quite a Dombey!'
'Well, well!' returned her brother - for Mr Dombey was her brother - 'I
think he is like the family. Don't agitate yourself, Louisa.'
'It's very foolish of me,' said Louisa, sitting down, and taking out
her pocket~handkerchief, 'but he's - he's such a perfect Dombey!'
Mr Dombey coughed.
'It's so extraordinary,' said Louisa; smiling through her tears, which
indeed were not overpowering, 'as to be perfectly ridiculous. So completely
our family. I never saw anything like it in my life!'
'But what is this about Fanny, herself?' said Mr Dombey. 'How is
Fanny?'
'My dear Paul,' returned Louisa, 'it's nothing whatever. Take my word,
it's nothing whatever. There is exhaustion, certainly, but nothing like what
I underwent myself, either with George or Frederick. An effort is necessary.
That's all. If dear Fanny were a Dombey! - But I daresay she'll make it; I
have no doubt she'll make it. Knowing it to be required of her, as a duty,
of course she'll make it. My dear Paul, it's very weak and silly of me, I
know, to be so trembly and shaky from head to foot; but I am so very queer
that I must ask you for a glass of wine and a morsel of that cake.'
Mr Dombey promptly supplied her with these refreshments from a tray on
the table.
'I shall not drink my love to you, Paul,' said Louisa: 'I shall drink
to the little Dombey. Good gracious me! - it's the most astonishing thing I
ever knew in all my days, he's such a perfect Dombey.'
Quenching this expression of opinion in a short hysterical laugh which
terminated in tears, Louisa cast up her eyes, and emptied her glass.
'I know it's very weak and silly of me,' she repeated, 'to be so
trembly and shaky from head to foot, and to allow my feelings so completely
to get the better of me, but I cannot help it. I thought I should have
fallen out of the staircase window as I came down from seeing dear Fanny,
and that tiddy ickle sing.' These last words originated in a sudden vivid
reminiscence of the baby.
They were succeeded by a gentle tap at the door.
'Mrs Chick,' said a very bland female voice outside, 'how are you now,
my dear friend?'
'My dear Paul,' said Louisa in a low voice, as she rose from her seat,
'it's Miss Tox. The kindest creature! I never could have got here without
her! Miss Tox, my brother Mr Dombey. Paul, my dear, my very particular
friend Miss Tox.'
The lady thus specially presented, was a long lean figure, wearing such
a faded air that she seemed not to have been made in what linen-drapers call
'fast colours' originally, and to have, by little and little, washed out.
But for this she might have been described as the very pink of general
propitiation and politeness. From a long habit of listening admiringly to
everything that was said in her presence, and looking at the speakers as if
she were mentally engaged in taking off impressions of their images upon her
soul, never to part with the same but with life, her head had quite settled
on one side. Her hands had contracted a spasmodic habit of raising
themselves of their own accord as in involuntary admiration. Her eyes were
liable to a similar affection. She had the softest voice that ever was
heard; and her nose, stupendously aquiline, had a little knob in the very
centre or key-stone of the bridge, whence it tended downwards towards her
face, as in an invincible determination never to turn up at anything.
Miss Tox's dress, though perfectly genteel and good, had a certain
character of angularity and scantiness. She was accustomed to wear odd weedy
little flowers in her bonnets and caps. Strange grasses were sometimes
perceived in her hair; and it was observed by the curious, of all her
collars, frills, tuckers, wristbands, and other gossamer articles - indeed
of everything she wore which had two ends to it intended to unite - that the
two ends were never on good terms, and wouldn't quite meet without a
struggle. She had furry articles for winter wear, as tippets, boas, and
muffs, which stood up on end in rampant manner, and were not at all sleek.
She was much given to the carrying about of small bags with snaps to them,
that went off like little pistols when they were shut up; and when
full-dressed, she wore round her neck the barrenest of lockets, representing
a fishy old eye, with no approach to speculation in it. These and other
appearances of a similar nature, had served to propagate the opinion, that
Miss Tox was a lady of what is called a limited independence, which she
turned to the best account. Possibly her mincing gait encouraged the belief,
and suggested that her clipping a step of ordinary compass into two or
three, originated in her habit of making the most of everything.
'I am sure,' said Miss Tox, with a prodigious curtsey, 'that to have
the honour of being presented to Mr Dombey is a distinction which I have
long sought, but very little expected at the present moment. My dear Mrs
Chick - may I say Louisa!'
Mrs Chick took Miss Tox's hand in hers, rested the foot of her
wine-glass upon it, repressed a tear, and said in a low voice, 'God bless
you!'
'My dear Louisa then,' said Miss Tox, 'my sweet friend, how are you
now?'
'Better,' Mrs Chick returned. 'Take some wine. You have been almost as
anxious as I have been, and must want it, I am sure.'
Mr Dombey of course officiated, and also refilled his sister's glass,
which she (looking another way, and unconscious of his intention) held
straight and steady the while, and then regarded with great astonishment,
saying, 'My dear Paul, what have you been doing!'
'Miss Tox, Paul,' pursued Mrs Chick, still retaining her hand, 'knowing
how much I have been interested in the anticipation of the event of to-day,
and how trembly and shaky I have been from head to foot in expectation of
it, has been working at a little gift for Fanny, which I promised to
present. Miss Tox is ingenuity itself.'
'My dear Louisa,' said Miss Tox. 'Don't say so.
'It is only a pincushion for the toilette table, Paul,' resumed his
sister; 'one of those trifles which are insignificant to your sex in
general, as it's very natural they should be - we have no business to expect
they should be otherwise - but to which we attach some interest.
'Miss Tox is very good,' said Mr Dombey.
'And I do say, and will say, and must say,' pursued his sister,
pressing the foot of the wine-glass on Miss Tox's hand, at each of the three
clauses, 'that Miss Tox has very prettily adapted the sentiment to the
occasion. I call "Welcome little Dombey" Poetry, myself!'
'Is that the device?' inquired her brother.
'That is the device,' returned Louisa.
'But do me the justice to remember, my dear Louisa,' said Miss Toxin a
tone of low and earnest entreaty, 'that nothing but the - I have some
difficulty in expressing myself - the dubiousness of the result would have
induced me to take so great a liberty: "Welcome, Master Dombey," would have
been much more congenial to my feelings, as I am sure you know. But the
uncertainty attendant on angelic strangers, will, I hope, excuse what must
otherwise appear an unwarrantable familiarity.' Miss Tox made a graceful
bend as she spoke, in favour of Mr Dombey, which that gentleman graciously
acknowledged. Even the sort of recognition of Dombey and Son, conveyed in
the foregoing conversation, was so palatable to him, that his sister, Mrs
Chick - though he affected to consider her a weak good-natured person - had
perhaps more influence over him than anybody else.
'My dear Paul,' that lady broke out afresh, after silently
contemplating his features for a few moments, 'I don't know whether to laugh
or cry when I look at you, I declare, you do so remind me of that dear baby
upstairs.'
'Well!' said Mrs Chick, with a sweet smile, 'after this, I forgive
Fanny everything!'
It was a declaration in a Christian spirit, and Mrs Chick felt that it
did her good. Not that she had anything particular to forgive in her
sister-in-law, nor indeed anything at all, except her having married her
brother - in itself a species of audacity - and her having, in the course of
events, given birth to a girl instead of a boy: which, as Mrs Chick had
frequently observed, was not quite what she had expected of her, and was not
a pleasant return for all the attention and distinction she had met with.
Mr Dombey being hastily summoned out of the room at this moment, the
two ladies were left alone together. Miss Tox immediately became spasmodic.
'I knew you would admire my brother. I told you so beforehand, my
dear,' said Louisa. Miss Tox's hands and eyes expressed how much. 'And as to
his property, my dear!'
'Ah!' said Miss Tox, with deep feeling. 'Im-mense!'
'But his deportment, my dear Louisa!' said Miss Tox. 'His presence! His
dignity! No portrait that I have ever seen of anyone has been half so
replete with those qualities. Something so stately, you know: so
uncompromising: so very wide across the chest: so upright! A pecuniary Duke
of York, my love, and nothing short of it!' said Miss Tox. 'That's what I
should designate him.'
'Why, my dear Paul!' exclaimed his sister, as he returned, 'you look
quite pale! There's nothing the matter?'
'I am sorry to say, Louisa, that they tell me that Fanny - '
'Now, my dear Paul,' returned his sister rising, 'don't believe it. Do
not allow yourself to receive a turn unnecessarily. Remember of what
importance you are to society, and do not allow yourself to be worried by
what is so very inconsiderately told you by people who ought to know better.
Really I'm surprised at them.'
'I hope I know, Louisa,' said Mr Dombey, stiffly, 'how to bear myself
before the world.'
'Nobody better, my dear Paul. Nobody half so well. They would be
ignorant and base indeed who doubted it.'
'Ignorant and base indeed!' echoed Miss Tox softly.
'But,' pursued Louisa, 'if you have any reliance on my experience,
Paul, you may rest assured that there is nothing wanting but an effort on
Fanny's part. And that effort,' she continued, taking off her bonnet, and
adjusting her cap and gloves, in a business-like manner, 'she must be
encouraged, and really, if necessary, urged to make. Now, my dear Paul, come
upstairs with me.'
Mr Dombey, who, besides being generally influenced by his sister for
the reason already mentioned, had really faith in her as an experienced and
bustling matron, acquiesced; and followed her, at once, to the sick chamber.
The lady lay upon her bed as he had left her, clasping her little
daughter to her breast. The child clung close about her, with the same
intensity as before, and never raised her head, or moved her soft cheek from
her mother's face, or looked on those who stood around, or spoke, or moved,
or shed a tear.
'Restless without the little girl,' the Doctor whispered Mr Dombey. 'We
found it best to have her in again.'
'Can nothing be done?' asked Mr Dombey.
The Doctor shook his head. 'We can do no more.'
The windows stood open, and the twilight was gathering without.
The scent of the restoratives that had been tried was pungent in the
room, but had no fragrance in the dull and languid air the lady breathed.
There was such a solemn stillness round the bed; and the two medical
attendants seemed to look on the impassive form with so much compassion and
so little hope, that Mrs Chick was for the moment diverted from her purpose.
But presently summoning courage, and what she called presence of mind, she
sat down by the bedside, and said in the low precise tone of one who
endeavours to awaken a sleeper:
'Fanny! Fanny!'
There was no sound in answer but the loud ticking of Mr Dombey's watch
and Doctor Parker Peps's watch, which seemed in the silence to be running a
race.
'Fanny, my dear,' said Mrs Chick, with assumed lightness, 'here's Mr
Dombey come to see you. Won't you speak to him? They want to lay your little
boy - the baby, Fanny, you know; you have hardly seen him yet, I think - in
bed; but they can't till you rouse yourself a little. Don't you think it's
time you roused yourself a little? Eh?'
She bent her ear to the bed, and listened: at the same time looking
round at the bystanders, and holding up her finger.
'Eh?' she repeated, 'what was it you said, Fanny? I didn't hear you.'
No word or sound in answer. Mr Dombey's watch and Dr Parker Peps's
watch seemed to be racing faster.
'Now, really, Fanny my dear,' said the sister-in-law, altering her
position, and speaking less confidently, and more earnestly, in spite of
herself, 'I shall have to be quite cross with you, if you don't rouse
yourself. It's necessary for you to make an effort, and perhaps a very great
and painful effort which you are not disposed to make; but this is a world
of effort you know, Fanny, and we must never yield, when so much depends
upon us. Come! Try! I must really scold you if you don't!'
The race in the ensuing pause was fierce and furious. The watches
seemed to jostle, and to trip each other up.
'Fanny!' said Louisa, glancing round, with a gathering alarm. 'Only
look at me. Only open your eyes to show me that you hear and understand me;
will you? Good Heaven, gentlemen, what is to be done!'
The two medical attendants exchanged a look across the bed; and the
Physician, stooping down, whispered in the child's ear. Not having
understood the purport of his whisper, the little creature turned her
perfectly colourless face and deep dark eyes towards him; but without
loosening her hold in the least
The whisper was repeated.
'Mama!' said the child.
The little voice, familiar and dearly loved, awakened some show of
consciousness, even at that ebb. For a moment, the closed eye lids trembled,
and the nostril quivered, and the faintest shadow of a smile was seen.
'Mama!' cried the child sobbing aloud. 'Oh dear Mama! oh dear Mama!'
The Doctor gently brushed the scattered ringlets of the child, aside
from the face and mouth of the mother. Alas how calm they lay there; how
little breath there was to stir them!
Thus, clinging fast to that slight spar within her arms, the mother
drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that rolls round all the world.
In which Timely Provision is made for an Emergency that will sometimes
arise in the best-regulated Families
'I shall never cease to congratulate myself,' said Mrs Chick,' on
having said, when I little thought what was in store for us, - really as if
I was inspired by something, - that I forgave poor dear Fanny everything.
Whatever happens, that must always be a comfort to me!'
Mrs Chick made this impressive observation in the drawing-room, after
having descended thither from the inspection of the mantua-makers upstairs,
who were busy on the family mourning. She delivered it for the behoof of Mr
Chick, who was a stout bald gentleman, with a very large face, and his hands
continually in his pockets, and who had a tendency in his nature to whistle
and hum tunes, which, sensible of the indecorum of such sounds in a house of
grief, he was at some pains to repress at present.
'Don't you over-exert yourself, Loo,' said Mr Chick, 'or you'll be laid
up with spasms, I see. Right tol loor rul! Bless my soul, I forgot! We're
here one day and gone the next!'
Mrs Chick contented herself with a glance of reproof, and then
proceeded with the thread of her discourse.
'I am sure,' she said, 'I hope this heart-rending occurrence will be a
warning to all of us, to accustom ourselves to rouse ourselves, and to make
efforts in time where they're required of us. There's a moral in everything,
if we would only avail ourselves of it. It will be our own faults if we lose
sight of this one.'
Mr Chick invaded the grave silence which ensued on this remark with the
singularly inappropriate air of 'A cobbler there was;' and checking himself,
in some confusion, observed, that it was undoubtedly our own faults if we
didn't improve such melancholy occasions as the present.
'Which might be better improved, I should think, Mr C.,' retorted his
helpmate, after a short pause, 'than by the introduction, either of the
college hornpipe, or the equally unmeaning and unfeeling remark of
rump-te-iddity, bow-wow-wow!' - which Mr Chick had indeed indulged in, under
his breath, and which Mrs Chick repeated in a tone of withering scorn.
'Merely habit, my dear,' pleaded Mr Chick.
'Nonsense! Habit!' returned his wife. 'If you're a rational being,
don't make such ridiculous excuses. Habit! If I was to get a habit (as you
call it) of walking on the ceiling, like the flies, I should hear enough of
it, I daresay.
It appeared so probable that such a habit might be attended with some
degree of notoriety, that Mr Chick didn't venture to dispute the position.
'Bow-wow-wow!' repeated Mrs Chick with an emphasis of blighting
contempt on the last syllable. 'More like a professional singer with the
hydrophobia, than a man in your station of life!'
'How's the Baby, Loo?' asked Mr Chick: to change the subject.
'What Baby do you mean?' answered Mrs Chick.
'The poor bereaved little baby,' said Mr Chick. 'I don't know of any
other, my dear.'
'You don't know of any other,'retorted Mrs Chick. 'More shame for you,
I was going to say.
Mr Chick looked astonished.
'I am sure the morning I have had, with that dining-room downstairs,
one mass of babies, no one in their senses would believe.'
'One mass of babies!' repeated Mr Chick, staring with an alarmed
expression about him.
are changing all over the world, be sure to check the copyright laws for
your country before posting these files!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below. We need your donations.
Dombey and Son
by Charles Dickens
February, 1997 [Etext #821]
***The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dombey and Son, by Dickens***
*****This file should be named domby10.txt or domby10.zip******
Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, domby11.txt.
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, domby10a.txt.
Dombey and Son was contributed by:
Neil McLachlan, nmclachlan@delphi.com
and Ted Davis, 101515.3105@compuserve.com
on behalf of the Talking Newspaper of the UK (TNAUK).
A Kurzweil flatbed scanner and Xerox Discover software were used to
produce the raw text files, which were edited using the TSEJR ASCII
text editor, with a user lexicon specially developed for this purpose.
Words split at the end of lines have been re-united, maintaining
hyphenation where appropriate; except for the Prefaces, the text has
been reformatted to 70 columns.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.
Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text
files per month: or 400 more Etexts in 1996 for a total of 800.
If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the
total should reach 80 billion Etexts. We will try add 800 more,
during 1997, but it will take all the effort we can manage to do
the doubling of our library again this year, what with the other
massive requirements it is going to take to get incorporated and
establish something that will have some permanence.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001
should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it
will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001.
We need your donations more than ever!
All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg"
For these and other matters, please mail to:
Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Executive Director:
Michael S. Hart
We would prefer to send you this information by email
(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).
******
If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please
FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:
[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]
ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd etext/etext90 through /etext97
or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET INDEX?00.GUT
for a list of books
and
GET NEW GUT for general information
and
MGET GUT* for newsletters.
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States
copyright on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy
and distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
"Small Print!" statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the
net profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to "Project Gutenberg Association within the 60
days following each date you prepare (or were legally
required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent periodic)
tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg
Association".
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
Dombey and Son was contributed by:
Neil McLachlan, nmclachlan@delphi.com
and Ted Davis, 101515.3105@compuserve.com
on behalf of the Talking Newspaper of the UK (TNAUK).
Production:
A Kurzweil flatbed scanner and Xerox Discover software was used to
produce the raw text files, which were edited using the TSEJR ASCII
text editor, with a user lexicon specially developed for this purpose.
Words split at the end of lines have been re-united, maintaining
hyphenation where appropriate; except for the Prefaces, the text has
been reformatted to 70 columns.
Structure:
Contents
Chapters 1 to 62
Preface of 1848
Preface of 1867
1. Dombey and Son
2. In which Timely Provision is made for an Emergency that
will sometimes arise in the best-regulated Families
3. In which Mr Dombey, as a Man and a Father, is seen at the
Head of the Home-Department
4. In which some more First Appearances are made on the
Stage of these Adventures
5. Paul's Progress and Christening
6. Paul's Second Deprivation
7. A Bird's-eye Glimpse of Miss Tox's Dwelling-place; also
of the State of Miss Tox's Affections
8. Paul's further Progress, Growth, and Character
9. In which the Wooden Midshipman gets into Trouble 10. Containing the
Sequel of the Midshipman's Disaster 11. Paul's Introduction to a New Scene
12. Paul's Education 13. Shipping Intelligence and Office Business 14. Paul
grows more and more Old-fashioned, and goes Home
for the holidays 15. Amazing Artfulness of Captain Cuttle, and a new
Pursuit
for Walter Gay 16. What the Waves were always saying 17. Captain Cuttle
does a little Business for the Young people 18. Father and Daughter 19.
Walter goes away 20. Mr Dombey goes upon a journey 21. New Faces 22. A
Trifle of Management by Mr Carker the Manager 23. Florence solitary, and the
Midshipman mysterious 24. The Study of a Loving Heart 25. Strange News of
Uncle Sol 26. Shadows of the Past and Future 27. Deeper shadows 28.
Alterations 29. The Opening of the Eyes of Mrs Chick 30. The Interval before
the Marriage 31. The Wedding 32. The Wooden Midshipman goes to Pieces 33.
Contrasts 34. Another Mother and Daughter 35. The Happy Pair 36.
Housewarming 37. More Warnings than One 38. Miss Tox improves an Old
Acquaintance 39. Further Adventures of Captain Edward Cuttle, Mariner 40.
Domestic Relations 41. New Voices in the Waves 42. Confidential and
Accidental 43. The Watches of the Night 44. A Separation 45. The Trusty
Agent 46. Recognizant and Reflective 47. The Thunderbolt 48. The Flight of
Florence 49. The Midshipman makes a Discovery 50. Mr Toots's Complaint 51.
Mr Dombey and the World 52. Secret Intelligence 53. More Intelligence 54.
The Fugitives 55. Rob the Grinder loses his Place 56. Several People
delighted, and the Game Chicken disgusted 57. Another Wedding 58. After a
Lapse 59. Retribution 60. Chiefly Matrimonial 61. Relenting 62. Final
Dombey and Son
Dombey sat in the corner of the darkened room in the great arm-chair by
the bedside, and Son lay tucked up warm in a little basket bedstead,
carefully disposed on a low settee immediately in front of the fire and
close to it, as if his constitution were analogous to that of a muffin, and
it was essential to toast him brown while he was very new.
Dombey was about eight-and-forty years of age. Son about
eight-and-forty minutes. Dombey was rather bald, rather red, and though a
handsome well-made man, too stern and pompous in appearance, to be
prepossessing. Son was very bald, and very red, and though (of course) an
undeniably fine infant, somewhat crushed and spotty in his general effect,
as yet. On the brow of Dombey, Time and his brother Care had set some marks,
as on a tree that was to come down in good time - remorseless twins they are
for striding through their human forests, notching as they go - while the
countenance of Son was crossed with a thousand little creases, which the
same deceitful Time would take delight in smoothing out and wearing away
with the flat part of his scythe, as a preparation of the surface for his
deeper operations.
Dombey, exulting in the long-looked-for event, jingled and jingled the
heavy gold watch-chain that depended from below his trim blue coat, whereof
the buttons sparkled phosphorescently in the feeble rays of the distant
fire. Son, with his little fists curled up and clenched, seemed, in his
feeble way, to be squaring at existence for having come upon him so
unexpectedly.
'The House will once again, Mrs Dombey,' said Mr Dombey, 'be not only
in name but in fact Dombey and Son;' and he added, in a tone of luxurious
satisfaction, with his eyes half-closed as if he were reading the name in a
device of flowers, and inhaling their fragrance at the same time; 'Dom-bey
and Son!'
The words had such a softening influence, that he appended a term of
endearment to Mrs Dombey's name (though not without some hesitation, as
being a man but little used to that form of address): and said, 'Mrs Dombey,
my - my dear.'
A transient flush of faint surprise overspread the sick lady's face as
she raised her eyes towards him.
'He will be christened Paul, my - Mrs Dombey - of course.'
She feebly echoed, 'Of course,' or rather expressed it by the motion of
her lips, and closed her eyes again.
'His father's name, Mrs Dombey, and his grandfather's! I wish his
grandfather were alive this day! There is some inconvenience in the
necessity of writing Junior,' said Mr Dombey, making a fictitious autograph
on his knee; 'but it is merely of a private and personal complexion. It
doesn't enter into the correspondence of the House. Its signature remains
the same.' And again he said 'Dombey and Son, in exactly the same tone as
before.
Those three words conveyed the one idea of Mr Dombey's life. The earth
was made for Dombey and Son to trade in, and the sun and moon were made to
give them light. Rivers and seas were formed to float their ships; rainbows
gave them promise of fair weather; winds blew for or against their
enterprises; stars and planets circled in their orbits, to preserve
inviolate a system of which they were the centre. Common abbreviations took
new meanings in his eyes, and had sole reference to them. A. D. had no
concern with Anno Domini, but stood for anno Dombey - and Son.
He had risen, as his father had before him, in the course of life and
death, from Son to Dombey, and for nearly twenty years had been the sole
representative of the Firm. Of those years he had been married, ten -
married, as some said, to a lady with no heart to give him; whose happiness
was in the past, and who was content to bind her broken spirit to the
dutiful and meek endurance of the present. Such idle talk was little likely
to reach the ears of Mr Dombey, whom it nearly concerned; and probably no
one in the world would have received it with such utter incredulity as he,
if it had reached him. Dombey and Son had often dealt in hides, but never in
hearts. They left that fancy ware to boys and girls, and boarding-schools
and books. Mr Dombey would have reasoned: That a matrimonial alliance with
himself must, in the nature of things, be gratifying and honourable to any
woman of common sense. That the hope of giving birth to a new partner in
such a House, could not fail to awaken a glorious and stirring ambition in
the breast of the least ambitious of her sex. That Mrs Dombey had entered on
that social contract of matrimony: almost necessarily part of a genteel and
wealthy station, even without reference to the perpetuation of family Firms:
with her eyes fully open to these advantages. That Mrs Dombey had had daily
practical knowledge of his position in society. That Mrs Dombey had always
sat at the head of his table, and done the honours of his house in a
remarkably lady-like and becoming manner. That Mrs Dombey must have been
happy. That she couldn't help it.
Or, at all events, with one drawback. Yes. That he would have allowed.
With only one; but that one certainly involving much. With the drawback of
hope deferred. That hope deferred, which, (as the Scripture very correctly
tells us, Mr Dombey would have added in a patronising way; for his highest
distinct idea even of Scripture, if examined, would have been found to be;
that as forming part of a general whole, of which Dombey and Son formed
another part, it was therefore to be commended and upheld) maketh the heart
sick. They had been married ten years, and until this present day on which
Mr Dombey sat jingling and jingling his heavy gold watch-chain in the great
arm-chair by the side of the bed, had had no issue.
- To speak of; none worth mentioning. There had been a girl some six
years before, and the child, who had stolen into the chamber unobserved, was
now crouching timidly, in a corner whence she could see her mother's face.
But what was a girl to Dombey and Son! In the capital of the House's name
and dignity, such a child was merely a piece of base coin that couldn't be
invested - a bad Boy - nothing more.
Mr Dombey's cup of satisfaction was so full at this moment, however,
that he felt he could afford a drop or two of its contents, even to sprinkle
on the dust in the by-path of his little daughter.
So he said, 'Florence, you may go and look at your pretty brother, if
you lIke, I daresay. Don't touch him!'
The child glanced keenly at the blue coat and stiff white cravat,
which, with a pair of creaking boots and a very loud ticking watch, embodied
her idea of a father; but her eyes returned to her mother's face
immediately, and she neither moved nor answered.
'Her insensibility is as proof against a brother as against every thing
else,' said Mr Dombey to himself He seemed so confirmed in a previous
opinion by the discovery, as to be quite glad of it'
Next moment, the lady had opened her eyes and seen the child; and the
child had run towards her; and, standing on tiptoe, the better to hide her
face in her embrace, had clung about her with a desperate affection very
much at variance with her years.
'Oh Lord bless me!' said Mr Dombey, rising testily. 'A very illadvised
and feverish proceeding this, I am sure. Please to ring there for Miss
Florence's nurse. Really the person should be more care-'
'Wait! I - had better ask Doctor Peps if he'll have the goodness to
step upstairs again perhaps. I'll go down. I'll go down. I needn't beg you,'
he added, pausing for a moment at the settee before the fire, 'to take
particular care of this young gentleman, Mrs - '
'Blockitt, Sir?' suggested the nurse, a simpering piece of faded
gentility, who did not presume to state her name as a fact, but merely
offered it as a mild suggestion.
'Of this young gentleman, Mrs Blockitt.'
'No, Sir, indeed. I remember when Miss Florence was born - '
'Ay, ay, ay,' said Mr Dombey, bending over the basket bedstead, and
slightly bending his brows at the same time. 'Miss Florence was all very
well, but this is another matter. This young gentleman has to accomplish a
destiny. A destiny, little fellow!' As he thus apostrophised the infant he
raised one of his hands to his lips, and kissed it; then, seeming to fear
that the action involved some compromise of his dignity, went, awkwardly
enough, away.
Doctor Parker Peps, one of the Court Physicians, and a man of immense
reputation for assisting at the increase of great families, was walking up
and down the drawing-room with his hands behind him, to the unspeakable
admiration of the family Surgeon, who had regularly puffed the case for the
last six weeks, among all his patients, friends, and acquaintances, as one
to which he was in hourly expectation day and night of being summoned, in
conjunction with Doctor Parker Pep.
'Well, Sir,' said Doctor Parker Peps in a round, deep, sonorous voice,
muffled for the occasion, like the knocker; 'do you find that your dear lady
is at all roused by your visit?'
'Stimulated as it were?' said the family practitioner faintly: bowing
at the same time to the Doctor, as much as to say, 'Excuse my putting in a
word, but this is a valuable connexion.'
Mr Dombey was quite discomfited by the question. He had thought so
little of the patient, that he was not in a condition to answer it. He said
that it would be a satisfaction to him, if Doctor Parker Peps would walk
upstairs again.
'Good! We must not disguise from you, Sir,' said Doctor Parker Peps,
'that there is a want of power in Her Grace the Duchess - I beg your pardon;
I confound names; I should say, in your amiable lady. That there is a
certain degree of languor, and a general absence of elasticity, which we
would rather - not -
'See,' interposed the family practitioner with another inclination of
the head.
'Quite so,' said Doctor Parker Peps,' which we would rather not see. It
would appear that the system of Lady Cankaby - excuse me: I should say of
Mrs Dombey: I confuse the names of cases - '
'So very numerous,' murmured the family practitioner - 'can't be
expected I'm sure - quite wonderful if otherwise - Doctor Parker Peps's
West-End practice - '
'Thank you,' said the Doctor, 'quite so. It would appear, I was
observing, that the system of our patient has sustained a shock, from which
it can only hope to rally by a great and strong - '
'And vigorous,' murmured the family practitioner.
'Quite so,' assented the Doctor - 'and vigorous effort. Mr Pilkins
here, who from his position of medical adviser in this family - no one
better qualified to fill that position, I am sure.'
'Oh!' murmured the family practitioner. '"Praise from Sir Hubert
Stanley!"'
'You are good enough,' returned Doctor Parker Peps, 'to say so. Mr
Pilkins who, from his position, is best acquainted with the patient's
constitution in its normal state (an acquaintance very valuable to us in
forming our opinions in these occasions), is of opinion, with me, that
Nature must be called upon to make a vigorous effort in this instance; and
that if our interesting friend the Countess of Dombey - I beg your pardon;
Mrs Dombey - should not be - '
'Able,' said the family practitioner.
'To make,' said Doctor Parker Peps.
'That effort,' said the family practitioner.
'Successfully,' said they both together.
'Then,' added Doctor Parker Peps, alone and very gravely, a crisis
might arise, which we should both sincerely deplore.'
With that, they stood for a few seconds looking at the ground. Then, on
the motion - made in dumb show - of Doctor Parker Peps, they went upstairs;
the family practitioner opening the room door for that distinguished
professional, and following him out, with most obsequious politeness.
To record of Mr Dombey that he was not in his way affected by this
intelligence, would be to do him an injustice. He was not a man of whom it
could properly be said that he was ever startled, or shocked; but he
certainly had a sense within him, that if his wife should sicken and decay,
he would be very sorry, and that he would find a something gone from among
his plate and furniture, and other household possessions, which was well
worth the having, and could not be lost without sincere regret. Though it
would be a cool,. business-like, gentlemanly, self-possessed regret, no
doubt.
His meditations on the subject were soon interrupted, first by the
rustling of garments on the staircase, and then by the sudden whisking into
the room of a lady rather past the middle age than otherwise but dressed in
a very juvenile manner, particularly as to the tightness of her bodice, who,
running up to him with a kind of screw in her face and carriage, expressive
of suppressed emotion, flung her arms around his neck, and said, in a
choking voice,
'My dear Paul! He's quite a Dombey!'
'Well, well!' returned her brother - for Mr Dombey was her brother - 'I
think he is like the family. Don't agitate yourself, Louisa.'
'It's very foolish of me,' said Louisa, sitting down, and taking out
her pocket~handkerchief, 'but he's - he's such a perfect Dombey!'
Mr Dombey coughed.
'It's so extraordinary,' said Louisa; smiling through her tears, which
indeed were not overpowering, 'as to be perfectly ridiculous. So completely
our family. I never saw anything like it in my life!'
'But what is this about Fanny, herself?' said Mr Dombey. 'How is
Fanny?'
'My dear Paul,' returned Louisa, 'it's nothing whatever. Take my word,
it's nothing whatever. There is exhaustion, certainly, but nothing like what
I underwent myself, either with George or Frederick. An effort is necessary.
That's all. If dear Fanny were a Dombey! - But I daresay she'll make it; I
have no doubt she'll make it. Knowing it to be required of her, as a duty,
of course she'll make it. My dear Paul, it's very weak and silly of me, I
know, to be so trembly and shaky from head to foot; but I am so very queer
that I must ask you for a glass of wine and a morsel of that cake.'
Mr Dombey promptly supplied her with these refreshments from a tray on
the table.
'I shall not drink my love to you, Paul,' said Louisa: 'I shall drink
to the little Dombey. Good gracious me! - it's the most astonishing thing I
ever knew in all my days, he's such a perfect Dombey.'
Quenching this expression of opinion in a short hysterical laugh which
terminated in tears, Louisa cast up her eyes, and emptied her glass.
'I know it's very weak and silly of me,' she repeated, 'to be so
trembly and shaky from head to foot, and to allow my feelings so completely
to get the better of me, but I cannot help it. I thought I should have
fallen out of the staircase window as I came down from seeing dear Fanny,
and that tiddy ickle sing.' These last words originated in a sudden vivid
reminiscence of the baby.
They were succeeded by a gentle tap at the door.
'Mrs Chick,' said a very bland female voice outside, 'how are you now,
my dear friend?'
'My dear Paul,' said Louisa in a low voice, as she rose from her seat,
'it's Miss Tox. The kindest creature! I never could have got here without
her! Miss Tox, my brother Mr Dombey. Paul, my dear, my very particular
friend Miss Tox.'
The lady thus specially presented, was a long lean figure, wearing such
a faded air that she seemed not to have been made in what linen-drapers call
'fast colours' originally, and to have, by little and little, washed out.
But for this she might have been described as the very pink of general
propitiation and politeness. From a long habit of listening admiringly to
everything that was said in her presence, and looking at the speakers as if
she were mentally engaged in taking off impressions of their images upon her
soul, never to part with the same but with life, her head had quite settled
on one side. Her hands had contracted a spasmodic habit of raising
themselves of their own accord as in involuntary admiration. Her eyes were
liable to a similar affection. She had the softest voice that ever was
heard; and her nose, stupendously aquiline, had a little knob in the very
centre or key-stone of the bridge, whence it tended downwards towards her
face, as in an invincible determination never to turn up at anything.
Miss Tox's dress, though perfectly genteel and good, had a certain
character of angularity and scantiness. She was accustomed to wear odd weedy
little flowers in her bonnets and caps. Strange grasses were sometimes
perceived in her hair; and it was observed by the curious, of all her
collars, frills, tuckers, wristbands, and other gossamer articles - indeed
of everything she wore which had two ends to it intended to unite - that the
two ends were never on good terms, and wouldn't quite meet without a
struggle. She had furry articles for winter wear, as tippets, boas, and
muffs, which stood up on end in rampant manner, and were not at all sleek.
She was much given to the carrying about of small bags with snaps to them,
that went off like little pistols when they were shut up; and when
full-dressed, she wore round her neck the barrenest of lockets, representing
a fishy old eye, with no approach to speculation in it. These and other
appearances of a similar nature, had served to propagate the opinion, that
Miss Tox was a lady of what is called a limited independence, which she
turned to the best account. Possibly her mincing gait encouraged the belief,
and suggested that her clipping a step of ordinary compass into two or
three, originated in her habit of making the most of everything.
'I am sure,' said Miss Tox, with a prodigious curtsey, 'that to have
the honour of being presented to Mr Dombey is a distinction which I have
long sought, but very little expected at the present moment. My dear Mrs
Chick - may I say Louisa!'
Mrs Chick took Miss Tox's hand in hers, rested the foot of her
wine-glass upon it, repressed a tear, and said in a low voice, 'God bless
you!'
'My dear Louisa then,' said Miss Tox, 'my sweet friend, how are you
now?'
'Better,' Mrs Chick returned. 'Take some wine. You have been almost as
anxious as I have been, and must want it, I am sure.'
Mr Dombey of course officiated, and also refilled his sister's glass,
which she (looking another way, and unconscious of his intention) held
straight and steady the while, and then regarded with great astonishment,
saying, 'My dear Paul, what have you been doing!'
'Miss Tox, Paul,' pursued Mrs Chick, still retaining her hand, 'knowing
how much I have been interested in the anticipation of the event of to-day,
and how trembly and shaky I have been from head to foot in expectation of
it, has been working at a little gift for Fanny, which I promised to
present. Miss Tox is ingenuity itself.'
'My dear Louisa,' said Miss Tox. 'Don't say so.
'It is only a pincushion for the toilette table, Paul,' resumed his
sister; 'one of those trifles which are insignificant to your sex in
general, as it's very natural they should be - we have no business to expect
they should be otherwise - but to which we attach some interest.
'Miss Tox is very good,' said Mr Dombey.
'And I do say, and will say, and must say,' pursued his sister,
pressing the foot of the wine-glass on Miss Tox's hand, at each of the three
clauses, 'that Miss Tox has very prettily adapted the sentiment to the
occasion. I call "Welcome little Dombey" Poetry, myself!'
'Is that the device?' inquired her brother.
'That is the device,' returned Louisa.
'But do me the justice to remember, my dear Louisa,' said Miss Toxin a
tone of low and earnest entreaty, 'that nothing but the - I have some
difficulty in expressing myself - the dubiousness of the result would have
induced me to take so great a liberty: "Welcome, Master Dombey," would have
been much more congenial to my feelings, as I am sure you know. But the
uncertainty attendant on angelic strangers, will, I hope, excuse what must
otherwise appear an unwarrantable familiarity.' Miss Tox made a graceful
bend as she spoke, in favour of Mr Dombey, which that gentleman graciously
acknowledged. Even the sort of recognition of Dombey and Son, conveyed in
the foregoing conversation, was so palatable to him, that his sister, Mrs
Chick - though he affected to consider her a weak good-natured person - had
perhaps more influence over him than anybody else.
'My dear Paul,' that lady broke out afresh, after silently
contemplating his features for a few moments, 'I don't know whether to laugh
or cry when I look at you, I declare, you do so remind me of that dear baby
upstairs.'
'Well!' said Mrs Chick, with a sweet smile, 'after this, I forgive
Fanny everything!'
It was a declaration in a Christian spirit, and Mrs Chick felt that it
did her good. Not that she had anything particular to forgive in her
sister-in-law, nor indeed anything at all, except her having married her
brother - in itself a species of audacity - and her having, in the course of
events, given birth to a girl instead of a boy: which, as Mrs Chick had
frequently observed, was not quite what she had expected of her, and was not
a pleasant return for all the attention and distinction she had met with.
Mr Dombey being hastily summoned out of the room at this moment, the
two ladies were left alone together. Miss Tox immediately became spasmodic.
'I knew you would admire my brother. I told you so beforehand, my
dear,' said Louisa. Miss Tox's hands and eyes expressed how much. 'And as to
his property, my dear!'
'Ah!' said Miss Tox, with deep feeling. 'Im-mense!'
'But his deportment, my dear Louisa!' said Miss Tox. 'His presence! His
dignity! No portrait that I have ever seen of anyone has been half so
replete with those qualities. Something so stately, you know: so
uncompromising: so very wide across the chest: so upright! A pecuniary Duke
of York, my love, and nothing short of it!' said Miss Tox. 'That's what I
should designate him.'
'Why, my dear Paul!' exclaimed his sister, as he returned, 'you look
quite pale! There's nothing the matter?'
'I am sorry to say, Louisa, that they tell me that Fanny - '
'Now, my dear Paul,' returned his sister rising, 'don't believe it. Do
not allow yourself to receive a turn unnecessarily. Remember of what
importance you are to society, and do not allow yourself to be worried by
what is so very inconsiderately told you by people who ought to know better.
Really I'm surprised at them.'
'I hope I know, Louisa,' said Mr Dombey, stiffly, 'how to bear myself
before the world.'
'Nobody better, my dear Paul. Nobody half so well. They would be
ignorant and base indeed who doubted it.'
'Ignorant and base indeed!' echoed Miss Tox softly.
'But,' pursued Louisa, 'if you have any reliance on my experience,
Paul, you may rest assured that there is nothing wanting but an effort on
Fanny's part. And that effort,' she continued, taking off her bonnet, and
adjusting her cap and gloves, in a business-like manner, 'she must be
encouraged, and really, if necessary, urged to make. Now, my dear Paul, come
upstairs with me.'
Mr Dombey, who, besides being generally influenced by his sister for
the reason already mentioned, had really faith in her as an experienced and
bustling matron, acquiesced; and followed her, at once, to the sick chamber.
The lady lay upon her bed as he had left her, clasping her little
daughter to her breast. The child clung close about her, with the same
intensity as before, and never raised her head, or moved her soft cheek from
her mother's face, or looked on those who stood around, or spoke, or moved,
or shed a tear.
'Restless without the little girl,' the Doctor whispered Mr Dombey. 'We
found it best to have her in again.'
'Can nothing be done?' asked Mr Dombey.
The Doctor shook his head. 'We can do no more.'
The windows stood open, and the twilight was gathering without.
The scent of the restoratives that had been tried was pungent in the
room, but had no fragrance in the dull and languid air the lady breathed.
There was such a solemn stillness round the bed; and the two medical
attendants seemed to look on the impassive form with so much compassion and
so little hope, that Mrs Chick was for the moment diverted from her purpose.
But presently summoning courage, and what she called presence of mind, she
sat down by the bedside, and said in the low precise tone of one who
endeavours to awaken a sleeper:
'Fanny! Fanny!'
There was no sound in answer but the loud ticking of Mr Dombey's watch
and Doctor Parker Peps's watch, which seemed in the silence to be running a
race.
'Fanny, my dear,' said Mrs Chick, with assumed lightness, 'here's Mr
Dombey come to see you. Won't you speak to him? They want to lay your little
boy - the baby, Fanny, you know; you have hardly seen him yet, I think - in
bed; but they can't till you rouse yourself a little. Don't you think it's
time you roused yourself a little? Eh?'
She bent her ear to the bed, and listened: at the same time looking
round at the bystanders, and holding up her finger.
'Eh?' she repeated, 'what was it you said, Fanny? I didn't hear you.'
No word or sound in answer. Mr Dombey's watch and Dr Parker Peps's
watch seemed to be racing faster.
'Now, really, Fanny my dear,' said the sister-in-law, altering her
position, and speaking less confidently, and more earnestly, in spite of
herself, 'I shall have to be quite cross with you, if you don't rouse
yourself. It's necessary for you to make an effort, and perhaps a very great
and painful effort which you are not disposed to make; but this is a world
of effort you know, Fanny, and we must never yield, when so much depends
upon us. Come! Try! I must really scold you if you don't!'
The race in the ensuing pause was fierce and furious. The watches
seemed to jostle, and to trip each other up.
'Fanny!' said Louisa, glancing round, with a gathering alarm. 'Only
look at me. Only open your eyes to show me that you hear and understand me;
will you? Good Heaven, gentlemen, what is to be done!'
The two medical attendants exchanged a look across the bed; and the
Physician, stooping down, whispered in the child's ear. Not having
understood the purport of his whisper, the little creature turned her
perfectly colourless face and deep dark eyes towards him; but without
loosening her hold in the least
The whisper was repeated.
'Mama!' said the child.
The little voice, familiar and dearly loved, awakened some show of
consciousness, even at that ebb. For a moment, the closed eye lids trembled,
and the nostril quivered, and the faintest shadow of a smile was seen.
'Mama!' cried the child sobbing aloud. 'Oh dear Mama! oh dear Mama!'
The Doctor gently brushed the scattered ringlets of the child, aside
from the face and mouth of the mother. Alas how calm they lay there; how
little breath there was to stir them!
Thus, clinging fast to that slight spar within her arms, the mother
drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that rolls round all the world.
In which Timely Provision is made for an Emergency that will sometimes
arise in the best-regulated Families
'I shall never cease to congratulate myself,' said Mrs Chick,' on
having said, when I little thought what was in store for us, - really as if
I was inspired by something, - that I forgave poor dear Fanny everything.
Whatever happens, that must always be a comfort to me!'
Mrs Chick made this impressive observation in the drawing-room, after
having descended thither from the inspection of the mantua-makers upstairs,
who were busy on the family mourning. She delivered it for the behoof of Mr
Chick, who was a stout bald gentleman, with a very large face, and his hands
continually in his pockets, and who had a tendency in his nature to whistle
and hum tunes, which, sensible of the indecorum of such sounds in a house of
grief, he was at some pains to repress at present.
'Don't you over-exert yourself, Loo,' said Mr Chick, 'or you'll be laid
up with spasms, I see. Right tol loor rul! Bless my soul, I forgot! We're
here one day and gone the next!'
Mrs Chick contented herself with a glance of reproof, and then
proceeded with the thread of her discourse.
'I am sure,' she said, 'I hope this heart-rending occurrence will be a
warning to all of us, to accustom ourselves to rouse ourselves, and to make
efforts in time where they're required of us. There's a moral in everything,
if we would only avail ourselves of it. It will be our own faults if we lose
sight of this one.'
Mr Chick invaded the grave silence which ensued on this remark with the
singularly inappropriate air of 'A cobbler there was;' and checking himself,
in some confusion, observed, that it was undoubtedly our own faults if we
didn't improve such melancholy occasions as the present.
'Which might be better improved, I should think, Mr C.,' retorted his
helpmate, after a short pause, 'than by the introduction, either of the
college hornpipe, or the equally unmeaning and unfeeling remark of
rump-te-iddity, bow-wow-wow!' - which Mr Chick had indeed indulged in, under
his breath, and which Mrs Chick repeated in a tone of withering scorn.
'Merely habit, my dear,' pleaded Mr Chick.
'Nonsense! Habit!' returned his wife. 'If you're a rational being,
don't make such ridiculous excuses. Habit! If I was to get a habit (as you
call it) of walking on the ceiling, like the flies, I should hear enough of
it, I daresay.
It appeared so probable that such a habit might be attended with some
degree of notoriety, that Mr Chick didn't venture to dispute the position.
'Bow-wow-wow!' repeated Mrs Chick with an emphasis of blighting
contempt on the last syllable. 'More like a professional singer with the
hydrophobia, than a man in your station of life!'
'How's the Baby, Loo?' asked Mr Chick: to change the subject.
'What Baby do you mean?' answered Mrs Chick.
'The poor bereaved little baby,' said Mr Chick. 'I don't know of any
other, my dear.'
'You don't know of any other,'retorted Mrs Chick. 'More shame for you,
I was going to say.
Mr Chick looked astonished.
'I am sure the morning I have had, with that dining-room downstairs,
one mass of babies, no one in their senses would believe.'
'One mass of babies!' repeated Mr Chick, staring with an alarmed
expression about him.