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man, and so she went to pieces, Beauty, and no grass will never grow upon
the graves of them as manned that ship.'
'They were not all lost!' cried Florence. 'Some were saved! - Was one?'
'Aboard o' that there unfort'nate wessel,' said the Captain, rising
from his chair, and clenching his hand with prodigious energy and
exultation, 'was a lad, a gallant lad - as I've heerd tell - that had loved,
when he was a boy, to read and talk about brave actions in shipwrecks - I've
heerd him! I've heerd him! - and he remembered of 'em in his hour of need;
for when the stoutest and oldest hands was hove down, he was firm and
cheery. It warn't the want of objects to like and love ashore that gave him
courage, it was his nat'ral mind. I've seen it in his face, when he was no
more than a child - ay, many a time! - and when I thought it nothing but his
good looks, bless him!'
'And was he saved!' cried Florence. 'Was he saved!'
'That brave lad,' said the Captain, - 'look at me, pretty! Don't look
round - '
Florence had hardly power to repeat, 'Why not?'
'Because there's nothing there, my deary,' said the Captain. 'Don't be
took aback, pretty creetur! Don't, for the sake of Wal'r, as was dear to all
on us! That there lad,' said the Captain, 'arter working with the best, and
standing by the faint-hearted, and never making no complaint nor sign of
fear, and keeping up a spirit in all hands that made 'em honour him as if
he'd been a admiral - that lad, along with the second-mate and one seaman,
was left, of all the beatin' hearts that went aboard that ship, the only
living creeturs - lashed to a fragment of the wreck, and driftin' on the
stormy sea.
Were they saved?' cried Florence.
'Days and nights they drifted on them endless waters,' said the
Captain, 'until at last - No! Don't look that way, pretty! - a sail bore
down upon 'em, and they was, by the Lord's mercy, took aboard: two living
and one dead.'
'Which of them was dead?' cried Florence.
'Not the lad I speak on,' said the Captain.
'Thank God! oh thank God!'
'Amen!' returned the Captain hurriedly. 'Don't be took aback! A minute
more, my lady lass! with a good heart! - aboard that ship, they went a long
voyage, right away across the chart (for there warn't no touching nowhere),
and on that voyage the seaman as was picked up with him died. But he was
spared, and - '
The Captain, without knowing what he did, had cut a slice of bread from
the loaf, and put it on his hook (which was his usual toasting-fork), on
which he now held it to the fire; looking behind Florence with great emotion
in his face, and suffering the bread to blaze and burn like fuel.
'Was spared,' repeated Florence, 'and-?'
'And come home in that ship,' said the Captain, still looking in the
same direction, 'and - don't be frightened, pretty - and landed; and one
morning come cautiously to his own door to take a obserwation, knowing that
his friends would think him drownded, when he sheered off at the unexpected
- '
'At the unexpected barking of a dog?' cried Florence, quickly.
'Yes,' roared the Captain. 'Steady, darling! courage! Don't look round
yet. See there! upon the wall!'
There was the shadow of a man upon the wall close to her. She started
up, looked round, and with a piercing cry, saw Walter Gay behind her!
She had no thought of him but as a brother, a brother rescued from the
grave; a shipwrecked brother saved and at her side; and rushed into his
arms. In all the world, he seemed to be her hope, her comfort, refuge,
natural protector. 'Take care of Walter, I was fond of Walter!' The dear
remembrance of the plaintive voice that said so, rushed upon her soul, like
music in the night. 'Oh welcome home, dear Walter! Welcome to this stricken
breast!' She felt the words, although she could not utter them, and held him
in her pure embrace.
Captain Cuttle, in a fit of delirium, attempted to wipe his head with
the blackened toast upon his hook: and finding it an uncongenial substance
for the purpose, put it into the crown of his glazed hat, put the glazed hat
on with some difficulty, essayed to sing a verse of Lovely Peg, broke down
at the first word, and retired into the shop, whence he presently came back
express, with a face all flushed and besmeared, and the starch completely
taken out of his shirt-collar, to say these words:
'Wal'r, my lad, here is a little bit of property as I should wish to
make over, jintly!'
The Captain hastily produced the big watch, the teaspoons, the
sugar-tongs, and the canister, and laying them on the table, swept them with
his great hand into Walter's hat; but in handing that singular strong box to
Walter, he was so overcome again, that he was fain to make another retreat
into the shop, and absent himself for a longer space of time than on his
first retirement.
But Walter sought him out, and brought him back; and then the Captain's
great apprehension was, that Florence would suffer from this new shock. He
felt it so earnestly, that he turned quite rational, and positively
interdicted any further allusion to Walter's adventures for some days to
come. Captain Cuttle then became sufficiently composed to relieve himself of
the toast in his hat, and to take his place at the tea-board; but finding
Walter's grasp upon his shoulder, on one side, and Florence whispering her
tearful congratulations on the other, the Captain suddenly bolted again, and
was missing for a good ten minutes.
But never in all his life had the Captain's face so shone and
glistened, as when, at last, he sat stationary at the tea-board, looking
from Florence to Walter, and from Walter to Florence. Nor was this effect
produced or at all heightened by the immense quantity of polishing he had
administered to his face with his coat-sleeve during the last half-hour. It
was solely the effect of his internal emotions. There was a glory and
delight within the Captain that spread itself over his whole visage, and
made a perfect illumination there.
The pride with which the Captain looked upon the bronzed cheek and the
courageous eyes of his recovered boy; with which he saw the generous fervour
of his youth, and all its frank and hopeful qualities, shining once more, in
the fresh, wholesome manner, and the ardent face, would have kindled
something of this light in his countenance. The admiration and sympathy with
which he turned his eyes on Florence, whose beauty, grace, and innocence
could have won no truer or more zealous champion than himself, would have
had an equal influence upon him. But the fulness of the glow he shed around
him could only have been engendered in his contemplation of the two
together, and in all the fancies springing out of that association, that
came sparkling and beaming into his head, and danced about it.
How they talked of poor old Uncle Sol, and dwelt on every little
circumstance relating to his disappearance; how their joy was moderated by
the old man's absence and by the misfortunes of Florence; how they released
Diogenes, whom the Captain had decoyed upstairs some time before, lest he
should bark again; the Captain, though he was in one continual flutter, and
made many more short plunges into the shop, fully comprehended. But he no
more dreamed that Walter looked on Florence, as it were, from a new and
far-off place; that while his eyes often sought the lovely face, they seldom
met its open glance of sisterly affection, but withdrew themselves when hers
were raised towards him; than he believed that it was Walter's ghost who sat
beside him. He saw them together in their youth and beauty, and he knew the
story of their younger days, and he had no inch of room beneath his great
blue waistcoat for anything save admiration of such a pair, and gratitude
for their being reunited.
They sat thus, until it grew late. The Captain would have been content
to sit so for a week. But Walter rose, to take leave for the night.
'Going, Walter!' said Florence. 'Where?'
'He slings his hammock for the present, lady lass,' said Captain
Cuttle, 'round at Brogley's. Within hail, Heart's Delight.'
'I am the cause of your going away, Walter,' said Florence. 'There is a
houseless sister in your place.'
'Dear Miss Dombey,' replied Walter, hesitating - 'if it is not too bold
to call you so!
Walter!' she exclaimed, surprised.
'If anything could make me happier in being allowed to see and speak to
you, would it not be the discovery that I had any means on earth of doing
you a moment's service! Where would I not go, what would I not do, for your
sake?'
She smiled, and called him brother.
'You are so changed,' said Walter -
'I changed!' she interrupted.
'To me,' said Walter, softly, as if he were thinking aloud, 'changed to
me. I left you such a child, and find you - oh! something so different - '
'But your sister, Walter. You have not forgotten what we promised to
each other, when we parted?'
'Forgotten!' But he said no more.
'And if you had - if suffering and danger had driven it from your
thoughts - which it has not - you would remember it now, Walter, when you
find me poor and abandoned, with no home but this, and no friends but the
two who hear me speak!'
'I would! Heaven knows I would!' said Walter.
'Oh, Walter,' exclaimed Florence, through her sobs and tears. 'Dear
brother! Show me some way through the world - some humble path that I may
take alone, and labour in, and sometimes think of you as one who will
protect and care for me as for a sister! Oh, help me, Walter, for I need
help so much!'
'Miss Dombey! Florence! I would die to help you. But your friends are
proud and rich. Your father - '
'No, no! Walter!' She shrieked, and put her hands up to her head, in an
attitude of terror that transfixed him where he stood. 'Don't say that
word!'
He never, from that hour, forgot the voice and look with which she
stopped him at the name. He felt that if he were to live a hundred years, he
never could forget it.
Somewhere - anywhere - but never home! All past, all gone, all lost,
and broken up! The whole history of her untold slight and suffering was in
the cry and look; and he felt he never could forget it, and he never did.
She laid her gentle face upon the Captain's shoulder, and related how
and why she had fled. If every sorrowing tear she shed in doing so, had been
a curse upon the head of him she never named or blamed, it would have been
better for him, Walter thought, with awe, than to be renounced out of such a
strength and might of love.
'There, precious!' said the Captain, when she ceased; and deep
attention the Captain had paid to her while she spoke; listening, with his
glazed hat all awry and his mouth wide open. 'Awast, awast, my eyes! Wal'r,
dear lad, sheer off for to-night, and leave the pretty one to me!'
Walter took her hand in both of his, and put it to his lips, and kissed
it. He knew now that she was, indeed, a homeless wandering fugitive; but,
richer to him so, than in all the wealth and pride of her right station, she
seemed farther off than even on the height that had made him giddy in his
boyish dreams.
Captain Cuttle, perplexed by no such meditations, guarded Florence to
her room, and watched at intervals upon the charmed ground outside her door
- for such it truly was to him - until he felt sufficiently easy in his mind
about her, to turn in under the counter. On abandoning his watch for that
purpose, he could not help calling once, rapturously, through the keyhole,
'Drownded. Ain't he, pretty?' - or, when he got downstairs, making another
trial at that verse of Lovely Peg. But it stuck in his throat somehow, and
he could make nothing of it; so he went to bed, and dreamed that old Sol
Gills was married to Mrs MacStinger, and kept prisoner by that lady in a
secret chamber on a short allowance of victuals.
Mr Toots's Complaint
There was an empty room above-stairs at the wooden Midshipman's, which,
in days of yore, had been Walter's bedroom. Walter, rousing up the Captain
betimes in the morning, proposed that they should carry thither such
furniture out of the little parlour as would grace it best, so that Florence
might take possession of it when she rose. As nothing could be more
agreeable to Captain Cuttle than making himself very red and short of breath
in such a cause, he turned to (as he himself said) with a will; and, in a
couple of hours, this garret was transformed into a species of land-cabin,
adorned with all the choicest moveables out of the parlour, inclusive even
of the Tartar frigate, which the Captain hung up over the chimney-piece with
such extreme delight, that he could do nothing for half-an-hour afterwards
but walk backward from it, lost in admiration.
The Captain could be indueed by no persuasion of Walter's to wind up
the big watch, or to take back the canister, or to touch the sugar-tongs and
teaspoons. 'No, no, my lad;' was the Captain's invariable reply to any
solicitation of the kind, 'I've made that there little property over,
jintly.' These words he repeated with great unction and gravity, evidently
believing that they had the virtue of an Act of Parliament, and that unless
he committed himself by some new admission of ownership, no flaw could be
found in such a form of conveyance.
It was an advantage of the new arrangement, that besides the greater
seclusion it afforded Florence, it admitted of the Midshipman being restored
to his usual post of observation, and also of the shop shutters being taken
down. The latter ceremony, however little importance the unconscious Captain
attached to it, was not wholly superfluous; for, on the previous day, so
much excitement had been occasioned in the neighbourhood, by the shutters
remaining unopened, that the Instrument-maker's house had been honoured with
an unusual share of public observation, and had been intently stared at from
the opposite side of the way, by groups of hungry gazers, at any time
between sunrise and sunset. The idlers and vagabonds had been particularly
interested in the Captain's fate; constantly grovelling in the mud to apply
their eyes to the cellar-grating, under the shop-window, and delighting
their imaginations with the fancy that they could see a piece of his coat as
he hung in a corner; though this settlement of him was stoutly disputed by
an opposite faction, who were of opinion that he lay murdered with a hammer,
on the stairs. It was not without exciting some discontent, therefore, that
the subject of these rumours was seen early in the morning standing at his
shop-door as hale and hearty as if nothing had happened; and the beadle of
that quarter, a man of an ambitious character, who had expected to have the
distinction of being present at the breaking open of the door, and of giving
evidence in full uniform before the coroner, went so far as to say to an
opposite neighbour, that the chap in the glazed hat had better not try it on
there - without more particularly mentioning what - and further, that he,
the beadle, would keep his eye upon him.
'Captain Cuttle,' said Walter, musing, when they stood resting from
their labours at the shop-door, looking down the old familiar street; it
being still early in the morning; 'nothing at all of Uncle Sol, in all that
time!'
'Nothing at all, my lad,' replied the Captain, shaking his head.
'Gone in search of me, dear, kind old man,' said Walter: 'yet never
write to you! But why not? He says, in effect, in this packet that you gave
me,' taking the paper from his pocket, which had been opened in the presence
of the enlightened Bunsby, 'that if you never hear from him before opening
it, you may believe him dead. Heaven forbid! But you would have heard of
him, even if he were dead! Someone would have written, surely, by his
desire, if he could not; and have said, "on such a day, there died in my
house," or "under my care," or so forth, "Mr Solomon Gills of London, who
left this last remembrance and this last request to you".'
The Captain, who had never climbed to such a clear height of
probability before, was greatly impressed by the wide prospect it opened,
and answered, with a thoughtful shake of his head, 'Well said, my lad; wery
well said.'
'I have been thinking of this, or, at least,' said Walter, colouring,
'I have been thinking of one thing and another, all through a sleepless
night, and I cannot believe, Captain Cuttle, but that my Uncle Sol (Lord
bless him!) is alive, and will return. I don't so much wonder at his going
away, because, leaving out of consideration that spice of the marvellous
which was always in his character, and his great affection for me, before
which every other consideration of his life became nothing, as no one ought
to know so well as I who had the best of fathers in him,' - Walter's voice
was indistinct and husky here, and he looked away, along the street, -
'leaving that out of consideration, I say, I have often read and heard of
people who, having some near and dear relative, who was supposed to be
shipwrecked at sea, have gone down to live on that part of the sea-shore
where any tidings of the missing ship might be expected to arrive, though
only an hour or two sooner than elsewhere, or have even gone upon her track
to the place whither she was bound, as if their going would create
intelligence. I think I should do such a thing myself, as soon as another,
or sooner than many, perhaps. But why my Uncle shouldn't write to you, when
he so clearly intended to do so, or how he should die abroad, and you not
know it through some other hand, I cannot make out.'
Captain Cuttle observed, with a shake of his head, that Jack Bunsby
himself hadn't made it out, and that he was a man as could give a pretty
taut opinion too.
'If my Uncle had been a heedless young man, likely to be entrapped by
jovial company to some drinking-place, where he was to be got rid of for the
sake of what money he might have about him,' said Walter; 'or if he had been
a reckless sailor, going ashore with two or three months' pay in his pocket,
I could understand his disappearing, and leaving no trace behind. But, being
what he was - and is, I hope - I can't believe it.'
'Wal'r, my lad,' inquired the Captain, wistfully eyeing him as he
pondered and pondered, 'what do you make of it, then?'
'Captain Cuttle,' returned Walter, 'I don't know what to make of it. I
suppose he never has written! There is no doubt about that?'
'If so be as Sol Gills wrote, my lad,' replied the Captain,
argumentatively, 'where's his dispatch?'
'Say that he entrusted it to some private hand,' suggested Walter, 'and
that it has been forgotten, or carelessly thrown aside, or lost. Even that
is more probable to me, than the other event. In short, I not only cannot
bear to contemplate that other event, Captain Cuttle, but I can't, and
won't.'
'Hope, you see, Wal'r,' said the Captain, sagely, 'Hope. It's that as
animates you. Hope is a buoy, for which you overhaul your Little Warbler,
sentimental diwision, but Lord, my lad, like any other buoy, it only floats;
it can't be steered nowhere. Along with the figure-head of Hope,' said the
Captain, 'there's a anchor; but what's the good of my having a anchor, if I
can't find no bottom to let it go in?'
Captain Cuttle said this rather in his character of a sagacious citizen
and householder, bound to impart a morsel from his stores of wisdom to an
inexperienced youth, than in his own proper person. Indeed, his face was
quite luminous as he spoke, with new hope, caught from Walter; and he
appropriately concluded by slapping him on the back; and saying, with
enthusiasm, 'Hooroar, my lad! Indiwidually, I'm o' your opinion.' Walter,
with his cheerful laugh, returned the salutation, and said:
'Only one word more about my Uncle at present' Captain Cuttle. I
suppose it is impossible that he can have written in the ordinary course -
by mail packet, or ship letter, you understand - '
'Ay, ay, my lad,' said the Captain approvingly.
And that you have missed the letter, anyhow?'
'Why, Wal'r,' said the Captain, turning his eyes upon him with a faint
approach to a severe expression, 'ain't I been on the look-out for any
tidings of that man o' science, old Sol Gills, your Uncle, day and night,
ever since I lost him? Ain't my heart been heavy and watchful always, along
of him and you? Sleeping and waking, ain't I been upon my post, and wouldn't
I scorn to quit it while this here Midshipman held together!'
'Yes, Captain Cuttle,' replied Walter, grasping his hand, 'I know you
would, and I know how faithful and earnest all you say and feel is. I am
sure of it. You don't doubt that I am as sure of it as I am that my foot is
again upon this door-step, or that I again have hold of this true hand. Do
you?'
'No, no, Wal'r,' returned the Captain, with his beaming
'I'll hazard no more conjectures,' said Walter, fervently shaking the
hard hand of the Captain, who shook his with no less goodwill. 'All I will
add is, Heaven forbid that I should touch my Uncle's possessions, Captain
Cuttle! Everything that he left here, shall remain in the care of the truest
of stewards and kindest of men - and if his name is not Cuttle, he has no
name! Now, best of friends, about - Miss Dombey.'
There was a change in Walter's manner, as he came to these two words;
and when he uttered them, all his confidence and cheerfulness appeared to
have deserted him.
'I thought, before Miss Dombey stopped me when I spoke of her father
last night,' said Walter, ' - you remember how?'
The Captain well remembered, and shook his head.
'I thought,' said Walter, 'before that, that we had but one hard duty
to perform, and that it was, to prevail upon her to communicate with her
friends, and to return home.'
The Captain muttered a feeble 'Awast!' or a 'Stand by!' or something or
other, equally pertinent to the occasion; but it was rendered so extremely
feeble by the total discomfiture with which he received this announcement,
that what it was, is mere matter of conjecture.
'But,' said Walter, 'that is over. I think so, no longer. I would
sooner be put back again upon that piece of wreck, on which I have so often
floated, since my preservation, in my dreams, and there left to drift, and
drive, and die!'
'Hooroar, my lad!' exclaimed the Captain, in a burst of uncontrollable
satisfaction. 'Hooroar! hooroar! hooroar!'
'To think that she, so young, so good, and beautiful,' said Walter, 'so
delicately brought up, and born to such a different fortune, should strive
with the rough world! But we have seen the gulf that cuts off all behind
her, though no one but herself can know how deep it is; and there is no
return.
Captain Cuttle, without quite understanding this, greatly approved of
it, and observed in a tone of strong corroboration, that the wind was quite
abaft.
'She ought not to be alone here; ought she, Captain Cuttle?' said
Walter, anxiously.
'Well, my lad,' replied the Captain, after a little sagacious
consideration. 'I don't know. You being here to keep her company, you see,
and you two being jintly - '
'Dear Captain Cuttle!' remonstrated Walter. 'I being here! Miss Dombey,
in her guileless innocent heart, regards me as her adopted brother; but what
would the guile and guilt of my heart be, if I pretended to believe that I
had any right to approach her, familiarly, in that character - if I
pretended to forget that I am bound, in honour, not to do it?'
'Wal'r, my lad,' hinted the Captain, with some revival of his
discomfiture, 'ain't there no other character as - '
'Oh!' returned Walter, 'would you have me die in her esteem - in such
esteem as hers - and put a veil between myself and her angel's face for
ever, by taking advantage of her being here for refuge, so trusting and so
unprotected, to endeavour to exalt myself into her lover? What do I say?
There is no one in the world who would be more opposed to me if I could do
so, than you.'
'Wal'r, my lad,' said the Captain, drooping more and more, 'prowiding
as there is any just cause or impediment why two persons should not be jined
together in the house of bondage, for which you'll overhaul the place and
make a note, I hope I should declare it as promised and wowed in the banns.
So there ain't no other character; ain't there, my lad?'
Walter briskly waved his hand in the negative.
'Well, my lad,' growled the Captain slowly, 'I won't deny but what I
find myself wery much down by the head, along o' this here, or but what I've
gone clean about. But as to Lady lass, Wal'r, mind you, wot's respect and
duty to her, is respect and duty in my articles, howsumever disapinting; and
therefore I follows in your wake, my lad, and feel as you are, no doubt,
acting up to yourself. And there ain't no other character, ain't there?'
said the Captain, musing over the ruins of his fallen castle, with a very
despondent face.
'Now, Captain Cuttle,' said Walter, starting a fresh point with a gayer
air, to cheer the Captain up - but nothing could do that; he was too much
concerned - 'I think we should exert ourselves to find someone who would be
a proper attendant for Miss Dombey while she remains here, and who may be
trusted. None of her relations may. It's clear Miss Dombey feels that they
are all subservient to her father. What has become of Susan?'
'The young woman?' returned the Captain. 'It's my belief as she was
sent away again the will of Heart's Delight. I made a signal for her when
Lady lass first come, and she rated of her wery high, and said she had been
gone a long time.'
'Then,' said Walter, 'do you ask Miss Dombey where she's gone, and
we'll try to find her. The morning's getting on, and Miss Dombey will soon
be rising. You are her best friend. Wait for her upstairs, and leave me to
take care of all down here.'
The Captain, very crest-fallen indeed, echoed the sigh with which
Walter said this, and complied. Florence was delighted with her new room,
anxious to see Walter, and overjoyed at the prospect of greeting her old
friend Susan. But Florence could not say where Susan was gone, except that
it was in Essex, and no one could say, she remembered, unless it were Mr
Toots.
With this information the melancholy Captain returned to Walter, and
gave him to understand that Mr Toots was the young gentleman whom he had
encountered on the door-step, and that he was a friend of his, and that he
was a young gentleman of property, and that he hopelessly adored Miss
Dombey. The Captain also related how the intelligence of Walter's supposed
fate had first made him acquainted with Mr Toots, and how there was solemn
treaty and compact between them, that Mr Toots should be mute upon the
subject of his love.
The question then was, whether Florence could trust Mr Toots; and
Florence saying, with a smile, 'Oh, yes, with her whole heart!' it became
important to find out where Mr Toots lived. This, Florence didn't know, and
the Captain had forgotten; and the Captain was telling Walter, in the little
parlour, that Mr Toots was sure to be there soon, when in came Mr Toots
himself.
'Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, rushing into the parlour without any
ceremony, 'I'm in a state of mind bordering on distraction!'
Mr Toots had discharged those words, as from a mortar, before he
observed Walter, whom he recognised with what may be described as a chuckle
of misery.
'You'll excuse me, Sir,' said Mr Toots, holding his forehead, 'but I'm
at present in that state that my brain is going, if not gone, and anything
approaching to politeness in an individual so situated would be a hollow
mockery. Captain Gills, I beg to request the favour of a private interview.'
'Why, Brother,' returned the Captain, taking him by the hand, 'you are
the man as we was on the look-out for.'
'Oh, Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'what a look-out that must be, of
which I am the object! I haven't dared to shave, I'm in that rash state. I
haven't had my clothes brushed. My hair is matted together. I told the
Chicken that if he offered to clean my boots, I'd stretch him a Corpse
before me!'
All these indications of a disordered mind were verified in Mr Toots's
appearance, which was wild and savage.
'See here, Brother,' said the Captain. 'This here's old Sol Gills's
nevy Wal'r. Him as was supposed to have perished at sea'
Mr Toots took his hand from his forehead, and stared at Walter.
'Good gracious me!' stammered Mr Toots. 'What a complication of misery!
How-de-do? I - I - I'm afraid you must have got very wet. Captain Gills,
will you allow me a word in the shop?'
He took the Captain by the coat, and going out with him whispered:
'That then, Captain Gills, is the party you spoke of, when you said
that he and Miss Dombey were made for one another?'
'Why, ay, my lad,' replied the disconsolate Captain; 'I was of that
mind once.'
'And at this time!' exclaimed Mr Toots, with his hand to his forehead
again. 'Of all others! - a hated rival! At least, he ain't a hated rival,'
said Mr Toots, stopping short, on second thoughts, and taking away his hand;
'what should I hate him for? No. If my affection has been truly
disinterested, Captain Gills, let me prove it now!'
Mr Toots shot back abruptly into the parlour, and said, wringing Walter
by the hand:
'How-de-do? I hope you didn't take any cold. I - I shall be very glad
if you'll give me the pleasure of your acquaintance. I wish you many happy
returns of the day. Upon my word and honour,' said Mr Toots, warming as he
became better acquainted with Walter's face and figure, 'I'm very glad to
see you!'
'Thank you, heartily,' said Walter. 'I couldn't desire a more genuine
and genial welcome.'
'Couldn't you, though?' said Mr Toots, still shaking his hand. 'It's
very kind of you. I'm much obliged to you. How-de-do? I hope you left
everybody quite well over the - that is, upon the - I mean wherever you came
from last, you know.'
All these good wishes, and better intentions, Walter responded to
manfully.
'Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'I should wish to be strictly
honourable; but I trust I may be allowed now, to allude to a certain subject
that - '
'Ay, ay, my lad,' returned the Captain. 'Freely, freely.'
'Then, Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'and Lieutenant Walters - are you
aware that the most dreadful circumstances have been happening at Mr
Dombey's house, and that Miss Dombey herself has left her father, who, in my
opinion,' said Mr Toots, with great excitement, 'is a Brute, that it would
be a flattery to call a - a marble monument, or a bird of prey, - and that
she is not to be found, and has gone no one knows where?'
'May I ask how you heard this?' inquired Walter.
'Lieutenant Walters,' said Mr Toots, who had arrived at that
appellation by a process peculiar to himself; probably by jumbling up his
Christian name with the seafaring profession, and supposing some
relationship between him and the Captain, which would extend, as a matter of
course, to their titles; 'Lieutenant Walters, I can have no objection to
make a straightforward reply. The fact is, that feeling extremely interested
in everything that relates to Miss Dombey - not for any selfish reason,
Lieutenant Walters, for I am well aware that the most able thing I could do
for all parties would be to put an end to my existence, which can only be
regarded as an inconvenience - I have been in the habit of bestowing a
trifle now and then upon a footman; a most respectable young man, of the
name of Towlinson, who has lived in the family some time; and Towlinson
informed me, yesterday evening, that this was the state of things. Since
which, Captain Gills - and Lieutenant Walters - I have been perfectly
frantic, and have been lying down on the sofa all night, the Ruin you
behold.'
'Mr Toots,' said Walter, 'I am happy to be able to relieve your mind.
Pray calm yourself. Miss Dombey is safe and well.'
'Sir!' cried Mr Toots, starting from his chair and shaking hands with
him anew, 'the relief is so excessive, and unspeakable, that if you were to
tell me now that Miss Dombey was married even, I could smile. Yes, Captain
Gills,' said Mr Toots, appealing to him, 'upon my soul and body, I really
think, whatever I might do to myself immediately afterwards, that I could
smile, I am so relieved.'
'It will be a greater relief and delight still, to such a generous mind
as yours,' said Walter, not at all slow in returning his greeting, 'to find
that you can render service to Miss Dombey. Captain Cuttle, will you have
the kindness to take Mr Toots upstairs?'
The Captain beckoned to Mr Toots, who followed him with a bewildered
countenance, and, ascending to the top of the house, was introduced, without
a word of preparation from his conductor, into Florence's new retreat.
Poor Mr Toots's amazement and pleasure at sight of her were such, that
they could find a vent in nothing but extravagance. He ran up to her, seized
her hand, kissed it, dropped it, seized it again, fell upon one knee, shed
tears, chuckled, and was quite regardless of his danger of being pinned by
Diogenes, who, inspired by the belief that there was something hostile to
his mistress in these demonstrations, worked round and round him, as if only
undecided at what particular point to go in for the assault, but quite
resolved to do him a fearful mischief.
'Oh Di, you bad, forgetful dog! Dear Mr Toots, I am so rejoiced to see
you!'
'Thankee,' said Mr Toots, 'I am pretty well, I'm much obliged to you,
Miss Dombey. I hope all the family are the same.'
Mr Toots said this without the least notion of what he was talking
about, and sat down on a chair, staring at Florence with the liveliest
contention of delight and despair going on in his face that any face could
exhibit.
'Captain Gills and Lieutenant Walters have mentioned, Miss Dombey,'
gasped Mr Toots, 'that I can do you some service. If I could by any means
wash out the remembrance of that day at Brighton, when I conducted myself -
much more like a Parricide than a person of independent property,' said Mr
Toots, with severe self-accusation, 'I should sink into the silent tomb with
a gleam of joy.'
'Pray, Mr Toots,' said Florence, 'do not wish me to forget anything in
our acquaintance. I never can, believe me. You have been far too kind and
good to me always.'
'Miss Dombey,' returned Mr Toots, 'your consideration for my feelings
is a part of your angelic character. Thank you a thousand times. It's of no
consequence at all.'
'What we thought of asking you,' said Florence, 'is, whether you
remember where Susan, whom you were so kind as to accompany to the
coach-office when she left me, is to be found.'
'Why I do not certainly, Miss Dombey,' said Mr Toots, after a little
consideration, 'remember the exact name of the place that was on the coach;
and I do recollect that she said she was not going to stop there, but was
going farther on. But, Miss Dombey, if your object is to find her, and to
have her here, myself and the Chicken will produce her with every dispatch
that devotion on my part, and great intelligence on the Chicken's, can
ensure.
Mr Toots was so manifestly delighted and revived by the prospect of
being useful, and the disinterested sincerity of his devotion was so
unquestionable, that it would have been cruel to refuse him. Florence, with
an instinctive delicacy, forbore to urge the least obstacle, though she did
not forbear to overpower him with thanks; and Mr Toots proudly took the
commission upon himself for immediate execution.
'Miss Dombey,' said Mr Toots, touching her proffered hand, with a pang
of hopeless love visibly shooting through him, and flashing out in his face,
'Good-bye! Allow me to take the liberty of saying, that your misfortunes
make me perfectly wretched, and that you may trust me, next to Captain Gills
himself. I am quite aware, Miss Dombey, of my own deficiencies - they're not
of the least consequence, thank you - but I am entirely to be relied upon, I
do assure you, Miss Dombey.'
With that Mr Toots came out of the room, again accompanied by the
Captain, who, standing at a little distance, holding his hat under his arm
and arranging his scattered locks with his hook, had been a not uninterested
witness of what passed. And when the door closed behind them, the light of
Mr Toots's life was darkly clouded again.
'Captain Gills,' said that gentleman, stopping near the bottom of the
stairs, and turning round, 'to tell you the truth, I am not in a frame of
mind at the present moment, in which I could see Lieutenant Walters with
that entirely friendly feeling towards him that I should wish to harbour in
my breast. We cannot always command our feelings, Captain Gills, and I
should take it as a particular favour if you'd let me out at the private
door.'
'Brother,' returned the Captain, 'you shall shape your own course.
Wotever course you take, is plain and seamanlike, I'm wery sure.
'Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'you're extremely kind. Your good
opinion is a consolation to me. There is one thing,' said Mr Toots, standing
in the passage, behind the half-opened door, 'that I hope you'll bear in
mind, Captain Gills, and that I should wish Lieutenant Walters to be made
acquainted with. I have quite come into my property now, you know, and - and
I don't know what to do with it. If I could be at all useful in a pecuniary
point of view, I should glide into the silent tomb with ease and
smoothness.'
Mr Toots said no more, but slipped out quietly and shut the door upon
himself, to cut the Captain off from any reply.
Florence thought of this good creature, long after he had left her,
with mingled emotions of pain and pleasure. He was so honest and
warm-hearted, that to see him again and be assured of his truth to her in
her distress, was a joy and comfort beyond all price; but for that very
reason, it was so affecting to think that she caused him a moment's
unhappiness, or ruffled, by a breath, the harmless current of his life, that
her eyes filled with tears, and her bosom overflowed with pity. Captain
Cuttle, in his different way, thought much of Mr Toots too; and so did
Walter; and when the evening came, and they were all sitting together in
Florence's new room, Walter praised him in a most impassioned manner, and
told Florence what he had said on leaving the house, with every graceful
setting-off in the way of comment and appreciation that his own honesty and
sympathy could surround it with.
Mr Toots did not return upon the next day, or the next, or for several
days; and in the meanwhile Florence, without any new alarm, lived like a
quiet bird in a cage, at the top of the old Instrument-maker's house. But
Florence drooped and hung her head more and more plainly, as the days went
on; and the expression that had been seen in the face of the dead child, was
often turned to the sky from her high window, as if it sought his angel out,
on the bright shore of which he had spoken: lying on his little bed.
Florence had been weak and delicate of late, and the agitation she had
undergone was not without its influences on her health. But it was no bodily
illness that affected her now. She was distressed in mind; and the cause of
her distress was Walter.
Interested in her, anxious for her, proud and glad to serve her, and
showing all this with the enthusiasm and ardour of his character, Florence
saw that he avoided her. All the long day through, he seldom approached her
room. If she asked for him, he came, again for the moment as earnest and as
bright as she remembered him when she was a lost child in the staring
streets; but he soon became constrained - her quick affection was too
watchful not to know it - and uneasy, and soon left her. Unsought, he never
came, all day, between the morning and the night. When the evening closed
in, he was always there, and that was her happiest time, for then she half
believed that the old Walter of her childhood was not changed. But, even
then, some trivial word, look, or circumstance would show her that there was
an indefinable division between them which could not be passed.
And she could not but see that these revealings of a great alteration
in Walter manifested themselves in despite of his utmost efforts to hide
them. In his consideration for her, she thought, and in the earnestness of
his desire to spare her any wound from his kind hand, he resorted to
innumerable little artifices and disguises. So much the more did Florence
feel the greatness of the alteration in him; so much the oftener did she
weep at this estrangement of her brother.
The good Captain - her untiring, tender, ever zealous friend - saw it,
too, Florence thought, and it pained him. He was less cheerful and hopeful
than he had been at first, and would steal looks at her and Walter, by
turns, when they were all three together of an evening, with quite a sad
face.
Florence resolved, at last, to speak to Walter. She believed she knew
now what the cause of his estrangement was, and she thought it would be a
relief to her full heart, and would set him more at ease, if she told him
she had found it out, and quite submitted to it, and did not reproach him.
It was on a certain Sunday afternoon, that Florence took this
resolution. The faithful Captain, in an amazing shirt-collar, was sitting by
her, reading with his spectacles on, and she asked him where Walter was.
'I think he's down below, my lady lass,' returned the Captain.
'I should like to speak to him,' said Florence, rising hurriedly as if
to go downstairs.
'I'll rouse him up here, Beauty,' said the Captain, 'in a trice.'
Thereupon the Captain, with much alacrity, shouldered his book - for he
made it a point of duty to read none but very large books on a Sunday, as
having a more staid appearance: and had bargained, years ago, for a
prodigious volume at a book-stall, five lines of which utterly confounded
him at any time, insomuch that he had not yet ascertained of what subject it
treated - and withdrew. Walter soon appeared.
'Captain Cuttle tells me, Miss Dombey,' he eagerly began on coming in -
but stopped when he saw her face.
'You are not so well to-day. You look distressed. You have been
weeping.'
He spoke so kindly, and with such a fervent tremor in his voice, that
the tears gushed into her eyes at the sound of his words.
'Walter,' said Florence, gently, 'I am not quite well, and I have been
weeping. I want to speak to you.'
He sat down opposite to her, looking at her beautiful and innocent
face; and his own turned pale, and his lips trembled.
'You said, upon the night when I knew that you were saved - and oh!
dear Walter, what I felt that night, and what I hoped!' - '
He put his trembling hand upon the table between them, and sat looking
at her.
- 'that I was changed. I was surprised to hear you say so, but I
understand, now, that I am. Don't be angry with me, Walter. I was too much
overjoyed to think of it, then.'
She seemed a child to him again. It was the ingenuous, confiding,
loving child he saw and heard. Not the dear woman, at whose feet he would
have laid the riches of the earth.
'You remember the last time I saw you, Walter, before you went away?'
He put his hand into his breast, and took out a little purse.
'I have always worn it round my neck! If I had gone down in the deep,
it would have been with me at the bottom of the sea.'
'And you will wear it still, Walter, for my old sake?'
'Until I die!'
She laid her hand on his, as fearlessly and simply, as if not a day had
intervened since she gave him the little token of remembrance.
'I am glad of that. I shall be always glad to think so, Walter. Do you
recollect that a thought of this change seemed to come into our minds at the
same time that evening, when we were talking together?'
'No!' he answered, in a wondering tone.
'Yes, Walter. I had been the means of injuring your hopes and prospects
even then. I feared to think so, then, but I know it now. If you were able,
the graves of them as manned that ship.'
'They were not all lost!' cried Florence. 'Some were saved! - Was one?'
'Aboard o' that there unfort'nate wessel,' said the Captain, rising
from his chair, and clenching his hand with prodigious energy and
exultation, 'was a lad, a gallant lad - as I've heerd tell - that had loved,
when he was a boy, to read and talk about brave actions in shipwrecks - I've
heerd him! I've heerd him! - and he remembered of 'em in his hour of need;
for when the stoutest and oldest hands was hove down, he was firm and
cheery. It warn't the want of objects to like and love ashore that gave him
courage, it was his nat'ral mind. I've seen it in his face, when he was no
more than a child - ay, many a time! - and when I thought it nothing but his
good looks, bless him!'
'And was he saved!' cried Florence. 'Was he saved!'
'That brave lad,' said the Captain, - 'look at me, pretty! Don't look
round - '
Florence had hardly power to repeat, 'Why not?'
'Because there's nothing there, my deary,' said the Captain. 'Don't be
took aback, pretty creetur! Don't, for the sake of Wal'r, as was dear to all
on us! That there lad,' said the Captain, 'arter working with the best, and
standing by the faint-hearted, and never making no complaint nor sign of
fear, and keeping up a spirit in all hands that made 'em honour him as if
he'd been a admiral - that lad, along with the second-mate and one seaman,
was left, of all the beatin' hearts that went aboard that ship, the only
living creeturs - lashed to a fragment of the wreck, and driftin' on the
stormy sea.
Were they saved?' cried Florence.
'Days and nights they drifted on them endless waters,' said the
Captain, 'until at last - No! Don't look that way, pretty! - a sail bore
down upon 'em, and they was, by the Lord's mercy, took aboard: two living
and one dead.'
'Which of them was dead?' cried Florence.
'Not the lad I speak on,' said the Captain.
'Thank God! oh thank God!'
'Amen!' returned the Captain hurriedly. 'Don't be took aback! A minute
more, my lady lass! with a good heart! - aboard that ship, they went a long
voyage, right away across the chart (for there warn't no touching nowhere),
and on that voyage the seaman as was picked up with him died. But he was
spared, and - '
The Captain, without knowing what he did, had cut a slice of bread from
the loaf, and put it on his hook (which was his usual toasting-fork), on
which he now held it to the fire; looking behind Florence with great emotion
in his face, and suffering the bread to blaze and burn like fuel.
'Was spared,' repeated Florence, 'and-?'
'And come home in that ship,' said the Captain, still looking in the
same direction, 'and - don't be frightened, pretty - and landed; and one
morning come cautiously to his own door to take a obserwation, knowing that
his friends would think him drownded, when he sheered off at the unexpected
- '
'At the unexpected barking of a dog?' cried Florence, quickly.
'Yes,' roared the Captain. 'Steady, darling! courage! Don't look round
yet. See there! upon the wall!'
There was the shadow of a man upon the wall close to her. She started
up, looked round, and with a piercing cry, saw Walter Gay behind her!
She had no thought of him but as a brother, a brother rescued from the
grave; a shipwrecked brother saved and at her side; and rushed into his
arms. In all the world, he seemed to be her hope, her comfort, refuge,
natural protector. 'Take care of Walter, I was fond of Walter!' The dear
remembrance of the plaintive voice that said so, rushed upon her soul, like
music in the night. 'Oh welcome home, dear Walter! Welcome to this stricken
breast!' She felt the words, although she could not utter them, and held him
in her pure embrace.
Captain Cuttle, in a fit of delirium, attempted to wipe his head with
the blackened toast upon his hook: and finding it an uncongenial substance
for the purpose, put it into the crown of his glazed hat, put the glazed hat
on with some difficulty, essayed to sing a verse of Lovely Peg, broke down
at the first word, and retired into the shop, whence he presently came back
express, with a face all flushed and besmeared, and the starch completely
taken out of his shirt-collar, to say these words:
'Wal'r, my lad, here is a little bit of property as I should wish to
make over, jintly!'
The Captain hastily produced the big watch, the teaspoons, the
sugar-tongs, and the canister, and laying them on the table, swept them with
his great hand into Walter's hat; but in handing that singular strong box to
Walter, he was so overcome again, that he was fain to make another retreat
into the shop, and absent himself for a longer space of time than on his
first retirement.
But Walter sought him out, and brought him back; and then the Captain's
great apprehension was, that Florence would suffer from this new shock. He
felt it so earnestly, that he turned quite rational, and positively
interdicted any further allusion to Walter's adventures for some days to
come. Captain Cuttle then became sufficiently composed to relieve himself of
the toast in his hat, and to take his place at the tea-board; but finding
Walter's grasp upon his shoulder, on one side, and Florence whispering her
tearful congratulations on the other, the Captain suddenly bolted again, and
was missing for a good ten minutes.
But never in all his life had the Captain's face so shone and
glistened, as when, at last, he sat stationary at the tea-board, looking
from Florence to Walter, and from Walter to Florence. Nor was this effect
produced or at all heightened by the immense quantity of polishing he had
administered to his face with his coat-sleeve during the last half-hour. It
was solely the effect of his internal emotions. There was a glory and
delight within the Captain that spread itself over his whole visage, and
made a perfect illumination there.
The pride with which the Captain looked upon the bronzed cheek and the
courageous eyes of his recovered boy; with which he saw the generous fervour
of his youth, and all its frank and hopeful qualities, shining once more, in
the fresh, wholesome manner, and the ardent face, would have kindled
something of this light in his countenance. The admiration and sympathy with
which he turned his eyes on Florence, whose beauty, grace, and innocence
could have won no truer or more zealous champion than himself, would have
had an equal influence upon him. But the fulness of the glow he shed around
him could only have been engendered in his contemplation of the two
together, and in all the fancies springing out of that association, that
came sparkling and beaming into his head, and danced about it.
How they talked of poor old Uncle Sol, and dwelt on every little
circumstance relating to his disappearance; how their joy was moderated by
the old man's absence and by the misfortunes of Florence; how they released
Diogenes, whom the Captain had decoyed upstairs some time before, lest he
should bark again; the Captain, though he was in one continual flutter, and
made many more short plunges into the shop, fully comprehended. But he no
more dreamed that Walter looked on Florence, as it were, from a new and
far-off place; that while his eyes often sought the lovely face, they seldom
met its open glance of sisterly affection, but withdrew themselves when hers
were raised towards him; than he believed that it was Walter's ghost who sat
beside him. He saw them together in their youth and beauty, and he knew the
story of their younger days, and he had no inch of room beneath his great
blue waistcoat for anything save admiration of such a pair, and gratitude
for their being reunited.
They sat thus, until it grew late. The Captain would have been content
to sit so for a week. But Walter rose, to take leave for the night.
'Going, Walter!' said Florence. 'Where?'
'He slings his hammock for the present, lady lass,' said Captain
Cuttle, 'round at Brogley's. Within hail, Heart's Delight.'
'I am the cause of your going away, Walter,' said Florence. 'There is a
houseless sister in your place.'
'Dear Miss Dombey,' replied Walter, hesitating - 'if it is not too bold
to call you so!
Walter!' she exclaimed, surprised.
'If anything could make me happier in being allowed to see and speak to
you, would it not be the discovery that I had any means on earth of doing
you a moment's service! Where would I not go, what would I not do, for your
sake?'
She smiled, and called him brother.
'You are so changed,' said Walter -
'I changed!' she interrupted.
'To me,' said Walter, softly, as if he were thinking aloud, 'changed to
me. I left you such a child, and find you - oh! something so different - '
'But your sister, Walter. You have not forgotten what we promised to
each other, when we parted?'
'Forgotten!' But he said no more.
'And if you had - if suffering and danger had driven it from your
thoughts - which it has not - you would remember it now, Walter, when you
find me poor and abandoned, with no home but this, and no friends but the
two who hear me speak!'
'I would! Heaven knows I would!' said Walter.
'Oh, Walter,' exclaimed Florence, through her sobs and tears. 'Dear
brother! Show me some way through the world - some humble path that I may
take alone, and labour in, and sometimes think of you as one who will
protect and care for me as for a sister! Oh, help me, Walter, for I need
help so much!'
'Miss Dombey! Florence! I would die to help you. But your friends are
proud and rich. Your father - '
'No, no! Walter!' She shrieked, and put her hands up to her head, in an
attitude of terror that transfixed him where he stood. 'Don't say that
word!'
He never, from that hour, forgot the voice and look with which she
stopped him at the name. He felt that if he were to live a hundred years, he
never could forget it.
Somewhere - anywhere - but never home! All past, all gone, all lost,
and broken up! The whole history of her untold slight and suffering was in
the cry and look; and he felt he never could forget it, and he never did.
She laid her gentle face upon the Captain's shoulder, and related how
and why she had fled. If every sorrowing tear she shed in doing so, had been
a curse upon the head of him she never named or blamed, it would have been
better for him, Walter thought, with awe, than to be renounced out of such a
strength and might of love.
'There, precious!' said the Captain, when she ceased; and deep
attention the Captain had paid to her while she spoke; listening, with his
glazed hat all awry and his mouth wide open. 'Awast, awast, my eyes! Wal'r,
dear lad, sheer off for to-night, and leave the pretty one to me!'
Walter took her hand in both of his, and put it to his lips, and kissed
it. He knew now that she was, indeed, a homeless wandering fugitive; but,
richer to him so, than in all the wealth and pride of her right station, she
seemed farther off than even on the height that had made him giddy in his
boyish dreams.
Captain Cuttle, perplexed by no such meditations, guarded Florence to
her room, and watched at intervals upon the charmed ground outside her door
- for such it truly was to him - until he felt sufficiently easy in his mind
about her, to turn in under the counter. On abandoning his watch for that
purpose, he could not help calling once, rapturously, through the keyhole,
'Drownded. Ain't he, pretty?' - or, when he got downstairs, making another
trial at that verse of Lovely Peg. But it stuck in his throat somehow, and
he could make nothing of it; so he went to bed, and dreamed that old Sol
Gills was married to Mrs MacStinger, and kept prisoner by that lady in a
secret chamber on a short allowance of victuals.
Mr Toots's Complaint
There was an empty room above-stairs at the wooden Midshipman's, which,
in days of yore, had been Walter's bedroom. Walter, rousing up the Captain
betimes in the morning, proposed that they should carry thither such
furniture out of the little parlour as would grace it best, so that Florence
might take possession of it when she rose. As nothing could be more
agreeable to Captain Cuttle than making himself very red and short of breath
in such a cause, he turned to (as he himself said) with a will; and, in a
couple of hours, this garret was transformed into a species of land-cabin,
adorned with all the choicest moveables out of the parlour, inclusive even
of the Tartar frigate, which the Captain hung up over the chimney-piece with
such extreme delight, that he could do nothing for half-an-hour afterwards
but walk backward from it, lost in admiration.
The Captain could be indueed by no persuasion of Walter's to wind up
the big watch, or to take back the canister, or to touch the sugar-tongs and
teaspoons. 'No, no, my lad;' was the Captain's invariable reply to any
solicitation of the kind, 'I've made that there little property over,
jintly.' These words he repeated with great unction and gravity, evidently
believing that they had the virtue of an Act of Parliament, and that unless
he committed himself by some new admission of ownership, no flaw could be
found in such a form of conveyance.
It was an advantage of the new arrangement, that besides the greater
seclusion it afforded Florence, it admitted of the Midshipman being restored
to his usual post of observation, and also of the shop shutters being taken
down. The latter ceremony, however little importance the unconscious Captain
attached to it, was not wholly superfluous; for, on the previous day, so
much excitement had been occasioned in the neighbourhood, by the shutters
remaining unopened, that the Instrument-maker's house had been honoured with
an unusual share of public observation, and had been intently stared at from
the opposite side of the way, by groups of hungry gazers, at any time
between sunrise and sunset. The idlers and vagabonds had been particularly
interested in the Captain's fate; constantly grovelling in the mud to apply
their eyes to the cellar-grating, under the shop-window, and delighting
their imaginations with the fancy that they could see a piece of his coat as
he hung in a corner; though this settlement of him was stoutly disputed by
an opposite faction, who were of opinion that he lay murdered with a hammer,
on the stairs. It was not without exciting some discontent, therefore, that
the subject of these rumours was seen early in the morning standing at his
shop-door as hale and hearty as if nothing had happened; and the beadle of
that quarter, a man of an ambitious character, who had expected to have the
distinction of being present at the breaking open of the door, and of giving
evidence in full uniform before the coroner, went so far as to say to an
opposite neighbour, that the chap in the glazed hat had better not try it on
there - without more particularly mentioning what - and further, that he,
the beadle, would keep his eye upon him.
'Captain Cuttle,' said Walter, musing, when they stood resting from
their labours at the shop-door, looking down the old familiar street; it
being still early in the morning; 'nothing at all of Uncle Sol, in all that
time!'
'Nothing at all, my lad,' replied the Captain, shaking his head.
'Gone in search of me, dear, kind old man,' said Walter: 'yet never
write to you! But why not? He says, in effect, in this packet that you gave
me,' taking the paper from his pocket, which had been opened in the presence
of the enlightened Bunsby, 'that if you never hear from him before opening
it, you may believe him dead. Heaven forbid! But you would have heard of
him, even if he were dead! Someone would have written, surely, by his
desire, if he could not; and have said, "on such a day, there died in my
house," or "under my care," or so forth, "Mr Solomon Gills of London, who
left this last remembrance and this last request to you".'
The Captain, who had never climbed to such a clear height of
probability before, was greatly impressed by the wide prospect it opened,
and answered, with a thoughtful shake of his head, 'Well said, my lad; wery
well said.'
'I have been thinking of this, or, at least,' said Walter, colouring,
'I have been thinking of one thing and another, all through a sleepless
night, and I cannot believe, Captain Cuttle, but that my Uncle Sol (Lord
bless him!) is alive, and will return. I don't so much wonder at his going
away, because, leaving out of consideration that spice of the marvellous
which was always in his character, and his great affection for me, before
which every other consideration of his life became nothing, as no one ought
to know so well as I who had the best of fathers in him,' - Walter's voice
was indistinct and husky here, and he looked away, along the street, -
'leaving that out of consideration, I say, I have often read and heard of
people who, having some near and dear relative, who was supposed to be
shipwrecked at sea, have gone down to live on that part of the sea-shore
where any tidings of the missing ship might be expected to arrive, though
only an hour or two sooner than elsewhere, or have even gone upon her track
to the place whither she was bound, as if their going would create
intelligence. I think I should do such a thing myself, as soon as another,
or sooner than many, perhaps. But why my Uncle shouldn't write to you, when
he so clearly intended to do so, or how he should die abroad, and you not
know it through some other hand, I cannot make out.'
Captain Cuttle observed, with a shake of his head, that Jack Bunsby
himself hadn't made it out, and that he was a man as could give a pretty
taut opinion too.
'If my Uncle had been a heedless young man, likely to be entrapped by
jovial company to some drinking-place, where he was to be got rid of for the
sake of what money he might have about him,' said Walter; 'or if he had been
a reckless sailor, going ashore with two or three months' pay in his pocket,
I could understand his disappearing, and leaving no trace behind. But, being
what he was - and is, I hope - I can't believe it.'
'Wal'r, my lad,' inquired the Captain, wistfully eyeing him as he
pondered and pondered, 'what do you make of it, then?'
'Captain Cuttle,' returned Walter, 'I don't know what to make of it. I
suppose he never has written! There is no doubt about that?'
'If so be as Sol Gills wrote, my lad,' replied the Captain,
argumentatively, 'where's his dispatch?'
'Say that he entrusted it to some private hand,' suggested Walter, 'and
that it has been forgotten, or carelessly thrown aside, or lost. Even that
is more probable to me, than the other event. In short, I not only cannot
bear to contemplate that other event, Captain Cuttle, but I can't, and
won't.'
'Hope, you see, Wal'r,' said the Captain, sagely, 'Hope. It's that as
animates you. Hope is a buoy, for which you overhaul your Little Warbler,
sentimental diwision, but Lord, my lad, like any other buoy, it only floats;
it can't be steered nowhere. Along with the figure-head of Hope,' said the
Captain, 'there's a anchor; but what's the good of my having a anchor, if I
can't find no bottom to let it go in?'
Captain Cuttle said this rather in his character of a sagacious citizen
and householder, bound to impart a morsel from his stores of wisdom to an
inexperienced youth, than in his own proper person. Indeed, his face was
quite luminous as he spoke, with new hope, caught from Walter; and he
appropriately concluded by slapping him on the back; and saying, with
enthusiasm, 'Hooroar, my lad! Indiwidually, I'm o' your opinion.' Walter,
with his cheerful laugh, returned the salutation, and said:
'Only one word more about my Uncle at present' Captain Cuttle. I
suppose it is impossible that he can have written in the ordinary course -
by mail packet, or ship letter, you understand - '
'Ay, ay, my lad,' said the Captain approvingly.
And that you have missed the letter, anyhow?'
'Why, Wal'r,' said the Captain, turning his eyes upon him with a faint
approach to a severe expression, 'ain't I been on the look-out for any
tidings of that man o' science, old Sol Gills, your Uncle, day and night,
ever since I lost him? Ain't my heart been heavy and watchful always, along
of him and you? Sleeping and waking, ain't I been upon my post, and wouldn't
I scorn to quit it while this here Midshipman held together!'
'Yes, Captain Cuttle,' replied Walter, grasping his hand, 'I know you
would, and I know how faithful and earnest all you say and feel is. I am
sure of it. You don't doubt that I am as sure of it as I am that my foot is
again upon this door-step, or that I again have hold of this true hand. Do
you?'
'No, no, Wal'r,' returned the Captain, with his beaming
'I'll hazard no more conjectures,' said Walter, fervently shaking the
hard hand of the Captain, who shook his with no less goodwill. 'All I will
add is, Heaven forbid that I should touch my Uncle's possessions, Captain
Cuttle! Everything that he left here, shall remain in the care of the truest
of stewards and kindest of men - and if his name is not Cuttle, he has no
name! Now, best of friends, about - Miss Dombey.'
There was a change in Walter's manner, as he came to these two words;
and when he uttered them, all his confidence and cheerfulness appeared to
have deserted him.
'I thought, before Miss Dombey stopped me when I spoke of her father
last night,' said Walter, ' - you remember how?'
The Captain well remembered, and shook his head.
'I thought,' said Walter, 'before that, that we had but one hard duty
to perform, and that it was, to prevail upon her to communicate with her
friends, and to return home.'
The Captain muttered a feeble 'Awast!' or a 'Stand by!' or something or
other, equally pertinent to the occasion; but it was rendered so extremely
feeble by the total discomfiture with which he received this announcement,
that what it was, is mere matter of conjecture.
'But,' said Walter, 'that is over. I think so, no longer. I would
sooner be put back again upon that piece of wreck, on which I have so often
floated, since my preservation, in my dreams, and there left to drift, and
drive, and die!'
'Hooroar, my lad!' exclaimed the Captain, in a burst of uncontrollable
satisfaction. 'Hooroar! hooroar! hooroar!'
'To think that she, so young, so good, and beautiful,' said Walter, 'so
delicately brought up, and born to such a different fortune, should strive
with the rough world! But we have seen the gulf that cuts off all behind
her, though no one but herself can know how deep it is; and there is no
return.
Captain Cuttle, without quite understanding this, greatly approved of
it, and observed in a tone of strong corroboration, that the wind was quite
abaft.
'She ought not to be alone here; ought she, Captain Cuttle?' said
Walter, anxiously.
'Well, my lad,' replied the Captain, after a little sagacious
consideration. 'I don't know. You being here to keep her company, you see,
and you two being jintly - '
'Dear Captain Cuttle!' remonstrated Walter. 'I being here! Miss Dombey,
in her guileless innocent heart, regards me as her adopted brother; but what
would the guile and guilt of my heart be, if I pretended to believe that I
had any right to approach her, familiarly, in that character - if I
pretended to forget that I am bound, in honour, not to do it?'
'Wal'r, my lad,' hinted the Captain, with some revival of his
discomfiture, 'ain't there no other character as - '
'Oh!' returned Walter, 'would you have me die in her esteem - in such
esteem as hers - and put a veil between myself and her angel's face for
ever, by taking advantage of her being here for refuge, so trusting and so
unprotected, to endeavour to exalt myself into her lover? What do I say?
There is no one in the world who would be more opposed to me if I could do
so, than you.'
'Wal'r, my lad,' said the Captain, drooping more and more, 'prowiding
as there is any just cause or impediment why two persons should not be jined
together in the house of bondage, for which you'll overhaul the place and
make a note, I hope I should declare it as promised and wowed in the banns.
So there ain't no other character; ain't there, my lad?'
Walter briskly waved his hand in the negative.
'Well, my lad,' growled the Captain slowly, 'I won't deny but what I
find myself wery much down by the head, along o' this here, or but what I've
gone clean about. But as to Lady lass, Wal'r, mind you, wot's respect and
duty to her, is respect and duty in my articles, howsumever disapinting; and
therefore I follows in your wake, my lad, and feel as you are, no doubt,
acting up to yourself. And there ain't no other character, ain't there?'
said the Captain, musing over the ruins of his fallen castle, with a very
despondent face.
'Now, Captain Cuttle,' said Walter, starting a fresh point with a gayer
air, to cheer the Captain up - but nothing could do that; he was too much
concerned - 'I think we should exert ourselves to find someone who would be
a proper attendant for Miss Dombey while she remains here, and who may be
trusted. None of her relations may. It's clear Miss Dombey feels that they
are all subservient to her father. What has become of Susan?'
'The young woman?' returned the Captain. 'It's my belief as she was
sent away again the will of Heart's Delight. I made a signal for her when
Lady lass first come, and she rated of her wery high, and said she had been
gone a long time.'
'Then,' said Walter, 'do you ask Miss Dombey where she's gone, and
we'll try to find her. The morning's getting on, and Miss Dombey will soon
be rising. You are her best friend. Wait for her upstairs, and leave me to
take care of all down here.'
The Captain, very crest-fallen indeed, echoed the sigh with which
Walter said this, and complied. Florence was delighted with her new room,
anxious to see Walter, and overjoyed at the prospect of greeting her old
friend Susan. But Florence could not say where Susan was gone, except that
it was in Essex, and no one could say, she remembered, unless it were Mr
Toots.
With this information the melancholy Captain returned to Walter, and
gave him to understand that Mr Toots was the young gentleman whom he had
encountered on the door-step, and that he was a friend of his, and that he
was a young gentleman of property, and that he hopelessly adored Miss
Dombey. The Captain also related how the intelligence of Walter's supposed
fate had first made him acquainted with Mr Toots, and how there was solemn
treaty and compact between them, that Mr Toots should be mute upon the
subject of his love.
The question then was, whether Florence could trust Mr Toots; and
Florence saying, with a smile, 'Oh, yes, with her whole heart!' it became
important to find out where Mr Toots lived. This, Florence didn't know, and
the Captain had forgotten; and the Captain was telling Walter, in the little
parlour, that Mr Toots was sure to be there soon, when in came Mr Toots
himself.
'Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, rushing into the parlour without any
ceremony, 'I'm in a state of mind bordering on distraction!'
Mr Toots had discharged those words, as from a mortar, before he
observed Walter, whom he recognised with what may be described as a chuckle
of misery.
'You'll excuse me, Sir,' said Mr Toots, holding his forehead, 'but I'm
at present in that state that my brain is going, if not gone, and anything
approaching to politeness in an individual so situated would be a hollow
mockery. Captain Gills, I beg to request the favour of a private interview.'
'Why, Brother,' returned the Captain, taking him by the hand, 'you are
the man as we was on the look-out for.'
'Oh, Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'what a look-out that must be, of
which I am the object! I haven't dared to shave, I'm in that rash state. I
haven't had my clothes brushed. My hair is matted together. I told the
Chicken that if he offered to clean my boots, I'd stretch him a Corpse
before me!'
All these indications of a disordered mind were verified in Mr Toots's
appearance, which was wild and savage.
'See here, Brother,' said the Captain. 'This here's old Sol Gills's
nevy Wal'r. Him as was supposed to have perished at sea'
Mr Toots took his hand from his forehead, and stared at Walter.
'Good gracious me!' stammered Mr Toots. 'What a complication of misery!
How-de-do? I - I - I'm afraid you must have got very wet. Captain Gills,
will you allow me a word in the shop?'
He took the Captain by the coat, and going out with him whispered:
'That then, Captain Gills, is the party you spoke of, when you said
that he and Miss Dombey were made for one another?'
'Why, ay, my lad,' replied the disconsolate Captain; 'I was of that
mind once.'
'And at this time!' exclaimed Mr Toots, with his hand to his forehead
again. 'Of all others! - a hated rival! At least, he ain't a hated rival,'
said Mr Toots, stopping short, on second thoughts, and taking away his hand;
'what should I hate him for? No. If my affection has been truly
disinterested, Captain Gills, let me prove it now!'
Mr Toots shot back abruptly into the parlour, and said, wringing Walter
by the hand:
'How-de-do? I hope you didn't take any cold. I - I shall be very glad
if you'll give me the pleasure of your acquaintance. I wish you many happy
returns of the day. Upon my word and honour,' said Mr Toots, warming as he
became better acquainted with Walter's face and figure, 'I'm very glad to
see you!'
'Thank you, heartily,' said Walter. 'I couldn't desire a more genuine
and genial welcome.'
'Couldn't you, though?' said Mr Toots, still shaking his hand. 'It's
very kind of you. I'm much obliged to you. How-de-do? I hope you left
everybody quite well over the - that is, upon the - I mean wherever you came
from last, you know.'
All these good wishes, and better intentions, Walter responded to
manfully.
'Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'I should wish to be strictly
honourable; but I trust I may be allowed now, to allude to a certain subject
that - '
'Ay, ay, my lad,' returned the Captain. 'Freely, freely.'
'Then, Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'and Lieutenant Walters - are you
aware that the most dreadful circumstances have been happening at Mr
Dombey's house, and that Miss Dombey herself has left her father, who, in my
opinion,' said Mr Toots, with great excitement, 'is a Brute, that it would
be a flattery to call a - a marble monument, or a bird of prey, - and that
she is not to be found, and has gone no one knows where?'
'May I ask how you heard this?' inquired Walter.
'Lieutenant Walters,' said Mr Toots, who had arrived at that
appellation by a process peculiar to himself; probably by jumbling up his
Christian name with the seafaring profession, and supposing some
relationship between him and the Captain, which would extend, as a matter of
course, to their titles; 'Lieutenant Walters, I can have no objection to
make a straightforward reply. The fact is, that feeling extremely interested
in everything that relates to Miss Dombey - not for any selfish reason,
Lieutenant Walters, for I am well aware that the most able thing I could do
for all parties would be to put an end to my existence, which can only be
regarded as an inconvenience - I have been in the habit of bestowing a
trifle now and then upon a footman; a most respectable young man, of the
name of Towlinson, who has lived in the family some time; and Towlinson
informed me, yesterday evening, that this was the state of things. Since
which, Captain Gills - and Lieutenant Walters - I have been perfectly
frantic, and have been lying down on the sofa all night, the Ruin you
behold.'
'Mr Toots,' said Walter, 'I am happy to be able to relieve your mind.
Pray calm yourself. Miss Dombey is safe and well.'
'Sir!' cried Mr Toots, starting from his chair and shaking hands with
him anew, 'the relief is so excessive, and unspeakable, that if you were to
tell me now that Miss Dombey was married even, I could smile. Yes, Captain
Gills,' said Mr Toots, appealing to him, 'upon my soul and body, I really
think, whatever I might do to myself immediately afterwards, that I could
smile, I am so relieved.'
'It will be a greater relief and delight still, to such a generous mind
as yours,' said Walter, not at all slow in returning his greeting, 'to find
that you can render service to Miss Dombey. Captain Cuttle, will you have
the kindness to take Mr Toots upstairs?'
The Captain beckoned to Mr Toots, who followed him with a bewildered
countenance, and, ascending to the top of the house, was introduced, without
a word of preparation from his conductor, into Florence's new retreat.
Poor Mr Toots's amazement and pleasure at sight of her were such, that
they could find a vent in nothing but extravagance. He ran up to her, seized
her hand, kissed it, dropped it, seized it again, fell upon one knee, shed
tears, chuckled, and was quite regardless of his danger of being pinned by
Diogenes, who, inspired by the belief that there was something hostile to
his mistress in these demonstrations, worked round and round him, as if only
undecided at what particular point to go in for the assault, but quite
resolved to do him a fearful mischief.
'Oh Di, you bad, forgetful dog! Dear Mr Toots, I am so rejoiced to see
you!'
'Thankee,' said Mr Toots, 'I am pretty well, I'm much obliged to you,
Miss Dombey. I hope all the family are the same.'
Mr Toots said this without the least notion of what he was talking
about, and sat down on a chair, staring at Florence with the liveliest
contention of delight and despair going on in his face that any face could
exhibit.
'Captain Gills and Lieutenant Walters have mentioned, Miss Dombey,'
gasped Mr Toots, 'that I can do you some service. If I could by any means
wash out the remembrance of that day at Brighton, when I conducted myself -
much more like a Parricide than a person of independent property,' said Mr
Toots, with severe self-accusation, 'I should sink into the silent tomb with
a gleam of joy.'
'Pray, Mr Toots,' said Florence, 'do not wish me to forget anything in
our acquaintance. I never can, believe me. You have been far too kind and
good to me always.'
'Miss Dombey,' returned Mr Toots, 'your consideration for my feelings
is a part of your angelic character. Thank you a thousand times. It's of no
consequence at all.'
'What we thought of asking you,' said Florence, 'is, whether you
remember where Susan, whom you were so kind as to accompany to the
coach-office when she left me, is to be found.'
'Why I do not certainly, Miss Dombey,' said Mr Toots, after a little
consideration, 'remember the exact name of the place that was on the coach;
and I do recollect that she said she was not going to stop there, but was
going farther on. But, Miss Dombey, if your object is to find her, and to
have her here, myself and the Chicken will produce her with every dispatch
that devotion on my part, and great intelligence on the Chicken's, can
ensure.
Mr Toots was so manifestly delighted and revived by the prospect of
being useful, and the disinterested sincerity of his devotion was so
unquestionable, that it would have been cruel to refuse him. Florence, with
an instinctive delicacy, forbore to urge the least obstacle, though she did
not forbear to overpower him with thanks; and Mr Toots proudly took the
commission upon himself for immediate execution.
'Miss Dombey,' said Mr Toots, touching her proffered hand, with a pang
of hopeless love visibly shooting through him, and flashing out in his face,
'Good-bye! Allow me to take the liberty of saying, that your misfortunes
make me perfectly wretched, and that you may trust me, next to Captain Gills
himself. I am quite aware, Miss Dombey, of my own deficiencies - they're not
of the least consequence, thank you - but I am entirely to be relied upon, I
do assure you, Miss Dombey.'
With that Mr Toots came out of the room, again accompanied by the
Captain, who, standing at a little distance, holding his hat under his arm
and arranging his scattered locks with his hook, had been a not uninterested
witness of what passed. And when the door closed behind them, the light of
Mr Toots's life was darkly clouded again.
'Captain Gills,' said that gentleman, stopping near the bottom of the
stairs, and turning round, 'to tell you the truth, I am not in a frame of
mind at the present moment, in which I could see Lieutenant Walters with
that entirely friendly feeling towards him that I should wish to harbour in
my breast. We cannot always command our feelings, Captain Gills, and I
should take it as a particular favour if you'd let me out at the private
door.'
'Brother,' returned the Captain, 'you shall shape your own course.
Wotever course you take, is plain and seamanlike, I'm wery sure.
'Captain Gills,' said Mr Toots, 'you're extremely kind. Your good
opinion is a consolation to me. There is one thing,' said Mr Toots, standing
in the passage, behind the half-opened door, 'that I hope you'll bear in
mind, Captain Gills, and that I should wish Lieutenant Walters to be made
acquainted with. I have quite come into my property now, you know, and - and
I don't know what to do with it. If I could be at all useful in a pecuniary
point of view, I should glide into the silent tomb with ease and
smoothness.'
Mr Toots said no more, but slipped out quietly and shut the door upon
himself, to cut the Captain off from any reply.
Florence thought of this good creature, long after he had left her,
with mingled emotions of pain and pleasure. He was so honest and
warm-hearted, that to see him again and be assured of his truth to her in
her distress, was a joy and comfort beyond all price; but for that very
reason, it was so affecting to think that she caused him a moment's
unhappiness, or ruffled, by a breath, the harmless current of his life, that
her eyes filled with tears, and her bosom overflowed with pity. Captain
Cuttle, in his different way, thought much of Mr Toots too; and so did
Walter; and when the evening came, and they were all sitting together in
Florence's new room, Walter praised him in a most impassioned manner, and
told Florence what he had said on leaving the house, with every graceful
setting-off in the way of comment and appreciation that his own honesty and
sympathy could surround it with.
Mr Toots did not return upon the next day, or the next, or for several
days; and in the meanwhile Florence, without any new alarm, lived like a
quiet bird in a cage, at the top of the old Instrument-maker's house. But
Florence drooped and hung her head more and more plainly, as the days went
on; and the expression that had been seen in the face of the dead child, was
often turned to the sky from her high window, as if it sought his angel out,
on the bright shore of which he had spoken: lying on his little bed.
Florence had been weak and delicate of late, and the agitation she had
undergone was not without its influences on her health. But it was no bodily
illness that affected her now. She was distressed in mind; and the cause of
her distress was Walter.
Interested in her, anxious for her, proud and glad to serve her, and
showing all this with the enthusiasm and ardour of his character, Florence
saw that he avoided her. All the long day through, he seldom approached her
room. If she asked for him, he came, again for the moment as earnest and as
bright as she remembered him when she was a lost child in the staring
streets; but he soon became constrained - her quick affection was too
watchful not to know it - and uneasy, and soon left her. Unsought, he never
came, all day, between the morning and the night. When the evening closed
in, he was always there, and that was her happiest time, for then she half
believed that the old Walter of her childhood was not changed. But, even
then, some trivial word, look, or circumstance would show her that there was
an indefinable division between them which could not be passed.
And she could not but see that these revealings of a great alteration
in Walter manifested themselves in despite of his utmost efforts to hide
them. In his consideration for her, she thought, and in the earnestness of
his desire to spare her any wound from his kind hand, he resorted to
innumerable little artifices and disguises. So much the more did Florence
feel the greatness of the alteration in him; so much the oftener did she
weep at this estrangement of her brother.
The good Captain - her untiring, tender, ever zealous friend - saw it,
too, Florence thought, and it pained him. He was less cheerful and hopeful
than he had been at first, and would steal looks at her and Walter, by
turns, when they were all three together of an evening, with quite a sad
face.
Florence resolved, at last, to speak to Walter. She believed she knew
now what the cause of his estrangement was, and she thought it would be a
relief to her full heart, and would set him more at ease, if she told him
she had found it out, and quite submitted to it, and did not reproach him.
It was on a certain Sunday afternoon, that Florence took this
resolution. The faithful Captain, in an amazing shirt-collar, was sitting by
her, reading with his spectacles on, and she asked him where Walter was.
'I think he's down below, my lady lass,' returned the Captain.
'I should like to speak to him,' said Florence, rising hurriedly as if
to go downstairs.
'I'll rouse him up here, Beauty,' said the Captain, 'in a trice.'
Thereupon the Captain, with much alacrity, shouldered his book - for he
made it a point of duty to read none but very large books on a Sunday, as
having a more staid appearance: and had bargained, years ago, for a
prodigious volume at a book-stall, five lines of which utterly confounded
him at any time, insomuch that he had not yet ascertained of what subject it
treated - and withdrew. Walter soon appeared.
'Captain Cuttle tells me, Miss Dombey,' he eagerly began on coming in -
but stopped when he saw her face.
'You are not so well to-day. You look distressed. You have been
weeping.'
He spoke so kindly, and with such a fervent tremor in his voice, that
the tears gushed into her eyes at the sound of his words.
'Walter,' said Florence, gently, 'I am not quite well, and I have been
weeping. I want to speak to you.'
He sat down opposite to her, looking at her beautiful and innocent
face; and his own turned pale, and his lips trembled.
'You said, upon the night when I knew that you were saved - and oh!
dear Walter, what I felt that night, and what I hoped!' - '
He put his trembling hand upon the table between them, and sat looking
at her.
- 'that I was changed. I was surprised to hear you say so, but I
understand, now, that I am. Don't be angry with me, Walter. I was too much
overjoyed to think of it, then.'
She seemed a child to him again. It was the ingenuous, confiding,
loving child he saw and heard. Not the dear woman, at whose feet he would
have laid the riches of the earth.
'You remember the last time I saw you, Walter, before you went away?'
He put his hand into his breast, and took out a little purse.
'I have always worn it round my neck! If I had gone down in the deep,
it would have been with me at the bottom of the sea.'
'And you will wear it still, Walter, for my old sake?'
'Until I die!'
She laid her hand on his, as fearlessly and simply, as if not a day had
intervened since she gave him the little token of remembrance.
'I am glad of that. I shall be always glad to think so, Walter. Do you
recollect that a thought of this change seemed to come into our minds at the
same time that evening, when we were talking together?'
'No!' he answered, in a wondering tone.
'Yes, Walter. I had been the means of injuring your hopes and prospects
even then. I feared to think so, then, but I know it now. If you were able,