[content too large, truncated for display]

[table=600,#ffffff,#000000,2][tr][td]
Chapter 60
Chiefly Matrimonial
The grand half-yearly festival holden by Doctor and Mrs Blimber, on which occasion they requested the pleasure of the company of every young gentleman pursuing his studies in that genteel establishment, at an early party, when the hour was half-past seven o'clock, and when the object was quadrilles, had duly taken place, about this time; and the young gentlemen, with no unbecoming demonstrations of levity, had betaken themselves, in a state of scholastic repletion, to their own homes. Mr Skettles had repaired abroad, permanently to grace the establishment of his father Sir Barnet Skettles, whose popular manners had obtained him a diplomatic appointment, the honours of which were discharged by himself and Lady Skettles, to the satisfaction even of their own countrymen and countrywomen: which was considered almost miraculous. Mr Tozer, now a young man of lofty stature, in Wellington boots, was so extremely full of antiquity as to be nearly on a par with a genuine ancient Roman in his knowledge of English: a triumph that affected his good parents with the tenderest emotions, and caused the father and mother of Mr Briggs (whose learning, like ill-arranged luggage, was so tightly packed that he couldn't get at anything he wanted) to hide their diminished heads. The fruit laboriously gathered from the tree of knowledge by this latter young gentleman, in fact, had been subjected to so much pressure, that it had become a kind of intellectual Norfolk Biffin, and had nothing of its original form or flavour remaining. Master Bitherstone now, on whom the forcing system had the happier and not uncommon effect of leaving no impression whatever, when the forcing apparatus ceased to work, was in a much more comfortable plight; and being then on shipboard, bound for Bengal, found himself forgetting, with such admirable rapidity, that it was doubtful whether his declensions of noun-substantives would hold out to the end of the voyage.
When Doctor Blimber, in pursuance of the usual course, would have said to the young gentlemen, on the morning of the party, 'Gentlemen, we will resume our studies on the twenty-fifth of next month,' he departed from the usual course, and said, 'Gentlemen, when our friend Cincinnatus retired to his farm, he did not present to the senate any Roman who he sought to nominate as his successor.' But there is a Roman here,' said Doctor Blimber, laying his hand on the shoulder of Mr Feeder, B.A., adolescens imprimis gravis et doctus, gentlemen, whom I, a retiring Cincinnatus, wish to present to my little senate, as their future Dictator. Gentlemen, we will resume our studies on the twenty-fifth of next month, under the auspices of Mr Feeder, B.A.' At this (which Doctor Blimber had previously called upon all the parents, and urbanely explained), the young gentlemen cheered; and Mr Tozer, on behalf of the rest, instantly presented the Doctor with a silver inkstand, in a speech containing very little of the mother-tongue, but fifteen quotations from the Latin, and seven from the Greek, which moved the younger of the young gentlemen to discontent and envy: they remarking, 'Oh, ah. It was all very well for old Tozer, but they didn't subscribe money for old Tozer to show off with, they supposed; did they? What business was it of old Tozer's more than anybody else's? It wasn't his inkstand. Why couldn't he leave the boys' property alone?' and murmuring other expressions of their dissatisfaction, which seemed to find a greater relief in calling him old Tozer, than in any other available vent.
Not a word had been said to the young gentlemen, nor a hint dropped, of anything like a contemplated marriage between Mr Feeder, B.A., and the fair Cornelia Blimber. Doctor Blimber, especially, seemed to take pains to look as if nothing would surprise him more; but it was perfectly well known to all the young gentlemen nevertheless, and when they departed for the society of their relations and friends, they took leave of Mr Feeder with awe.
Mr Feeder's most romantic visions were fulfilled. The Doctor had determined to paint the house outside, and put it in thorough repair; and to give up the business, and to give up Cornelia. The painting and repairing began upon the very day of the young gentlemen's departure, and now behold! the wedding morning was come, and Cornelia, in a new pair of spectacles, was waiting to be led to the hymeneal altar.
The Doctor with his learned legs, and Mrs Blimber in a lilac bonnet, and Mr Feeder, B.A., with his long knuckles and his bristly head of hair, and Mr Feeder's brother, the Reverend Alfred Feeder, M.A., who was to perform the ceremony, were all assembled in the drawing-room, and Cornelia with her orange-flowers and bridesmaids had just come down, and looked, as of old, a little squeezed in appearance, but very charming, when the door opened, and the weak-eyed young man, in a loud voice, made the following proclamation:
'MR AND MRS TOOTS!'
Upon which there entered Mr Toots, grown extremely stout, and on his arm a lady very handsomely and becomingly dressed, with very bright black eyes. 'Mrs Blimber,' said Mr Toots, 'allow me to present my wife.'
Mrs Blimber was delighted to receive her. Mrs Blimber was a little condescending, but extremely kind.
'And as you've known me for a long time, you know,' said Mr Toots, 'let me assure you that she is one of the most remarkable women that ever lived.'
'My dear!' remonstrated Mrs Toots.
'Upon my word and honour she is,' said Mr Toots. 'I - I assure you, Mrs Blimber, she's a most extraordinary woman.'
Mrs Toots laughed merrily, and Mrs Blimber led her to Cornelia. Mr Toots having paid his respects in that direction and having saluted his old preceptor, who said, in allusion to his conjugal state, 'Well, Toots, well, Toots! So you are one of us, are you, Toots?' - retired with Mr Feeder, B.A., into a window.
Mr Feeder, B.A., being in great spirits, made a spar at Mr Toots, and tapped him skilfully with the back of his hand on the breastbone.
'Well, old Buck!' said Mr Feeder with a laugh. 'Well! Here we are! Taken in and done for. Eh?'
'Feeder,' returned Mr Toots. 'I give you joy. If you're as - as- as perfectly blissful in a matrimonial life, as I am myself, you'll have nothing to desire.'
'I don't forget my old friends, you see,' said Mr Feeder. 'I ask em to my wedding, Toots.'
'Feeder,' replied Mr Toots gravely, 'the fact is, that there were several circumstances which prevented me from communicating with you until after my marriage had been solemnised. In the first place, I had made a perfect Brute of myself to you, on the subject of Miss Dombey; and I felt that if you were asked to any wedding of mine, you would naturally expect that it was with Miss Dombey, which involved explanations, that upon my word and honour, at that crisis, would have knocked me completely over. In the second place, our wedding was strictly private; there being nobody present but one friend of myself and Mrs Toots's, who is a Captain in - I don't exactly know in what,' said Mr Toots, 'but it's of no consequence. I hope, Feeder, that in writing a statement of what had occurred before Mrs Toots and myself went abroad upon our foreign tour, I fully discharged the offices of friendship.'
'Toots, my boy,' said Mr Feeder, shaking his hands, 'I was joking.'
'And now, Feeder,' said Mr Toots, 'I should be glad to know what you think of my union.'
'Capital!' returned Mr Feeder.
'You think it's capital, do you, Feeder?'said Mr Toots solemnly. 'Then how capital must it be to Me! For you can never know what an extraordinary woman that is.'
Mr Feeder was willing to take it for granted. But Mr Toots shook his head, and wouldn't hear of that being possible.
'You see,' said Mr Toots, 'what I wanted in a wife was - in short, was sense. Money, Feeder, I had. Sense I - I had not, particularly.'
Mr Feeder murmured, 'Oh, yes, you had, Toots!' But Mr Toots said:
'No, Feeder, I had not. Why should I disguise it? I had not. I knew that sense was There,' said Mr Toots, stretching out his hand towards his wife, 'in perfect heaps. I had no relation to object or be offended, on the score of station; for I had no relation. I have never had anybody belonging to me but my guardian, and him, Feeder, I have always considered as a Pirate and a Corsair. Therefore, you know it was not likely,' said Mr Toots, 'that I should take his opinion.'
'No,' said Mr Feeder.
'Accordingly,' resumed Mr Toots, 'I acted on my own. Bright was the day on which I did so! Feeder! Nobody but myself can tell what the capacity of that woman's mind is. If ever the Rights of Women, and all that kind of thing, are properly attended to, it will be through her powerful intellect - Susan, my dear!' said Mr Toots, looking abruptly out of the windows 'pray do not exert yourself!'
'My dear,' said Mrs Toots, 'I was only talking.'
'But, my love,' said Mr Toots, 'pray do not exert yourself. You really must be careful. Do not, my dear Susan, exert yourself. She's so easily excited,' said Mr Toots, apart to Mrs Blimber, 'and then she forgets the medical man altogether.'
Mrs Blimber was impressing on Mrs Toots the necessity of caution, when Mr Feeder, B.A., offered her his arm, and led her down to the carriages that were waiting to go to church. Doctor Blimber escorted Mrs Toots. Mr Toots escorted the fair bride, around whose lambent spectacles two gauzy little bridesmaids fluttered like moths. Mr Feeder's brother, Mr Alfred Feeder, M.A., had already gone on, in advance, to assume his official functions.
The ceremony was performed in an admirable manner. Cornelia, with her crisp little curls, 'went in,' as the Chicken might have said, with great composure; and Doctor Blimber gave her away, like a man who had quite made up his mind to it. The gauzy little bridesmaids appeared to suffer most. Mrs Blimber was affected, but gently so; and told the Reverend Mr Alfred Feeder, M.A., on the way home, that if she could only have seen Cicero in his retirement at Tusculum, she would not have had a wish, now, ungratified.
There was a breakfast afterwards, limited to the same small party; at which the spirits of Mr Feeder, B.A., were tremendous, and so communicated themselves to Mrs Toots that Mr Toots was several times heard to observe, across the table, 'My dear Susan, don't exert yourself!' The best of it was, that Mr Toots felt it incunbent on him to make a speech; and in spite of a whole code of telegraphic dissuasions from Mrs Toots, appeared on his legs for the first time in his life.
'I really,' said Mr Toots, 'in this house, where whatever was done to me in the way of - of any mental confusion sometimes - which is of no consequence and I impute to nobody - I was always treated like one of Doctor Blimber's family, and had a desk to myself for a considerable period - can - not - allow - my friend Feeder to be - '
Mrs Toots suggested 'married.'
'It may not be inappropriate to the occasion, or altogether uninteresting,' said Mr Toots with a delighted face, 'to observe that my wife is a most extraordinary woman, and would do this much better than myself - allow my friend Feeder to be married - especially to - '
Mrs Toots suggested 'to Miss Blimber.'
'To Mrs Feeder, my love!' said Mr Toots, in a subdued tone of private discussion: "'whom God hath joined," you know, "let no man" - don't you know? I cannot allow my friend Feeder to be married - especially to Mrs Feeder - without proposing their - their - Toasts; and may,' said Mr Toots, fixing his eyes on his wife, as if for inspiration in a high flight, 'may the torch of Hymen be the beacon of joy, and may the flowers we have this day strewed in their path, be the - the banishers of- of gloom!'
Doctor Blimber, who had a taste for metaphor, was pleased with this, and said, 'Very good, Toots! Very well said, indeed, Toots!' and nodded his head and patted his hands. Mr Feeder made in reply, a comic speech chequered with sentiment. Mr Alfred Feeder, M.A, was afterwards very happy on Doctor and Mrs Blimber; Mr Feeder, B.A., scarcely less so, on the gauzy little bridesmaids. Doctor Blimber then, in a sonorous voice, delivered a few thoughts in the pastoral style, relative to the rushes among which it was the intention of himself and Mrs Blimber to dwell, and the bee that would hum around their cot. Shortly after which, as the Doctor's eyes were twinkling in a remarkable manner, and his son-in-law had already observed that time was made for slaves, and had inquired whether Mrs Toots sang, the discreet Mrs Blimber dissolved the sitting, and sent Cornelia away, very cool and comfortable, in a post-chaise, with the man of her heart
Mr and Mrs Toots withdrew to the Bedford (Mrs Toots had been there before in old times, under her maiden name of Nipper), and there found a letter, which it took Mr Toots such an enormous time to read, that Mrs Toots was frightened.
'My dear Susan,' said Mr Toots, 'fright is worse than exertion. Pray be calm!'
'Who is it from?' asked Mrs Toots.
'Why, my love,' said Mr Toots, 'it's from Captain Gills. Do not excite yourself. Walters and Miss Dombey are expected home!'
'My dear,' said Mrs Toots, raising herself quickly from the sofa, very pale, 'don't try to deceive me, for it's no use, they're come home - I see it plainly in your face!'
'She's a most extraordinary woman!' exclaimed Mr Toots, in rapturous admiration. 'You're perfectly right, my love, they have come home. Miss Dombey has seen her father, and they are reconciled!'
'Reconciled!' cried Mrs Toots, clapping her hands.
'My dear,' said Mr Toots; 'pray do not exert yourself. Do remember the medical man! Captain Gills says - at least he don't say, but I imagine, from what I can make out, he means - that Miss Dombey has brought her unfortunate father away from his old house, to one where she and Walters are living; that he is lying very ill there - supposed to be dying; and that she attends upon him night and day.'
Mrs Toots began to cry quite bitterly.
'My dearest Susan,' replied Mr Toots, 'do, do, if you possibly can, remember the medical man! If you can't, it's of no consequence - but do endeavour to!'
His wife, with her old manner suddenly restored, so pathetically entreated him to take her to her precious pet, her little mistress, her own darling, and the like, that Mr Toots, whose sympathy and admiration were of the strongest kind, consented from his very heart of hearts; and they agreed to depart immediately, and present themselves in answer to the Captain's letter.
Now some hidden sympathies of things, or some coincidences, had that day brought the Captain himself (toward whom Mr and Mrs Toots were soon journeying) into the flowery train of wedlock; not as a principal, but as an accessory. It happened accidentally, and thus:
The Captain, having seen Florence and her baby for a moment, to his unbounded content, and having had a long talk with Walter, turned out for a walk; feeling it necessary to have some solitary meditation on the changes of human affairs, and to shake his glazed hat profoundly over the fall of Mr Dombey, for whom the generosity and simplicity of his nature were awakened in a lively manner. The Captain would have been very low, indeed, on the unhappy gentleman's account, but for the recollection of the baby; which afforded him such intense satisfaction whenever it arose, that he laughed aloud as he went along the street, and, indeed, more than once, in a sudden impulse of joy, threw up his glazed hat and caught it again; much to the amazement of the spectators. The rapid alternations of light and shade to which these two conflicting subjects of reflection exposed the Captain, were so very trying to his spirits, that he felt a long walk necessary to his composure; and as there is a great deal in the influence of harmonious associations, he chose, for the scene of this walk, his old neighbourhood, down among the mast, oar, and block makers, ship-biscuit bakers, coal-whippers, pitch-kettles, sailors, canals, docks, swing-bridges, and other soothing objects.
These peaceful scenes, and particularly the region of Limehouse Hole and thereabouts, were so influential in calming the Captain, that he walked on with restored tranquillity, and was, in fact, regaling himself, under his breath, with the ballad of Lovely Peg, when, on turning a corner, he was suddenly transfixed and rendered speechless by a triumphant procession that he beheld advancing towards him.
This awful demonstration was headed by that determined woman Mrs MacStinger, who, preserving a countenance of inexorable resolution, and wearing conspicuously attached to her obdurate bosom a stupendous watch and appendages, which the Captain recognised at a glance as the property of Bunsby, conducted under her arm no other than that sagacious mariner; he, with the distraught and melancholy visage of a captive borne into a foreign land, meekly resigning himself to her will. Behind them appeared the young MacStingers, in a body, exulting. Behind them, M~ two ladies of a terrible and steadfast aspect, leading between them a short gentleman in a tall hat, who likewise exulted. In the wake, appeared Bunsby's boy, bearing umbrellas. The whole were in good marching order; and a dreadful smartness that pervaded the party would have sufficiently announced, if the intrepid countenances of the ladies had been wanting, that it was a procession of sacrifice, and that the victim was Bunsby.
The first impulse of the Captain was to run away. This also appeared to be the first impulse of Bunsby, hopeless as its execution must have proved. But a cry of recognition proceeding from the party, and Alexander MacStinger running up to the Captain with open arms, the Captain struck.
'Well, Cap'en Cuttle!' said Mrs MacStinger. 'This is indeed a meeting! I bear no malice now, Cap'en Cuttle - you needn't fear that I'm a going to cast any reflections. I hope to go to the altar in another spirit.' Here Mrs MacStinger paused, and drawing herself up, and inflating her bosom with a long breath, said, in allusion to the victim, 'My 'usband, Cap'en Cuttle!'
The abject Bunsby looked neither to the right nor to the left, nor at his bride, nor at his friend, but straight before him at nothing. The Captain putting out his hand, Bunsby put out his; but, in answer to the Captain's greeting, spake no word.
'Cap'en Cuttle,' said Mrs MacStinger, 'if you would wish to heal up past animosities, and to see the last of your friend, my 'usband, as a single person, we should be 'appy of your company to chapel. Here is a lady here,' said Mrs MacStinger, turning round to the more intrepid of the two, 'my bridesmaid, that will be glad of your protection, Cap'en Cuttle.'
The short gentleman in the tall hat, who it appeared was the husband of the other lady, and who evidently exulted at the reduction of a fellow creature to his own condition, gave place at this, and resigned the lady to Captain Cuttle. The lady immediately seized him, and, observing that there was no time to lose, gave the word, in a strong voice, to advance.
The Captain's concern for his friend, not unmingled, at first, with some concern for himself - for a shadowy terror that he might be married by violence, possessed him, until his knowledge of the service came to his relief, and remembering the legal obligation of saying, 'I will,' he felt himself personally safe so long as he resolved, if asked any question, distinctly to reply I won't' - threw him into a profuse perspiration; and rendered him, for a time, insensible to the movements of the procession, of which he now formed a feature, and to the conversation of his fair companion. But as he became less agitated, he learnt from this lady that she was the widow of a Mr Bokum, who had held an employment in the Custom House; that she was the dearest friend of Mrs MacStinger, whom she considered a pattern for her sex; that she had often heard of the Captain, and now hoped he had repented of his past life; that she trusted Mr Bunsby knew what a blessing he had gained, but that she feared men seldom did know what such blessings were, until they had lost them; with more to the same purpose.
All this time, the Captain could not but observe that Mrs Bokum kept her eyes steadily on the bridegroom, and that whenever they came near a court or other narrow turning which appeared favourable for flight, she was on the alert to cut him off if he attempted escape. The other lady, too, as well as her husband, the short gentleman with the tall hat, were plainly on guard, according to a preconcerted plan; and the wretched man was so secured by Mrs MacStinger, that any effort at self-preservation by flight was rendered futile. This, indeed, was apparent to the mere populace, who expressed their perception of the fact by jeers and cries; to all of which, the dread MacStinger was inflexibly indifferent, while Bunsby himself appeared in a state of unconsciousness.
The Captain made many attempts to accost the philosopher, if only in a monosyllable or a signal; but always failed, in consequence of the vigilance of the guard, and the difficulty, at all times peculiar to Bunsby's constitution, of having his attention aroused by any outward and visible sign whatever. Thus they approached the chapel, a neat whitewashed edifice, recently engaged by the Reverend Melchisedech Howler, who had consented, on very urgent solicitation, to give the world another two years of existence, but had informed his followers that, then, it must positively go.
While the Reverend Melchisedech was offering up some extemporary orisons, the Captain found an opportunity of growling in the bridegroom's ear:
'What cheer, my lad, what cheer?'
To which Bunsby replied, with a forgetfulness of the Reverend Melchisedech, which nothing but his desperate circumstances could have excused:
'D-----d bad,'
'Jack Bunsby,' whispered the Captain, 'do you do this here, of your own free will?'
Mr Bunsby answered 'No.'
'Why do you do it, then, my lad?' inquired the Captain, not unnaturally.
Bunsby, still looking, and always looking with an immovable countenance, at the opposite side of the world, made no reply.
'Why not sheer off?' said the Captain. 'Eh?' whispered Bunsby, with a momentary gleam of hope. 'Sheer off,' said the Captain.
'Where's the good?' retorted the forlorn sage. 'She'd capter me agen.
'Try!' replied the Captain. 'Cheer up! Come! Now's your time. Sheer off, Jack Bunsby!'
Jack Bunsby, however, instead of profiting by the advice, said in a doleful whisper:
'It all began in that there chest o' yourn. Why did I ever conwoy her into port that night?'
'My lad,' faltered the Captain, 'I thought as you had come over her; not as she had come over you. A man as has got such opinions as you have!'
Mr Bunsby merely uttered a suppressed groan.
'Come!' said the Captain, nudging him with his elbow, 'now's your time! Sheer off! I'll cover your retreat. The time's a flying. Bunsby! It's for liberty. Will you once?'
Bunsby was immovable. 'Bunsby!' whispered the Captain, 'will you twice ?' Bunsby wouldn't twice.
'Bunsby!' urged the Captain, 'it's for liberty; will you three times? Now or never!'
Bunsby didn't then, and didn't ever; for Mrs MacStinger immediately afterwards married him.
One of the most frightful circumstances of the ceremony to the Captain, was the deadly interest exhibited therein by Juliana MacStinger; and the fatal concentration of her faculties, with which that promising child, already the image of her parent, observed the whole proceedings. The Captain saw in this a succession of man-traps stretching out infinitely; a series of ages of oppression and coercion, through which the seafaring line was doomed. It was a more memorable sight than the unflinching steadiness of Mrs Bokum and the other lady, the exultation of the short gentleman in the tall hat, or even the fell inflexibility of Mrs MacStinger. The Master MacStingers understood little of what was going on, and cared less; being chiefly engaged, during the ceremony, in treading on one another's half-boots; but the contrast afforded by those wretched infants only set off and adorned the precocious woman in Juliana. Another year or two, the Captain thought, and to lodge where that child was, would be destruction.
The ceremony was concluded by a general spring of the young family on Mr Bunsby, whom they hailed by the endearing name of father, and from whom they solicited half-pence. These gushes of affection over, the procession was about to issue forth again, when it was delayed for some little time by an unexpected transport on the part of Alexander MacStinger. That dear child, it seemed, connecting a chapel with tombstones, when it was entered for any purpose apart from the ordinary religious exercises, could not be persuaded but that his mother was now to be decently interred, and lost to him for ever. In the anguish of this conviction, he screamed with astonishing force, and turned black in the face. However touching these marks of a tender disposition were to his mother, it was not in the character of that remarkable woman to permit her recognition of them to degenerate into weakness. Therefore, after vainly endeavouring to convince his reason by shakes, pokes, bawlings-out, and similar applications to his head, she led him into the air, and tried another method; which was manifested to the marriage party by a quick succession of sharp sounds, resembling applause, and subsequently, by their seeing Alexander in contact with the coolest paving-stone in the court, greatly flushed, and loudly lamenting.
The procession being then in a condition to form itself once more, and repair to Brig Place, where a marriage feast was in readiness, returned as it had come; not without the receipt, by Bunsby, of many humorous congratulations from the populace on his recently-acquired happiness. The Captain accompanied it as far as the house-door, but, being made uneasy by the gentler manner of Mrs Bokum, who, now that she was relieved from her engrossing duty - for the watchfulness and alacrity of the ladies sensibly diminished when the bridegroom was safely married - had greater leisure to show an interest in his behalf, there left it and the captive; faintly pleading an appointment, and promising to return presently. The Captain had another cause for uneasiness, in remorsefully reflecting that he had been the first means of Bunsby's entrapment, though certainly without intending it, and through his unbounded faith in the resources of that philosopher.
To go back to old Sol Gills at the wooden Midshipman's, and not first go round to ask how Mr Dombey was - albeit the house where he lay was out of London, and away on the borders of a fresh heath - was quite out of the Captain's course. So he got a lift when he was tired, and made out the journey gaily.
The blinds were pulled down, and the house so quiet, that the Captain was almost afraid to knock; but listening at the door, he heard low voices within, very near it, and, knocking softly, was admitted by Mr Toots. Mr Toots and his wife had, in fact, just arrived there; having been at the Midshipman's to seek him, and having there obtained the address.
They were not so recently arrived, but that Mrs Toots had caught the baby from somebody, taken it in her arms, and sat down on the stairs, hugging and fondling it. Florence was stooping down beside her; and no one could have said which Mrs Toots was hugging and fondling most, the mother or the child, or which was the tenderer, Florence of Mrs Toots, or Mrs Toots of her, or both of the baby; it was such a little group of love and agitation.
'And is your Pa very ill, my darling dear Miss Floy?' asked Susan.
'He is very, very ill,' said Florence. 'But, Susan, dear, you must not speak to me as you used to speak. And what's this?' said Florence, touching her clothes, in amazement. 'Your old dress, dear? Your old cap, curls, and all?'
Susan burst into tears, and showered kisses on the little hand that had touched her so wonderingly.
'My dear Miss Dombey,' said Mr Toots, stepping forward, 'I'll explain. She's the most extraordinary woman. There are not many to equal her! She has always said - she said before we were married, and has said to this day - that whenever you came home, she'd come to you in no dress but the dress she used to serve you in, for fear she might seem strange to you, and you might like her less. I admire the dress myself,' said Mr Toots, 'of all things. I adore her in it! My dear Miss Dombey, she'll be your maid again, your nurse, all that she ever was, and more. There's no change in her. But, Susan, my dear,' said Mr Toots, who had spoken with great feeling and high admiration, 'all I ask is, that you'll remember the medical man, and not exert yourself too much!'
布林伯博士和夫人每半年举行一次隆重的庆祝典礼，他脽艇请在那所高贵的学校中学习的每一位年轻的先生脽外临一个早晚会，7点半开始，在晚会上举行四对舞，大约在这个时候，这个庆祝典礼已经按时举行过了；这些年轻的先生们没有轻浮地表露出任何不得体的狂喜，已装满一肚子学问，回到自己家里去。斯凯特尔斯先生这时已前往国外，为他的家庭永远增光；他的父亲巴尼特•斯凯特尔斯爵士由于深孚众望的举止风度，被任命为一个外交官，他和斯凯特尔斯夫人一起履行着这个光荣的职务，甚至他们本国的男同胞们和女同胞们都感到满意，这一点大家都认为几乎是一个奇迹。托泽先生现在是一位身材高大的年轻人，穿着惠灵顿长靴，脑子里装满了古代的风习制度，因而他在英语知识方面只跟一位真正的古代的罗马人不相上下；他在古代风习制度方面所取得的这个了不起的成就使他善良的双亲深受感动，也使布里格斯先生的父母把他们羞愧的脸孔掩藏起来；布里格斯先生的学识，就像整理得不好的行李，捆扎得很紧，因此他无法取得他想要得到的任何东西。这位年轻的先生从知识树上费力采集的果实由于事实上受到过很大的压力，因此它已变成一种智力上的诺福克苹果饼①，完全失去了原先的形状与滋味。比瑟斯通少爷的不幸境况现在要好受得多；当高压的机器停止工作时，它在他身上没有留下任何压痕，这是这个高压制度在他身上所产生的比较令人高兴的、不是罕见的效果；这时他正在开往孟加拉的船上，感到自己正以惊人的速度丧失记忆力；他脑子中名词词形变化的知识是否能保持到旅途终点，这是可疑的。
按照惯例，在举行晚会的那天早上，布林伯博士本来会向年轻的先生们说，“先生们，我们将在下个月的二十五日重新开始我们的学习”；但是他却打破了惯例，说，“先生们，当我们的朋友辛辛纳图斯②退隐到他的农庄去时，他没有向元老院提名任何罗马人作为他的继承人。但是这里有一位罗马人，”布林伯博士把手搁在文学士菲德先生的肩膀上说，“adolescensimprimisgravisetdoc－tus③，先生们，我，一个退隐的辛辛纳图斯，希望向我的小元老院提名他为他们未来的执政官。先生们，我们将在下个月的二十五日在文学士菲德先生的主持下，重新开始我们的学习。”布林伯博士事先曾拜访过所有的父母们，并彬彬有礼地向他们解释过这件事。年轻的先生们听他发表了这番讲话后，都发出欢呼。托泽先生代表所有的学生们，立即向博士赠送了一个银制的墨水台，并发表了一篇讲话，讲话中很少使用本国语言，但却包含了十五个拉丁语的引用语和七个希腊语的引用语；年轻的先生们当中那些年龄比较小的人对这感到不满和妒嫉，他们说，“嘿，您瞧！这对老托泽来说倒薀椭不错的，但要知道他们捐出钱来并不是让老托泽卖弄自己的，是不是？老托泽为什么要与其他人不同？这又不是他的墨水台。为什么他不能把大家的财产放在那里就此了事？”他们还嘀咕着其他表示不满的话，似乎觉得称他为“老托泽”比采用其他出气的方式能得到更大的安慰。
--------
①诺福克苹果饼（NorfolkBiffin）：把苹果压成扁平、进行烘烤后做成的饼，它主要是在英格兰东岸的诺福克郡产生的。
②辛辛纳图斯（LuciusQuinctiusCincinatus，公元前519？——？年）：罗马政治家；他的事迹带有神秘色彩。根据历史传说，公元前458年，他被罗马城居民推举为执政官，让他�

[content too large, truncated for display]

[table=600,#ffffff,#000000,2][tr][td]
Chapter 61
Relenting
Florence had need of help. Her father's need of it was sore, and made the aid of her old friend invaluable. Death stood at his pillow. A shade, already, of what he had been, shattered in mind, and perilously sick in body, he laid his weary head down on the bed his daughter's hands prepared for him, and had never raised it since.
She was always with him. He knew her, generally; though, in the wandering of his brain, he often confused the circumstances under which he spoke to her. Thus he would address her, sometimes, as if his boy were newly dead; and would tell her, that although he had said nothing of her ministering at the little bedside, yet he had seen it - he had seen it; and then would hide his face and sob, and put out his worn hand. Sometimes he would ask her for herself. 'Where is Florence?' 'I am here, Papa, I am here.' 'I don't know her!' he would cry. 'We have been parted so long, that I don't know her!' and then a staring dread would he upon him, until she could soothe his perturbation; and recall the tears she tried so hard, at other times, to dry.
He rambled through the scenes of his old pursuits - through many where Florence lost him as she listened - sometimes for hours. He would repeat that childish question, 'What is money?' and ponder on it, and think about it, and reason with himself, more or less connectedly, for a good answer; as if it had never been proposed to him until that moment. He would go on with a musing repetition of the title of his old firm twenty thousand times, and at every one of them, would turn his head upon his pillow. He would count his children - one - two - stop, and go back, and begin again in the same way.
But this was when his mind was in its most distracted state. In all the other phases of its illness, and in those to which it was most constant, it always turned on Florence. What he would oftenest do was this: he would recall that night he had so recently remembered, the night on which she came down to his room, and would imagine that his heart smote him, and that he went out after her, and up the stairs to seek her. Then, confounding that time with the later days of the many footsteps, he would be amazed at their number, and begin to count them as he followed her. Here, of a sudden, was a bloody footstep going on among the others; and after it there began to be, at intervals, doors standing open, through which certain terrible pictures were seen, in mirrors, of haggard men, concealing something in their breasts. Still, among the many footsteps and the bloody footsteps here and there, was the step of Florence. Still she was going on before. Still the restless mind went, following and counting, ever farther, ever higher, as to the summit of a mighty tower that it took years to climb.
One day he inquired if that were not Susan who had spoken a long while ago.
Florence said 'Yes, dear Papa;' and asked him would he like to see her?
He said 'very much.' And Susan, with no little trepidation, showed herself at his bedside.
It seemed a great relief to him. He begged her not to go; to understand that he forgave her what she had said; and that she was to stay. Florence and he were very different now, he said, and very happy. Let her look at this! He meant his drawing the gentle head down to his pillow, and laying it beside him.
He remained like this for days and weeks. At length, lying, the faint feeble semblance of a man, upon his bed, and speaking in a voice so low that they could only hear him by listening very near to his lips, he became quiet. It was dimly pleasant to him now, to lie there, with the window open, looking out at the summer sky and the trees: and, in the evening, at the sunset. To watch the shadows of the clouds and leaves, and seem to feel a sympathy with shadows. It was natural that he should. To him, life and the world were nothing else.
He began to show now that he thought of Florence's fatigue: and often taxed his weakness to whisper to her, 'Go and walk, my dearest, in the sweet air. Go to your good husband!' One time when Walter was in his room, he beckoned him to come near, and to stoop down; and pressing his hand, whispered an assurance to him that he knew he could trust him with his child when he was dead.
It chanced one evening, towards sunset, when Florence and Walter were sitting in his room together, as he liked to see them, that Florence, having her baby in her arms, began in a low voice to sing to the little fellow, and sang the old tune she had so often sung to the dead child: He could not bear it at the time; he held up his trembling hand, imploring her to stop; but next day he asked her to repeat it, and to do so often of an evening: which she did. He listening, with his face turned away.
Florence was sitting on a certain time by his window, with her work-basket between her and her old attendant, who was still her faithful companion. He had fallen into a doze. It was a beautiful evening, with two hours of light to come yet; and the tranquillity and quiet made Florence very thoughtful. She was lost to everything for the moment, but the occasion when the so altered figure on the bed had first presented her to her beautiful Mama; when a touch from Walter leaning on the back of her chair, made her start.
'My dear,' said Walter, 'there is someone downstairs who wishes to speak to you.
She fancied Walter looked grave, and asked him if anything had happened.
'No, no, my love!' said Walter. 'I have seen the gentleman myself, and spoken with him. Nothing has happened. Will you come?'
Florence put her arm through his; and confiding her father to the black-eyed Mrs Toots, who sat as brisk and smart at her work as black-eyed woman could, accompanied her husband downstairs. In the pleasant little parlour opening on the garden, sat a gentleman, who rose to advance towards her when she came in, but turned off, by reason of some peculiarity in his legs, and was only stopped by the table.
Florence then remembered Cousin Feenix, whom she had not at first recognised in the shade of the leaves. Cousin Feenix took her hand, and congratulated her upon her marriage.
'I could have wished, I am sure,' said Cousin Feenix, sitting down as Florence sat, to have had an earlier opportunity of offering my congratulations; but, in point of fact, so many painful occurrences have happened, treading, as a man may say, on one another's heels, that I have been in a devil of a state myself, and perfectly unfit for every description of society. The only description of society I have kept, has been my own; and it certainly is anything but flattering to a man's good opinion of his own sources, to know that, in point of fact, he has the capacity of boring himself to a perfectly unlimited extent.'
Florence divined, from some indefinable constraint and anxiety in this gentleman's manner - which was always a gentleman's, in spite of the harmless little eccentricities that attached to it - and from Walter's manner no less, that something more immediately tending to some object was to follow this.
'I have been mentioning to my friend Mr Gay, if I may be allowed to have the honour of calling him so,' said Cousin Feenix, 'that I am rejoiced to hear that my friend Dombey is very decidedly mending. I trust my friend Dombey will not allow his mind to be too much preyed upon, by any mere loss of fortune. I cannot say that I have ever experienced any very great loss of fortune myself: never having had, in point of fact, any great amount of fortune to lose. But as much as I could lose, I have lost; and I don't find that I particularly care about it. I know my friend Dombey to be a devilish honourable man; and it's calculated to console my friend Dombey very much, to know, that this is the universal sentiment. Even Tommy Screwzer, - a man of an extremely bilious habit, with whom my friend Gay is probably acquainted - cannot say a syllable in disputation of the fact.'
Florence felt, more than ever, that there was something to come; and looked earnestly for it. So earnestly, that Cousin Feenix answered, as if she had spoken.
'The fact is,' said Cousin Feenix, 'that my friend Gay and myself have been discussing the propriety of entreating a favour at your hands; and that I have the consent of my friend Gay - who has met me in an exceedingly kind and open manner, for which I am very much indebted to him - to solicit it. I am sensible that so amiable a lady as the lovely and accomplished daughter of my friend Dombey will not require much urging; but I am happy to know, that I am supported by my friend Gay's influence and approval. As in my parliamentary time, when a man had a motion to make of any sort - which happened seldom in those days, for we were kept very tight in hand, the leaders on both sides being regular Martinets, which was a devilish good thing for the rank and file, like myself, and prevented our exposing ourselves continually, as a great many of us had a feverish anxiety to do - as' in my parliamentary time, I was about to say, when a man had leave to let off any little private popgun, it was always considered a great point for him to say that he had the happiness of believing that his sentiments were not without an echo in the breast of Mr Pitt; the pilot, in point of fact, who had weathered the storm. Upon which, a devilish large number of fellows immediately cheered, and put him in spirits. Though the fact is, that these fellows, being under orders to cheer most excessively whenever Mr Pitt's name was mentioned, became so proficient that it always woke 'em. And they were so entirely innocent of what was going on, otherwise, that it used to be commonly said by Conversation Brown - four-bottle man at the Treasury Board, with whom the father of my friend Gay was probably acquainted, for it was before my friend Gay's time - that if a man had risen in his place, and said that he regretted to inform the house that there was an Honourable Member in the last stage of convulsions in the Lobby, and that the Honourable Member's name was Pitt, the approbation would have been vociferous.'
This postponement of the point, put Florence in a flutter; and she looked from Cousin Feenix to Walter, in increasing agitatioN
'My love,' said Walter, 'there is nothing the matter.
'There is nothing the matter, upon my honour,' said Cousin Feenix; 'and I am deeply distressed at being the means of causing you a moment's uneasiness. I beg to assure you that there is nothing the matter. The favour that I have to ask is, simply - but it really does seem so exceedingly singular, that I should be in the last degree obliged to my friend Gay if he would have the goodness to break the - in point of fact, the ice,' said Cousin Feenix.
Walter thus appealed to, and appealed to no less in the look that Florence turned towards him, said:
'My dearest, it is no more than this. That you will ride to London with this gentleman, whom you know.
'And my friend Gay, also - I beg your pardon!' interrupted Cousin Feenix.
And with me - and make a visit somewhere.'
'To whom?' asked Florence, looking from one to the other.
'If I might entreat,' said Cousin Feenix, 'that you would not press for an answer to that question, I would venture to take the liberty of making the request.'
'Do you know, Walter?'
'Yes.'
'And think it right?'
'Yes. Only because I am sure that you would too. Though there may be reasons I very well understand, which make it better that nothing more should be said beforehand.'
'If Papa is still asleep, or can spare me if he is awake, I will go immediately,' said Florence. And rising quietly, and glancing at them with a look that was a little alarmed but perfectly confiding, left the room.
When she came back, ready to bear them company, they were talking together, gravely, at the window; and Florence could not but wonder what the topic was, that had made them so well acquainted in so short a time. She did not wonder at the look of pride and love with which her husband broke off as she entered; for she never saw him, but that rested on her.
'I will leave,' said Cousin Feenix, 'a card for my friend Dombey, sincerely trusting that he will pick up health and strength with every returning hour. And I hope my friend Dombey will do me the favour to consider me a man who has a devilish warm admiration of his character, as, in point of fact, a British merchant and a devilish upright gentleman. My place in the country is in a most confounded state of dilapidation, but if my friend Dombey should require a change of air, and would take up his quarters there, he would find it a remarkably healthy spot - as it need be, for it's amazingly dull. If my friend Dombey suffers from bodily weakness, and would allow me to recommend what has frequently done myself good, as a man who has been extremely queer at times, and who lived pretty freely in the days when men lived very freely, I should say, let it be in point of fact the yolk of an egg, beat up with sugar and nutmeg, in a glass of sherry, and taken in the morning with a slice of dry toast. Jackson, who kept the boxing-rooms in Bond Street - man of very superior qualifications, with whose reputation my friend Gay is no doubt acquainted - used to mention that in training for the ring they substituted rum for sherry. I should recommend sherry in this case, on account of my friend Dombey being in an invalided condition; which might occasion rum to fly - in point of fact to his head - and throw him into a devil of a state.'
Of all this, Cousin Feenix delivered himself with an obviously nervous and discomposed air. Then, giving his arm to Florence, and putting the strongest possible constraint upon his wilful legs, which seemed determined to go out into the garden, he led her to the door, and handed her into a carriage that was ready for her reception.
Walter entered after him, and they drove away.
Their ride was six or eight miles long. When they drove through certain dull and stately streets, lying westward in London, it was growing dusk. Florence had, by this time, put her hand in Walter's; and was looking very earnestly, and with increasing agitation, into every new street into which they turned.
When the carriage stopped, at last, before that house in Brook Street, where her father's unhappy marriage had been celebrated, Florence said, 'Walter, what is this? Who is here?' Walter cheering her, and not replying, she glanced up at the house-front, and saw that all the windows were shut, as if it were uninhabited. Cousin Feenix had by this time alighted, and was offering his hand.
'Are you not coming, Walter?'
'No, I will remain here. Don't tremble there is nothing to fear, dearest Florence.'
'I know that, Walter, with you so near. I am sure of that, but - '
The door was softly opened, without any knock, and Cousin Feenix led her out of the summer evening air into the close dull house. More sombre and brown than ever, it seemed to have been shut up from the wedding-day, and to have hoarded darkness and sadness ever since.
Florence ascended the dusky staircase, trembling; and stopped, with her conductor, at the drawing-room door. He opened it, without speaking, and signed an entreaty to her to advance into the inner room, while he remained there. Florence, after hesitating an instant, complied.
Sitting by the window at a table, where she seemed to have been writing or drawing, was a lady, whose head, turned away towards the dying light, was resting on her hand. Florence advancing, doubtfully, all at once stood still, as if she had lost the power of motion. The lady turned her head.
'Great Heaven!' she said, 'what is this?'
'No, no!' cried Florence, shrinking back as she rose up and putting out her hands to keep her off. 'Mama!'
They stood looking at each other. Passion and pride had worn it, but it was the face of Edith, and beautiful and stately yet. It was the face of Florence, and through all the terrified avoidance it expressed, there was pity in it, sorrow, a grateful tender memory. On each face, wonder and fear were painted vividly; each so still and silent, looking at the other over the black gulf of the irrevocable past.
Florence was the first to change. Bursting into tears, she said from her full heart, 'Oh, Mama, Mama! why do we meet like this? Why were you ever kind to me when there was no one else, that we should meet like this?'
Edith stood before her, dumb and motionless. Her eyes were fixed upon her face.
'I dare not think of that,' said Florence, 'I am come from Papa's sick bed. We are never asunder now; we never shall be' any more. If you would have me ask his pardon, I will do it, Mama. I am almost sure he will grant it now, if I ask him. May Heaven grant it to you, too, and comfort you!'
She answered not a word.
'Walter - I am married to him, and we have a son,' said Florence, timidly - 'is at the door, and has brought me here. I will tell him that you are repentant; that you are changed,' said Florence, looking mournfully upon her; 'and he will speak to Papa with me, I know. Is there anything but this that I can do?'
Edith, breaking her silence, without moving eye or limb, answered slowly:
'The stain upon your name, upon your husband's, on your child's. Will that ever be forgiven, Florence?'
'Will it ever be, Mama? It is! Freely, freely, both by Walter and by me. If that is any consolation to you, there is nothing that you may believe more certainly. You do not - you do not,' faltered Florence, 'speak of Papa; but I am sure you wish that I should ask him for his forgiveness. I am sure you do.'
She answered not a word.
'I will!' said Florence. 'I will bring it you, if you will let me; and then, perhaps, we may take leave of each other, more like what we used to be to one another. I have not,' said Florence very gently, and drawing nearer to her, 'I have not shrunk back from you, Mama, because I fear you, or because I dread to be disgraced by you. I only wish to do my duty to Papa. I am very dear to him, and he is very dear to me. But I never can forget that you were very good to me. Oh, pray to Heaven,' cried Florence, falling on her bosom, 'pray to Heaven, Mama, to forgive you all this sin and shame, and to forgive me if I cannot help doing this (if it is wrong), when I remember what you used to be!'
Edith, as if she fell beneath her touch, sunk down on her knees, and caught her round the neck.
'Florence!' she cried. 'My better angel! Before I am mad again, before my stubbornness comes back and strikes me dumb, believe me, upon my soul I am innocent!'
'Mama!'
'Guilty of much! Guilty of that which sets a waste between us evermore. Guilty of what must separate me, through the whole remainder of my life, from purity and innocence - from you, of all the earth. Guilty of a blind and passionate resentment, of which I do not, cannot, will not, even now, repent; but not guilty with that dead man. Before God!'
Upon her knees upon the ground, she held up both her hands, and swore it.
'Florence!' she said, 'purest and best of natures, - whom I love - who might have changed me long ago, and did for a time work some change even in the woman that I am, - believe me, I am innocent of that; and once more, on my desolate heart, let me lay this dear head, for the last time!'
She was moved and weeping. Had she been oftener thus in older days, she had been happier now.
'There is nothing else in all the world,' she said, 'that would have wrung denial from me. No love, no hatred, no hope, no threat. I said that I would die, and make no sign. I could have done so, and I would, if we had never met, Florence.
'I trust,' said Cousin Feenix, ambling in at the door, and speaking, half in the room, and half out of it, 'that my lovely and accomplished relative will excuse my having, by a little stratagem, effected this meeting. I cannot say that I was, at first, wholly incredulous as to the possibility of my lovely and accomplished relative having, very unfortunately, committed herself with the deceased person with white teeth; because in point of fact, one does see, in this world - which is remarkable for devilish strange arrangements, and for being decidedly the most unintelligible thing within a man's experience - very odd conjunctions of that sort. But as I mentioned to my friend Dombey, I could not admit the criminality of my lovely and accomplished relative until it was perfectly established. And feeling, when the deceased person was, in point of fact, destroyed in a devilish horrible manner, that her position was a very painful one - and feeling besides that our family had been a little to blame in not paying more attention to her, and that we are a careless family - and also that my aunt, though a devilish lively woman, had perhaps not been the very best of mothers - I took the liberty of seeking her in France, and offering her such protection as a man very much out at elbows could offer. Upon which occasion, my lovely and accomplished relative did me the honour to express that she believed I was, in my way, a devilish good sort of fellow; and that therefore she put herself under my protection. Which in point of fact I understood to be a kind thing on the part of my lovely and accomplished relative, as I am getting extremely shaky, and have derived great comfort from her solicitude.'
Edith, who had taken Florence to a sofa, made a gesture with her hand as if she would have begged him to say no more.
'My lovely and accomplished relative,' resumed Cousin Feenix, still ambling about at the door, 'will excuse me, if, for her satisfaction, and my own, and that of my friend Dombey, whose lovely and accomplished daughter we so much admire, I complete the thread of my observations. She will remember that, from the first, she and I never alluded to the subject of her elopement. My impression, certainly, has always been, that there was a mystery in the affair which she could explain if so inclined. But my lovely and accomplished relative being a devilish resolute woman, I knew that she was not, in point of fact, to be trifled with, and therefore did not involve myself in any discussions. But, observing lately, that her accessible point did appear to be a very strong description of tenderness for the daughter of my friend Dombey, it occurred to me that if I could bring about a meeting, unexpected on both sides, it might lead to beneficial results. Therefore, we being in London, in the present private way, before going to the South of Italy, there to establish ourselves, in point of fact, until we go to our long homes, which is a devilish disagreeable reflection for a man, I applied myself to the discovery of the residence of my friend Gay - handsome man of an uncommonly frank disposition, who is probably known to my lovely and accomplished relative - and had the happiness of bringing his amiable wife to the present place. And now,' said Cousin Feenix, with a real and genuine earnestness shining through the levity of his manner and his slipshod speech, 'I do conjure my relative, not to stop half way, but to set right, as far as she can, whatever she has done wrong - not for the honour of her family, not for her own fame, not for any of those considerations which unfortunate circumstances have induced her to regard as hollow, and in point of fact, as approaching to humbug - but because it is wrong, and not right.'
Cousin Feenix's legs consented to take him away after this; and leaving them alone together, he shut the door.
Edith remained silent for some minutes, with Florence sitting close beside her. Then she took from her bosom a sealed paper.
'I debated with myself a long time,' she said in a low voice, 'whether to write this at all, in case of dying suddenly or by accident, and feeling the want of it upon me. I have deliberated, ever since, when and how to destroy it. Take it, Florence. The truth is written in it.'
'Is it for Papa?' asked Florence.
'It is for whom you will,' she answered. 'It is given to you, and is obtained by you. He never could have had it otherwise.'
Again they sat silent, in the deepening darkness.
'Mama,' said Florence, 'he has lost his fortune; he has been at the point of death; he may not recover, even now. Is there any word that I shall say to him from you?'
'Did you tell me,' asked Edith, 'that you were very dear to him?'
'Yes!' said Florence, in a thrilling voice.
'Tell him I am sorry that we ever met.
'No more?' said Florence after a pause.
'Tell him, if he asks, that I do not repent of what I have done - not yet - for if it were to do again to-morrow, I should do it. But if he is a changed man - '
She stopped. There was something in the silent touch of Florence's hand that stopped her.
'But that being a changed man, he knows, now, it would never be. Tell him I wish it never had been.'
'May I say,' said Florence, 'that you grieved to hear of the afflictions he has suffered?'
'Not,' she replied, 'if they have taught him that his daughter is very dear to him. He will not grieve for them himself, one day, if they have brought that lesson, Florence.'
'You wish well to him, and would have him happy. I am sure you would!' said Florence. 'Oh! let me be able, if I have the occasion at some future time, to say so?'
Edith sat with her dark eyes gazing steadfastly before her, and did not reply until Florence had repeated her entreaty; when she drew her hand within her arm, and said, with the same thoughtful gaze upon the night outside:
'Tell him that if, in his own present, he can find any reason to compassionate my past, I sent word that I asked him to do so. Tell him that if, in his own present, he can find a reason to think less bitterly of me, I asked him to do so. Tell him, that, dead as we are to one another, never more to meet on this side of eternity, he knows there is one feeling in common between us now, that there never was before.'
Her sternness seemed to yield, and there were tears in her dark eyes.
'I trust myself to that,' she said, 'for his better thoughts of me, and mine of him. When he loves his Florence most, he will hate me least. When he is most proud and happy in her and her children, he will be most repentant of his own part in the dark vision of our married life. At that time, I will be repentant too - let him know it then - and think that when I thought so much of all the causes that had made me what I was, I needed to have allowed more for the causes that had made him what he was. I will try, then, to forgive him his share of blame. Let him try to forgive me mine!'
'Oh Mama!' said Florence. 'How it lightens my heart, even in such a strange meeting and parting, to hear this!'
'Strange words in my own ears,' said Edith, 'and foreign to the sound of my own voice! But even if I had been the wretched creature I have given him occasion to believe me, I think I could have said them still, hearing that you and he were very dear to one another. Let him, when you are dearest, ever feel that he is most forbearing in his thoughts of me - that I am most forbearing in my thoughts of him! Those are the last words I send him! Now, goodbye, my life!'
She clasped her in her arms, and seemed to pour out all her woman's soul of love and tenderness at once.
'This kiss for your child! These kisses for a blessing on your head! My own dear Florence, my sweet girl, farewell!'
'To meet again!' cried Florence.
'Never again! Never again! When you leave me in this dark room, think that you have left me in the grave. Remember only that I was once, and that I loved you!'
And Florence left her, seeing her face no more, but accompanied by her embraces and caresses to the last.
Cousin Feenix met her at the door, and took her down to Walter in the dingy dining room, upon whose shoulder she laid her head weeping.
'I am devilish sorry,' said Cousin Feenix, lifting his wristbands to his eyes in the simplest manner possible, and without the least concealment, 'that the lovely and accomplished daughter of my friend Dombey and amiable wife of my friend Gay, should have had her sensitive nature so very much distressed and cut up by the interview which is just concluded. But I hope and trust I have acted for the best, and that my honourable friend Dombey will find his mind relieved by the disclosures which have taken place. I exceedingly lament that my friend Dombey should have got himself, in point of fact, into the devil's own state of conglomeration by an alliance with our family; but am strongly of opinion that if it hadn't been for the infernal scoundrel Barker - man with white teeth - everything would have gone on pretty smoothly. In regard to my relative who does me the honour to have formed an uncommonly good opinion of myself, I can assure the amiable wife of my friend Gay, that she may rely on my being, in point of fact, a father to her. And in regard to the changes of human life, and the extraordinary manner in which we are perpetually conducting ourselves, all I can say is, with my friend Shakespeare - man who wasn't for an age but for all time, and with whom my friend Gay is no doubt acquainted - that its like the shadow of a dream.'
弗洛伦斯需要帮助。她的父亲特别需要帮助。她的老朋友在这时前来雪中送炭，这份情谊显得特别珍贵。死神站在他的枕边。过去的他如今只剩下一个影子。他心神破碎，躯体病危，疲乏的头躺在床上他女儿的手上（这是为他准备的），从此再也没有抬起来过。
她经常跟他在一起。他通常是认识她的；但在神志昏迷的时候，他常常弄不清他跟她讲话时的周围环境，而跟别的情况混淆起来。因此他有时跟她谈话的口气就仿佛他的儿子刚去世不久；他会跟她说，他曾看到她在小床边侍候——虽然他过去一句话也没有谈过这一点，但这个情况他是看到过的——；然后他会把脸掩藏在枕头里，抽泣起来，并伸出他消瘦的手。有时他会问她，“弗洛伦斯在哪里？”“我在这里，爸爸，我在这里。”“我不认识她！”他会这样喊道。“我们分离得这么久，我不认识她了！”那时他的眼睛就一动不动地瞪着，恐怖就会笼罩在他身上，直到她能安慰他，使他慌乱的心平静下来为止；这时候她忍着不让自己的眼泪流出，而在别的时候她却费很大劲才能使这些眼泪不流。
有时他好几个小时说着梦话，说到他过去经营商业的一些情景；弗洛伦斯听他说的时候许多地方都听不明白。他会重复那个孩子的问题，“钱是什么？”然后沉思着，考虑着，并多少相互连贯地自己跟自己议论着，以求得一个最好的答复，仿佛在这时之前，这个问题从来不曾向他提出来过似的。他会两万次沉思默想地、继续不断地重复他过去公司的名称，每说到一次都会把头转向枕头。他会计算他孩子的数目——一——二——停住，然后回去，用同样的方式重新开始。
但这是当他的精神处于最错乱时的情形。在他生病的其他时候，也是比较经常的时候，他常常想到弗洛伦斯。他最时常会做的是这样一些事情：他会想起最近记忆起来的那个夜间，那个她曾经走到楼下他的房间里的那个夜间，他会想象他的心里非常痛苦，而且他还跑出去追她，并上楼去找她。然后他把那个时候跟后来看到许多脚印的日子混淆起来了；他对脚印的数量感到吃惊，当他跟在她后面的时候，他会开始数它们。突然，在其他脚印中间，出现了一只带血的脚印，一直向前走着。然后，他开始看到在隔一定时间就看到的敞开着的门；往门里看，他可以在镜子中看见形容枯槁的人的可怕的映像，这人把什么东西掩藏在胸中。在许多脚印和带血的脚印中间，这里那里一直都有弗洛伦斯的脚印；她依旧在前面走。他依旧怀着一颗烦乱不宁的心，在后面跟随着，数着，一直向前走，一直往更高的地方爬，一直爬到一座宏伟的塔的尖顶上，那是需要好多年才能攀登上的。
有一天他问，好久以前跟他讲话的是不是苏珊。
弗洛伦斯回答道，“是的，亲爱的爸爸，”然后问他，他是不是想见她？
他说，“很想见”。于是苏珊全身不是没有哆嗦地走到他的床边。
这对他似乎是极大的安慰。他恳求她别走；他已原谅了她过去所说过的话，要她留下来；他说，现在弗洛伦斯跟他和过去已完全不同了，他们很幸福。让她来看看这！他把那个温柔的头拉到他的枕头上，让它躺在他的旁边。
他好几天、好几个星期一直处于这样的状态。终于有一天他开始平静下来了，他——一个虚弱无力的、只有几分像人的人——躺在床上，说话的很低，只有挨近他的嘴唇才能听得到。现在，他躺在那里，通过打开的窗子，向外看到夏日的天空和树木，傍晚还看到日落，心中感到一种说不清的�

Chapter 62 Final A bottle that has been long excluded from the light of day, and is hoary with dust and cobwebs, has been brought into the sunshine; and the golden wine within it sheds a lustre on the table. It is the last bottle of the old Madiera. 'You are quite right, Mr Gills,' says Mr Dombey. 'This is a very rare and most delicious wine.' The Captain, who is of the party, beams with joy. There is a very halo of delight round his glowing forehead. 'We always promised ourselves, Sir,' observes Mr Gills,' Ned and myself, I mean - ' Mr Dombey nods at the Captain, who shines more and more with speechless gratification. '-that we would drink this, one day or other, to Walter safe at home: though such a home we never thought of. If you don't object to our old whim, Sir, let us devote this first glass to Walter and his wife.' 'To Walter and his wife!' says Mr Dombey. 'Florence, my child' - and turns to kiss her. 'To Walter and his wife!' says Mr Toots. 'To Wal'r and his wife!' exclaims the Captain. 'Hooroar!' and the Captain exhibiting a strong desire to clink his glass against some other glass, Mr Dombey, with a ready hand, holds out his. The others follow; and there is a blithe and merry ringing, as of a little peal of marriage bells. Other buried wine grows older, as the old Madeira did in its time; and dust and cobwebs thicken on the bottles. Mr Dombey is a white-haired gentleman, whose face bears heavy marks of care and suffering; but they are traces of a storm that has passed on for ever, and left a clear evening in its track. Ambitious projects trouble him no more. His only pride is in his daughter and her husband. He has a silent, thoughtful, quiet manner, and is always with his daughter. Miss Tox is not infrequently of the family party, and is quite devoted to it, and a great favourite. Her admiration of her once stately patron is, and has been ever since the morning of her shock in Princess's Place, platonic, but not weakened in the least. Nothing has drifted to him from the wreck of his fortunes, but a certain annual sum that comes he knows not how, with an earnest entreaty that he will not seek to discover, and with the assurance that it is a debt, and an act of reparation. He has consulted with his old clerk about this, who is clear it may be honourably accepted, and has no doubt it arises out of some forgotten transaction in the times of the old House. That hazel-eyed bachelor, a bachelor no more, is married now, and to the sister of the grey-haired Junior. He visits his old chief sometimes, but seldom. There is a reason in the greyhaired Junior's history, and yet a stronger reason in his name, why he should keep retired from his old employer; and as he lives with his sister and her husband, they participate in that retirement. Walter sees them sometimes - Florence too - and the pleasant house resounds with profound duets arranged for the Piano-Forte and Violoncello, and with the labours of Harmonious Blacksmiths. And how goes the wooden Midshipman in these changed days? Why, here he still is, right leg foremost, hard at work upon the hackney coaches, and more on the alert than ever, being newly painted from his cocked hat to his buckled shoes; and up above him, in golden characters, these names shine refulgent, GILLS AND CUTTLE. Not another stroke of business does the Midshipman achieve beyond his usual easy trade. But they do say, in a circuit of some half-mile round the blue umbrella in Leadenhall Market, that some of Mr Gills's old investments are coming out wonderfully well; and that instead of being behind the time in those respects, as he supposed, he was, in truth, a little before it, and had to wait the fulness of the time and the design. The whisper is that Mr Gills's money has begun to turn itself, and that it is turning itself over and over pretty briskly. Certain it is that, standing at his shop-door, in his coffee-coloured suit, with his chronometer in his pocket, and his spectacles on his forehead, he don't appear to break his heart at customers not coming, but looks very jovial and contented, though full as misty as of yore. As to his partner, Captain Cuttle, there is a fiction of a business in the Captain's mind which is better than any reality. The Captain is as satisfied of the Midshipman's importance to the commerce and navigation of the country, as he could possibly be, if no ship left the Port of London without the Midshipman's assistance. His delight in his own name over the door, is inexhaustible. He crosses the street, twenty times a day, to look at it from the other side of the way; and invariably says, on these occasions, 'Ed'ard Cuttle, my lad, if your mother could ha' know'd as you would ever be a man o' science, the good old creetur would ha' been took aback in-deed!' But here is Mr Toots descending on the Midshipman with violent rapidity, and Mr Toots's face is very red as he bursts into the little parlour. 'Captain Gills,' says Mr Toots, 'and Mr Sols, I am happy to inform you that Mrs Toots has had an increase to her family. 'And it does her credit!' cries the Captain. 'I give you joy, Mr Toots!' says old Sol. 'Thank'ee,' chuckles Mr Toots, 'I'm very much obliged to you. I knew that you'd be glad to hear, and so I came down myself. We're positively getting on, you know. There's Florence, and Susan, and now here's another little stranger.' 'A female stranger?' inquires the Captain. 'Yes, Captain Gills,' says Mr Toots, 'and I'm glad of it. The oftener we can repeat that most extraordinary woman, my opinion is, the better!' 'Stand by!' says the Captain, turning to the old case-bottle with no throat - for it is evening, and the Midshipman's usual moderate provision of pipes and glasses is on the board. 'Here's to her, and may she have ever so many more!' 'Thank'ee, Captain Gills,' says the delighted Mr Toots. 'I echo the sentiment. If you'll allow me, as my so doing cannot be unpleasant to anybody, under the circumstances, I think I'll take a pipe.' Mr Toots begins to smoke, accordingly, and in the openness of his heart is very loquacious. 'Of all the remarkable instances that that delightful woman has given of her excellent sense, Captain Gills and Mr Sols,' said Mr Toots, 'I think none is more remarkable than the perfection with which she has understood my devotion to Miss Dombey.' Both his auditors assent. 'Because you know,' says Mr Toots, 'I have never changed my sentiments towards Miss Dombey. They are the same as ever. She is the same bright vision to me, at present, that she was before I made Walters's acquaintance. When Mrs Toots and myself first began to talk of - in short, of the tender passion, you know, Captain Gills.' 'Ay, ay, my lad,' says the Captain, 'as makes us all slue round - for which you'll overhaul the book - ' 'I shall certainly do so, Captain Gills,' says Mr Toots, with great earnestness; 'when we first began to mention such subjects, I explained that I was what you may call a Blighted Flower, you know.' The Captain approves of this figure greatly; and murmurs that no flower as blows, is like the rose. 'But Lord bless me,' pursues Mr Toots, 'she was as entirely conscious of the state of my feelings as I was myself. There was nothing I could tell her. She was the only person who could have stood between me and the silent Tomb, and she did it, in a manner to command my everlasting admiration. She knows that there's nobody in the world I look up to, as I do to Miss Dombey. Knows that there's nothing on earth I wouldn't do for Miss Dombey. She knows that I consider Miss Dombey the most beautiful, the most amiable, the most angelic of her sex. What is her observation upon that? The perfection of sense. "My dear, you're right. I think so too."' 'And so do I!' says the Captain. 'So do I,' says Sol Gills. 'Then,' resumes Mr Toots, after some contemplative pulling at his pipe, during which his visage has expressed the most contented reflection, 'what an observant woman my wife is! What sagacity she possesses! What remarks she makes! It was only last night, when we were sitting in the enjoyment of connubial bliss - which, upon my word and honour, is a feeble term to express my feelings in the society of my wife - that she said how remarkable it was to consider the present position of our friend Walters. "Here," observes my wife, "he is, released from sea-going, after that first long voyage with his young bride" - as you know he was, Mr Sols.' 'Quite true,' says the old Instrument-maker, rubbing his hands. "'Here he is," says my wife, "released from that, immediately; appointed by the same establishment to a post of great trust and confidence at home; showing himself again worthy; mounting up the ladder with the greatest expedition; beloved by everybody; assisted by his uncle at the very best possible time of his fortunes" - which I think is the case, Mr Sols? My wife is always correct.' 'Why yes, yes - some of our lost ships, freighted with gold, have come home, truly,' returns old Sol, laughing. 'Small craft, Mr Toots, but serviceable to my boy!' 'Exactly so,' says Mr Toots. 'You'll never find my wife wrong. "Here he is," says that most remarkable woman, "so situated, - and what follows? What follows?" observed Mrs Toots. Now pray remark, Captain Gills, and Mr Sols, the depth of my wife's penetration. "Why that, under the very eye of Mr Dombey, there is a foundation going on, upon which a - an Edifice;" that was Mrs Toots's word,' says Mr Toots exultingly, "'is gradually rising, perhaps to equal, perhaps excel, that of which he was once the head, and the small beginnings of which (a common fault, but a bad one, Mrs Toots said) escaped his memory. Thus," said my wife, "from his daughter, after all, another Dombey and Son will ascend" - no "rise;" that was Mrs Toots's word - "triumphant!"' Mr Toots, with the assistance of his pipe - which he is extremely glad to devote to oratorical purposes, as its proper use affects him with a very uncomfortable sensation - does such grand justice to this prophetic sentence of his wife's, that the Captain, throwing away his glazed hat in a state of the greatest excitement, cries: 'Sol Gills, you man of science and my ould pardner, what did I tell Wal'r to overhaul on that there night when he first took to business? Was it this here quotation, "Turn again Whittington, Lord Mayor of London, and when you are old you will never depart from it". Was it them words, Sol Gills?' 'It certainly was, Ned,' replied the old Instrument-maker. 'I remember well.' 'Then I tell you what,' says the Captain, leaning back in his chair, and composing his chest for a prodigious roar. 'I'll give you Lovely Peg right through; and stand by, both on you, for the chorus!' Buried wine grows older, as the old Madeira did, in its time; and dust and cobwebs thicken on the bottles. Autumn days are shining, and on the sea-beach there are often a young lady, and a white-haired gentleman. With them, or near them, are two children: boy and girl. And an old dog is generally in their company. The white-haired gentleman walks with the little boy, talks with him, helps him in his play, attends upon him, watches him as if he were the object of his life. If he be thoughtful, the white-haired gentleman is thoughtful too; and sometimes when the child is sitting by his side, and looks up in his face, asking him questions, he takes the tiny hand in his, and holding it, forgets to answer. Then the child says: 'What, grandpa! Am I so like my poor little Uncle again?' 'Yes, Paul. But he was weak, and you are very strong.' 'Oh yes, I am very strong.' 'And he lay on a little bed beside the sea, and you can run about.' And so they range away again, busily, for the white-haired gentleman likes best to see the child free and stirring; and as they go about together, the story of the bond between them goes about, and follows them. But no one, except Florence, knows the measure of the white-haired gentleman's affection for the girl. That story never goes about. The child herself almost wonders at a certain secrecy he keeps in it. He hoards her in his heart. He cannot bear to see a cloud upon her face. He cannot bear to see her sit apart. He fancies that she feels a slight, when there is none. He steals away to look at her, in her sleep. It pleases him to have her come, and wake him in the morning. He is fondest of her and most loving to her, when there is no creature by. The child says then, sometimes: 'Dear grandpapa, why do you cry when you kiss me?' He only answers, 'Little Florence! little Florence!' and smooths away the curls that shade her earnest eyes. The voices in the waves speak low to him of Florence, day and night - plainest when he, his blooming daughter, and her husband, beside them in the evening, or sit at an open window, listening to their roar. They speak to him of Florence and his altered heart; of Florence and their ceaseless murmuring to her of the love, eternal and illimitable, extending still, beyond the sea, beyond the sky, to the invisible country far away. Never from the mighty sea may voices rise too late, to come between us and the unseen region on the other shore! Better, far better, that they whispered of that region in our childish ears, and the swift river hurried us away! 那个长久不见白天的亮光、积满灰尘与蜘蛛网、并愈来愈老的瓶子，被拿到阳光下来了；瓶中金黄色的葡萄酒在桌子上放射出光辉。 这是最后一瓶马德拉陈萄葡酒。 “您完全正确，吉尔斯先生，”董贝先生说道。“这是很珍贵的、滋味极好的葡萄酒。” 参加宴会的船长眉飞色舞，笑逐颜开。在他发亮的前额上有一圈喜悦的光圈。 “我们好久以前许下心愿，先生，”吉尔斯先生说道，“我是说内德与我本人——” 董贝先生向船长点点头；船长心中默默地高兴，愈来愈容光焕发。 “我们将在沃尔特平安回到家里的时候喝这一瓶酒，虽然我们从来不曾想到他会回到这样的家里。如果您不反对我脽妄去的这个怪想的话，那么，先生，就请让我们喝这第一杯酒，为沃尔特和他的妻子祝福吧！” “为沃尔特和他的妻子干杯！”董贝先生说道。“弗洛伦斯，我的孩子——”他转过身子去吻她。 “为沃尔特和他的妻子干杯！”图茨先生说道。“为沃尔特和他的妻子干杯！”船长大声喊道。“万岁！”船长表示非常想碰杯，董贝先生就很高兴地举出他的杯子。其他的人跟着举杯，响起了一片欢乐、愉快的叮当声，好像演奏结婚乐曲似的。 藏在地窖里的其他葡萄酒，就像马德拉陈酒一样，愈来愈陈，灰尘与蜘蛛网在瓶子上积得愈来愈厚。 董贝先生是一位白发苍苍的先生，脸上深深地留下了忧虑与痛苦的痕迹，但它们是暴风雨永远过去以后所留下的，随之而来的是一个晴朗的晚上。 他不再被雄心勃勃的计划所烦扰了。他唯一引以自豪的是他的女儿与她的丈夫。他变得沉默，安静，喜爱思考，而且总是跟他的女儿在一起。托克斯小姐在家庭聚会中不是一位不常出现的人；她为它献出了全部精力，也是一位大家所喜爱的人。她对她的曾经一度高贵显赫的恩主的爱慕是柏拉图式的；从她在公主广场受到震惊的那个早上起直到现在一直是这样，但爱慕的心情一直不曾减弱。 败落的产业中没有留下任何东西，但是每年总有一笔钱汇寄到他那里（不知是谁汇来的），而且还恳切地请求他别去寻根究底，把汇款者查找出来，同时向他保证，这是一笔偿还的债款。他跟他往日的职员商量过这件事；这位职员明确地认为可以正大光明地收下这笔钱，而且毫不怀疑，这是从过去公司经营业务时现已遗忘了的一笔交易中发生的。 这位眼睛淡褐色的单身汉已不再是单身汉；他现在已经跟头发斑白的低级职员卡克的姐姐结婚了。他有时去看望他过去的老板。但次数很少。他之所以不常去看望，头发斑白的低级职员卡克的历史是一个原因，他的姓是一个更大的原因；低级职员卡克和他的姐姐与姐夫住在一起，所以他们就一起不常去看望他过去的老板了。沃尔特有时去看他们——弗洛伦斯也一起去——；舒适的住宅中传出了钢琴与大提琴的意味深长的二重奏，有时奏出了《和睦的铁匠》这支曲子。 在发生这些变化以后的日子里，木制海军军官候补生的情况怎么样了呢？唔，他仍旧在那里，伸出右腿，密切监视着出租马车；从三角帽到扣紧的鞋，已被重新油漆过，所以他比过去更为警惕了；在他的头顶上方，辉煌地闪耀着用金字书写的两个名字：吉尔斯与卡特尔。 海军军官候补生除了他往常经营的熟悉的行业外，并没有另外开展什么新的业务。但是在伦敦肉类市场的蓝伞周围半英里左右的范围内，人们都说，吉尔斯先生过去的一些投资取得了很大的成功；在这些方面非但没有像他所想的落后于时代，而且事实上还稍稍跑在时代的前面，需要等待时间和设计发生变化。人们还在传说，吉尔斯先生的资金开始周转，而且还周转得相当快；确实无疑的是，他穿着咖啡色的衣服，衣袋里装着精密计时表，前额上架着眼镜，站在店铺门口；虽然眼睛仍像过去一样模糊多泪，但却没有为顾客不来而伤心发愁，而是露出愉快与满意的神色。 至于他的合伙人卡特尔船长，船长在头脑中对他们的业务的看法比任何实际情况都要好。如果没有海军军官候补生的帮助的话，那么就没有一条船能从伦敦港口开出去，因此船长对海军军官候补生对这个国家的商业和航海的重要性感到极为自豪。他对门上有他本人的名字感到无穷无尽的高兴；他一天之内在街上走来走去二十次，为的是从街道对过看看它；这时候他常常会说道，“爱德华•卡特尔，我的孩子，如果你的母亲知道你有一天能成为科学界的人物的话，那么这位善良的老太婆该会多么大吃一惊啊！” 可是这时图茨先生急如星火地突然前来访问海军军官候补生；当他突然出现在小客厅里的时候，他的脸很红。 “吉尔斯船长和所尔斯先生，”图茨先生说道，“我很高兴向你们报告，图茨夫人已经给她家里增添了一口人了。” “这为她增添光彩！”船长喊道。 “我祝贺您！”老所尔说道。 “谢谢，”图茨先生吃吃地笑道，“我非常感谢你们。我知道你们听到这个消息会很高兴，所以我亲自到这里来了。你们知道，我们的情况真是十分顺利的。跟我们一起的有弗洛伦斯、苏珊，现在又增加了一个新人。” “是个女的新人吗？”船长问道。 “是的，吉尔斯船长，”图茨先生说道，“这使我感到很高兴。我们说她是位了不起的女人，说的次数愈多我看就愈好。” “做好准备！”船长拿起一个没有瓶颈的方瓶——因为这时是在晚上，海军军官候补生通常供应数量适当的烟斗和玻璃杯，这时都已放在餐桌上了。“为她干杯，祝她再多生几个！” “谢谢您，吉尔斯船长，”兴高采烈的图茨先生说道，“我也为她干杯。如果您允许的话，那么我想抽一斗烟，因为我想在目前的情况下，这不会使任何人不高兴的。” 于是图茨先生就开始抽烟，并且在坦率的心情下，滔滔不绝地说起来。 “吉尔斯船长和所尔斯先生，”图茨先生说道，“这位可爱的女人多次显示她的智慧，这方面出色的事例很多；我想最了不起的是，她完全谅解我对董贝小姐的忠诚。” 他的两位听众都表示同意。 “因为你们知道，”图茨先生说道，“我从来没有改变对董贝小姐的感情。我对她的感情跟过去一样。她在我眼中的光辉形象现在就跟我认识沃尔特斯之前一样。当图茨夫人跟我第一次开始谈到——总之，在谈到男女私情的时候，您知道，吉尔斯船长。” “是的，是的，我的孩子，”船长说道，“就是把我们玩弄得团团转的感情——，这您可以去查一查书——” “我一定会去查的，吉尔斯船长，”图茨先生十分认真地说道，“当我们第一次谈到这个问题的时候，我解释说，您知道，我是一朵您可以称为枯萎的花。” 船长十分同意这个比喻，低声说，没有什么花能比玫瑰花更好的了。 “但是上帝保佑我，”图茨先生继续说道，“她对我的感情状况就跟我自己一样完全清楚，没有什么我能告诉她的。她是唯一能站在我和沉默的坟墓之间的一个人。她以很好的方式来处理我永远保持着的这种爱慕的感情。她知道，世界上没有一个人能像董贝小姐那样使我仰慕的；她知道，世界上没有一件事我不能为董贝小姐做的。她知道，我认为董贝小姐是她们女性中最美丽、最和蔼可亲、最像天使的一位。她对这是怎么说的呢？真是聪明极了！‘我亲爱的，你是对的，我也这样想。’” “我也这样想！”船长说道。 “我也这样想！”所尔•吉尔斯说道。 “而且，”图茨先生脸上露出极为满意的神色，沉思地、缓慢地抽着烟，然后继续说道，“我的妻子是一位多么善于观察的人！她有多么大的智慧！她的意见多么中肯！就在昨天夜里，我们坐在那里享受婚姻的幸福——说实话，以我的荣誉发誓，这个词不能有力地表达我跟妻子在一起时心中的感情——这时候她说，想想我们的朋友沃尔特斯现在的情况是多么有意思啊。‘在跟他年轻的新娘经过第一次漫长的航行之后，’我的妻子说，‘现在他已经不用再去漂洋过海了。’您知道，所尔斯先生，他现在已经不用去了。” “完全不错，”年老的仪器制造商搓搓手，说道。 “‘现在，’我的妻子说，‘他已立刻不用再去航海了；同一个公司任命他担任国内一个很受信任的重要职务；他又显示出他卓越的才能，并沿着阶梯迅速地上升；人人都喜欢他；在他生命中最幸运的时候他还得到他舅舅的帮助。’我想这是实际情况吧，所尔斯先生，我的妻子总是正确的。” “啊是的，是的——我们有几条装载黄金、下落不明的船现在已真正开回来了，”老所尔哈哈大笑地回答道，“船是小的，图茨先生，但对我的孩子是有用的！” “确实是这样，”图茨先生说道。“您决不会发现我的妻子会说错的。‘现在他担任这样重要的职务，’这位极了不起的女人说，‘以后会怎样呢？以后会怎样呢？’图茨夫人说。现在，吉尔斯船长，所尔斯先生，请你们注意我妻子的深刻的洞察力吧。‘啊要知道，就在董贝先生的眼前，现在正在打下一个基础，在这个基础上正逐渐耸立起一座大——大厦，’这就是图茨夫人的话，”图茨先生兴高采烈地说道，“它也许跟他曾经当过老板的那一座相等，也许还超过它。他现在已经记不得原先那座大厦最初简朴矮小的情形了——图茨夫人说，这是个常见的，但却是个很坏的缺点——，因此，”我的妻子说，‘由于他的女儿的缘故，另一个董贝父子公司终究将会得意扬扬地——不是‘兴起’，那是图茨夫人的话——而是蓬勃发展’。” 图茨先生在他的烟斗的帮助下（他特别喜欢用烟斗来达到他发表长篇大论的目的，因为死死板板地抽它反倒会引起他不舒适的感觉），十分有力地、正确地表达了他的妻子的预言性的话语，因此船长极为兴奋地把他那顶上了光的帽子抛开，喊道： “所尔•吉尔斯，你这位研究科学的人，我的老合伙人，沃尔特第一次去上班的那天夜里，我告诉他到书上去查找什么话，是不是这句：‘回去吧，惠廷顿，伦敦市长！当您老了的时候，您将永远不再离开它了！’我是不是说过这些话，所尔•吉尔斯？” “确实是的，内德，”年老的仪器制造商回答道，“我记得很清楚。” “然后我跟你说，”船长仰靠在椅背上，让胸脯平静下来，准备发出震耳欲聋的吼声。“我将从头到尾、一字不漏地给你们唱《可爱的佩格姑娘》；请你们两人准备好来参加合唱！” 藏在地窖里的葡萄酒就像马德拉陈酒一样，愈来愈陈，灰尘和蜘蛛网在瓶上积得愈来愈厚。 秋天的日子阳光灿烂，在海滨时常有一位年轻的夫人和一位白发苍苍的先生。跟他们一起的，或挨近他们身边的是两个孩子：一个男孩子，一个女孩子。一条老狗经常跟随着他们。 那位白发苍苍的先生跟那位小男孩一起散步，跟他谈话，帮助他做游戏，照顾他，看守着他，仿佛这是他的生活目的似的。如果这个孩子沉思的话，那么这位白发苍苍的先生也沉思；有时当这个孩子坐在他身旁，仰望着他的脸，向他问问题的时候，他把他的小手拉到他的手中，握着它，忘记回答；这时候这个孩子就会说： “怎么了，老爷！我是不是又像我可爱的小舅舅了？” “是的，保罗。但是他身体虚弱，而你却很健壮。” “啊是的，我很健壮。” “他在海边躺在一张小床上，而你却能跑来跑去。” 这样他们又继续忙忙碌碌地到别的地方去游逛，因为这位白发苍苍的先生最喜欢看到这孩子自由，活跃；当他们在一起走着的时候，有关他们之间的关系的传说就到处散播开来，并跟随着他们。 可是除了弗洛伦斯之外，没有一个人知道这位白发苍苍的先生对这个女孩子所怀的感情有多深。从来不曾有过这方面的流言。女孩子自己几乎也对他保守着的什么秘密感到奇怪。他把她怀抱在胸间。看到她脸上有一丝愁云他都不能忍受。看到她独自一人坐着他也不能忍受。他错觉地以为她觉得自己被冷落了，其实情况并不是这样。在她睡觉的时候，他悄悄地走去看她。早上她走来喊醒他，他感到高兴。当他们两人单独在一起的时候，他特别喜爱她，她也特别喜爱他；这时候，女孩子就会问： “亲爱的老爷，你吻我的时候为什么哭？” 他只是回答道，“小弗洛伦斯！小弗洛伦斯！”同时把遮到她真挚的眼睛上的卷发抚平。