Dombey and Son
that never, never, had it rested so before.
“You will come home with me, Papa, and see my baby. A boy, Papa. His
name is Paul. I think—I hope—he’s like—”
Her tears stopped her.
“Dear Papa, for the sake of my child, for the sake of the name we have
given him, for my sake, pardon Walter. He is so kind and tender to me.
I am so happy with him. It was not his fault that we were married. It
was mine. I loved him so much.”
She clung closer to him, more endearing and more earnest.
“He is the darling of my heart, Papa I would die for him. He will love
and honour you as I will. We will teach our little child to love and
honour you; and we will tell him, when he can understand, that you had
a son of that name once, and that he died, and you were very sorry; but
that he is gone to Heaven, where we all hope to see him when our time
for resting comes. Kiss me, Papa, as a promise that you will be
reconciled to Walter—to my dearest husband—to the father of the little
child who taught me to come back, Papa Who taught me to come back!”
As she clung closer to him, in another burst of tears, he kissed her on
her lips, and, lifting up his eyes, said, “Oh my God, forgive me, for I
need it very much!”
With that he dropped his head again, lamenting over and caressing her,
and there was not a sound in all the house for a long, long time; they
remaining clasped in one another’s arms, in the glorious sunshine that
had crept in with Florence.
He dressed himself for going out, with a docile submission to her
entreaty; and walking with a feeble gait, and looking back, with a
tremble, at the room in which he had been so long shut up, and where he
had seen the picture in the glass, passed out with her into the hall.
Florence, hardly glancing round her, lest she should remind him freshly
of their last parting—for their feet were on the very stones where he
had struck her in his madness—and keeping close to him, with her eyes
upon his face, and his arm about her, led him out to a coach that was
waiting at the door, and carried him away.
Then, Miss Tox and Polly came out of their concealment, and exulted
tearfully. And then they packed his clothes, and books, and so forth,
with great care; and consigned them in due course to certain persons
sent by Florence, in the evening, to fetch them. And then they took a
last cup of tea in the lonely house.
“And so Dombey and Son, as I observed upon a certain sad occasion,”
said Miss Tox, winding up a host of recollections, “is indeed a
daughter, Polly, after all.”
“And a good one!” exclaimed Polly.
“You are right,” said Miss Tox; “and it’s a credit to you, Polly, that
you were always her friend when she was a little child. You were her
friend long before I was, Polly,” said Miss Tox; “and you’re a good
creature. Robin!”
Miss Tox addressed herself to a bullet-headed young man, who appeared
to be in but indifferent circumstances, and in depressed spirits, and
who was sitting in a remote corner. Rising, he disclosed to view the
form and features of the Grinder.
“Robin,” said Miss Tox, “I have just observed to your mother, as you
may have heard, that she is a good creature.”
“And so she is, Miss,” quoth the Grinder, with some feeling.
“Very well, Robin,” said Miss Tox, “I am glad to hear you say so. Now,
Robin, as I am going to give you a trial, at your urgent request, as my
domestic, with a view to your restoration to respectability, I will
take this impressive occasion of remarking that I hope you will never
forget that you have, and have always had, a good mother, and that you
will endeavour so to conduct yourself as to be a comfort to her.”
“Upon my soul I will, Miss,” returned the Grinder. “I have come through
a good deal, and my intentions is now as straightfor’ard, Miss, as a
cove’s—”
“I must get you to break yourself of that word, Robin, if you please,”
interposed Miss Tox, politely.
“If you please, Miss, as a chap’s—”
“Thankee, Robin, no,” returned Miss Tox, “I should prefer individual.”
“As a indiwiddle’s—,” said the Grinder.
“Much better,” remarked Miss Tox, complacently; “infinitely more
expressive!”
“—can be,” pursued Rob. “If I hadn’t been and got made a Grinder on,
Miss and Mother, which was a most unfortunate circumstance for a young
co—indiwiddle—”
“Very good indeed,” observed Miss Tox, approvingly.
“—and if I hadn’t been led away by birds, and then fallen into a bad
service,” said the Grinder, “I hope I might have done better. But it’s
never too late for a—”
“Indi—” suggested Miss Tox.
“—widdle,” said the Grinder, “to mend; and I hope to mend, Miss, with
your kind trial; and wishing, Mother, my love to father, and brothers
and sisters, and saying of it.”
“I am very glad indeed to hear it,” observed Miss Tox. “Will you take a
little bread and butter, and a cup of tea, before we go, Robin?”
“Thankee, Miss,” returned the Grinder; who immediately began to use his
own personal grinders in a most remarkable manner, as if he had been on
very short allowance for a considerable period.
Miss Tox, being, in good time, bonneted and shawled, and Polly too, Rob
hugged his mother, and followed his new mistress away; so much to the
hopeful admiration of Polly, that something in her eyes made luminous
rings round the gas-lamps as she looked after him. Polly then put out
her light, locked the house-door, delivered the key at an agent’s hard
by, and went home as fast as she could go; rejoicing in the shrill
delight that her unexpected arrival would occasion there. The great
house, dumb as to all that had been suffered in it, and the changes it
had witnessed, stood frowning like a dark mute on the street; baulking
any nearer inquiries with the staring announcement that the lease of
this desirable Family Mansion was to be disposed of.
CHAPTER LX.
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.