PAUL'S VARIOUS THOUGHTS. 85 "Oh! he is greatly better, sir," returned the Apoth- | less little feet went up the stairs to his own room, ecary. Paul had begun to speculate, in his own odd way, on the subject that might occupy the Apothecary's mind just at that moment; so musingly had he answered the two questions of Dr. Blimber. But the Apothecary happening to meet his little patient's eyes as the latter set off on that mental expedition, and coming instantly out of his abstraction with a cheerful smile, Paul smiled in return, and abandoned it. He lay in bed all that day, dozing and dreaming, and looking at Mr. Toots; but got up on the next, and went down stairs. Lo and behold, there was something the matter with the great clock; and a workman on a pair of steps had taken its face off, and was poking instruments into the works by the light of a candle! This was a great event for Paul, who sat down on the bottom stair, and watched the operation attentively: now and then glancing at the clock face, leaning all askew against the wall hard by, and feeling a little confused by a suspicion that it was ogling him. The workman on the steps was very civil; and as he said, when he observed Paul, "How do you do, sir?" Paul got into conversation with him, and told him he hadn't been quite well lately. The ice being thus broken, Paul asked him a multitude of questions about chimes and clocks; as, whether people watched up in the lonely church-steeples by night to make them strike, and how the bells were rung when people died, and whether those were different bells from wedding-bells, or only sounded dismal in the fancies of the living. Finding that his new acquaintance was not very well informed on the subject of the Curfew Bell of ancient days, Paul gave him an account of that institution; and also asked him, as a practical' man, what he thought about King Alfred's idea of measuring time by the burning of candles; to which the workman replied, that he thought it would be the ruin of the clock trade if it was to come up again. In fine, Paul looked on until the clock had quite recovered its familiar aspect, and resumed its sedate inquiry: when the workman, putting away his tools in a long basket, bade him good-day, and went away. Though not before he had whispered something on the door-mat to the footman, in which there was the phrase "oldfashioned"-for Paul heard it. What could that old fashion be, that seemed to make the people sorry! What could it be ! Having nothing to learn now, he thought of this frequently; though not so often as he might have done if he had had fewer things to think of. But he had a great many; and was always thinking, all day long. First, there was Florence coming to the party. Florence would see that the boys were fond of him, and that would make her happy. This was his great theme. Let Florence once be sure that they were gentle and good to him, and that he had become a little favorite among them, and then she would always think of the time he had passed there without being very sorry. Florence might be all the happier too for that, perhaps, when he came back. When he came back! Fifty times a day his noise as he collected every book and scrap and trifle that belonged to him, and put them all together there, down to the minutest thing, for taking home! There was no shade of coming back on little Paul; no preparation for it, or other reference to it, grew out of any thing he thought or did, except this slight one in connection with his sister. On the contrary, he had to think of every thing familiar to him, in his contemplative moods and in his wanderings about the house, as being to be parted with; and hence the many things he had to think of all day long. He had to peep into those rooms up stairs, and think how solitary they would be when he was gone, and wonder through how many silent days, weeks, months, and years, they would continue just as grave and undisturbed. He had to think-would any other child (old-fashioned, like himself) stray there at any time, to whom the same grotesque distortions of pattern and furniture would manifest themselves; and would any body tell that boy of little Dombey, who had been there once. He had to think of a portrait on the stairs, which always looked earnestly after him as he went away, eying it over his shoulder: and which, when he passed it in the company of any one, still seemed to gaze at him, and not at his companion. He had much to think of in association with a print that hung up in another place, where, in the centre of a wondering group, one figure that he knew, a figure with a light about its head — benignant, mild, and mercifulstood pointing upward. At his own bedroom window there were crowds of thoughts that mixed with these, and came on, one upon another, like the rolling waves. Where those wild birds lived that were always hovering out at sea in troubled weather; where the clouds rose and first began; whence the wind issued on its rushing flight, and where it stopped; whether the spot where he and Florence had so often sat, and watched, and talked about these things, could ever be exactly as it used to be without them; whether it could ever be the same to Florence, if he were in some distant place, and she were sitting there alone. He had to think, too, of Mr. Toots, and Mr. Feeder, B.A.; of all the boys; and of Dr. Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Blimber; of home, and of his aunt and Miss Tox; of his father, Dombey and Son, Walter, with the poor old uncle who had got the money he wanted, and that gruff-voiced Captain with the iron hand. Besides all this, he had a number of little visits to pay in the course of the day; to the school-room, to Dr. Blimber's study, to Mrs. Blimber's private apartment, to Miss Blimber's, and to the dog. For he was free of the whole house now, to range it as he chose; and, in his desire to part with every body on affectionate terms, he attended, in his way, to them all. Sometimes he found places in books for Briggs, who was always losing them; sometimes he looked up words in dictionaries for other young gentlemen who were in extremity; sometimes he held skeins of silk for Mrs. Blimber to wind; sometimes he put Cornelia's desk to rights; sometimes he would even creep into the Doctor's study, and, sitting on the carpet near his learned feet, turn the globes softly, and go round the world, or take a flight among the far-off stars. In those days immediately before the holidays, in short, when the other young gentlemen were laboring for dear life through a general resumption of the studies of the whole half-year, Paul was such a privileged pupil as had never been seen in that house before. He could hardly believe it himself; but his liberty lasted from hour to hour, and from day to day; and little Dombey was caressed by every one. Doctor Blimber was so particular about him, that he requested Johnson to retire from the dinner-table, one day, for having thoughtlessly spoken to him as "poor little Dombey;" which Paul thought rather hard and severe, though he had flushed at the moment, and wondered why Johnson should pity him. It was the more questionable justice, Paul thought, in the Doctor, from his having certainly overheard that great authority give his assent on the previous evening to the proposition (stated by Mrs. Blimber) that poor dear little Dombey was more old-fashioned than ever. And now it was that Paul began to think it must surely be old-fashioned to be very thin, and light, and easily tired, and soon disposed to lie down anywhere and rest; for he couldn't help feeling that these were more and more his habits every day. At last the party-day arrived; and Doctor Blimber said at breakfast, "Gentlemen, we will resume our studies on the twenty-fifth of next month." Mr. Toots immediately threw off his allegiance, and put on his ring and mentioning the Doctor in casual conversation shortly afterward, spoke of him as "Blimber!" This act of freedom inspired the older pupils with admiration and envy; but the younger spirits were appalled, and seemed to marvel that no beam fell down and crushed him. Not the least allusion was made to the ceremonies of the evening, either at breakfast or at dinner; but there was a bustle in the house all day, and in the course of his perambulations Paul made acquaintance with various strange benches and candlesticks, and met a harp in a green great-coat standing on the landing outside the drawing-room door. There was something queer, too, about Mrs. Blimber's head at dinner-time, as if she had screwed her hair up too tight; and though Miss Blimber showed a graceful bunch of plaited hair on each temple, she seemed to have her own little curls in paper underneath, and in a play-bill too; for Paul read "Theatre Royal" | over one of her sparkling spectacles, and "Brighton" over the other. There was a grand array of white waistcoats and cravats in the young gentlemen's bedrooms as evening approached; and such a smell of singed hair, that Doctor Blimber sent up the footman with his compliments, and wished to know if the house was on fire. But it was only the hair-dresser curling the young gentlemen, and overheating his tongs in the ardor of business. When Paul was dressed-which was very soon done, for he felt unwell and drowsy, and was not able to stand about it very long-he went down into the drawing-room; where he found Doctor Blimber pacing up and down the room full dressed, but with a dignified and unconcerned demeanor, as | if he thought it barely possible that one or two people might drop in by-and-by. Shortly afterward, Mrs. Blimber appeared looking lovely, Paul thought, and attired in such a number of skirts that it was quite an excursion to walk round her. Miss Blimber came down soon after her mamma; a little squeezed in appearance, but very charming. Mr. Toots and Mr. Feeder were the next arrivals. Each of these gentlemen brought his hat in his hand, as if he lived somewhere else; and when they were announced by the butler, Doctor Blimber said, “Ay, ay, ay! God bless my soul!" and seemed extremely glad to see them. Mr. Toots was one blaze of jewelry and buttons; and he felt the circumstance so strongly, that when he had shaken hands with the Doctor, and had bowed to Mrs. Blimber and Miss Blimber, he took Paul aside, and said, “What do you think of this, Dombey ?" But notwithstanding this modest confidence in himself, Mr. Toots appeared to be involved in a good deal of uncertainty whether, on the whole, it was judicious to button the bottom button of his waistcoat, and whether, on a calm revision of all the circumstances, it was best to wear his wristbands turned up or turned down. Observing that Mr. Feeder's were turned up, Mr. Toots turned his up; but the wristbands of the next arrival being turned down, Mr. Toots turned his down. The differences in point of waistcoat buttoning, not only at the bottom, but at the top too, became so numerous and complicated as the arrivals thickened, that Mr. Toots was continually fingering that article of dress, as if he were performing on some instrument, and appeared to find the incessant execution it demanded quite bewildering. All the young gentlemen, tightly cravated, curled, and pumped, and with their best hats in their hands, having been at different times announced and introduced, Mr. Baps, the dancing-master, came, accompanied by Mrs. Baps, to whom Mrs. Blimber was extremely kind and condescending. Mr. Baps was a very grave gentleman, with a slow and measured manner of speaking; and before he had stood under the lamp five minutes, he began to talk to Toots (who had been silently comparing pumps with him) about what you were to do with your raw materials when they came into your ports in return for your drain of gold. Mr. Toots, to whom the question seemed perplexing, suggested, "Cook 'em." But Mr. Baps did not appear to think that would do. Paul now slipped away from the cushioned corner of a sofa, which had been his post of observation, and went down stairs into the tea-room to be ready for Florence, whom he had not seen for nearly a fortnight, as he had remained at Doctor Blimber's on the previous Saturday and Sunday, lest he should take cold. Presently she came: looking so beautiful in her simple ball-dress, with her fresh flowers in her hand, that when she knelt down on the ground to take Paul round the neck and kiss him (for there was no one there but his friend and another young woman waiting to serve out the tea), he could hardly make up his mind to let her go again, or to take away her bright and loving eyes from his face. "But what is the matter, Floy?" asked Paul, almost sure that he saw a tear there. SIR BARNET SKETTLES, LADY SKETTLES, AND MASTER SKETTLES. "Nothing, darling-nothing," returned Florence. Paul touched her cheek gently with his finger and it was a tear! "Why, Floy!" said he. was anticipated that he would rather touch up the "And what room is this now, for instance?" said "We'll go home together, and I'll nurse you, love," Lady Skettles to Paul's friend, 'Melia. said Florence. "Nurse me!" echoed Paul. Paul couldn't understand what that had to do with it, nor why the two young women looked on so seriously, nor why Florence turned away her face for a moment, and then turned it back, lighted up again with smiles. "Floy," said Paul, holding a ringlet of her dark hair in his hand. "Tell me, dear. Do you think I have grown old-fashioned ?" His sister laughed, and fondled him, and told him "No." "Doctor Blimber's study, ma'am," was the reply. "And this little creature, now," said Lady Skettles, "Young gentlemen, ma'am; yes, ma'am," said "And what is your name, my pale child?" said Lady Skettles. "Because I know they say so," returned Paul," and I want to know what they mean, Floy." But a loud double knock coming at the door, and Florence hurrying to the table, there was no more said between them. Paul wondered again when he saw his friend whisper to Florence, as if she were comforting her; but a new arrival put that out of his head speedily. It was Sir Barnet Skettles, Lady Skettles, and Master Skettles was to be a new Master Skettles. boy after the vacation, and Fame had been busy, in Mr. Feeder's room, with his father, who was in the House of Commons, and of whom Mr. Feeder had said that when he did catch the Speaker's eye (which he had been expected to do for three or four years), it "Dombey," answered Paul. Sir Barnet Skettles immediately interposed, and said that he had had the honor of meeting Paul's father at a public dinner, and that he hoped he was very well. Then Paul heard him say to Lady Skettles, "City-very rich-most respectable-Doctor mentioned it." And then he said to Paul, "Will you tell your good papa that Sir Barnet Skettles rejoiced to hear that he was very well, and sent him his best compliments ?" "Yes, sir," answered Paul. "That is my brave boy," said Sir Barnet Skettles. "Barnet," to Master Skettles-who was revenging himself for the studies to come, on the plum-cake— "this is a young gentleman you ought to know. This is a young gentleman you may know, Barnet," said Sir Barnet Skettles, with an emphasis on the permission. "What eyes! What hair! What a lovely face!" exclaimed Lady Skettles, softly, as she looked at Florence through her glass. "My sister," said Paul, presenting her. The satisfaction of the Skettleses was now complete. And as Lady Skettles had conceived, at first sight, a liking for Paul, they all went up stairs together: Sir Barnet Skettles taking care of Florence, and young Barnet following. Young Barnet did not remain long in the background after they had reached the drawing-room, for Doctor Blimber had him out in no time dancing with Florence. He did not appear to Paul to be particularly happy, or particularly any thing but sulky, or to care much what he was about; but as Paul heard Lady Skettles say to Mrs. Blimber, while she beat time with her fan, that her dear boy was evidently smitten to death by that angel of a child, Miss Dombey, it would seem that Skettles Junior was in a state of bliss, without showing it. Sir Barnet Skettles looked after Mr. Baps when he went to cheer up Mrs. Baps (who, being quite deserted, was pretending to look over the music-book of the gentleman who played the harp), as if he thought him a remarkable kind of man; and shortly afterward he said so in those words to Dr. Blimber, and inquired if he might take the liberty of asking who he was, and whether he had ever been in the Board of Trade. Doctor Blimber answered no, he believed not; and that in fact he was a Professor of "Of something connected with statistics, I'll swear?" observed Sir Barnet Skettles. "Why no, Sir Barnet," replied Dr. Blimber, rubbing his chin. "No, not exactly." "Figures of some sort, I would venture a bet," said Sir Barnet Skettles. "Why yes," said Dr. Blimber, "yes, but not of that sort. Mr. Baps is a very worthy sort of man, Sir Barnet, and-in fact he's our professor of dancing." Paul was amazed to see that this piece of information quite altered Sir Barnet Skettles's opinion of Mr. Baps, and that Sir Barnet flew into a perfect rage, and glowered at Mr. Baps over on the other side of the room. He even went so far as to D Mr, Baps to Lady Skettles, in telling her what had happened, and to say that it was like his most con-sum-mate and con-foun-ded impudence. There was another thing that Paul observed. Mr. Feeder, after imbibing several custard-cups of negus, began to enjoy himself. The dancing in general was ceremonious, and the music rather solemn Little Paul thought it a singular coincidence that nobody had occupied his place among the pillows; and that when he came into the room again, they should all make way for him to go back to it, remembering it was his. Nobody stood before him either, when they observed that he liked to see Florence dancing, but they left the space in front quite clear, so that he might follow her with his eyes. They were so kind, too, even the strangers, of whom there were soon a great many, that they came and spoke to him every now and then, and asked him how he was, and if his head ached, and whether he was tired. He was very much obliged to them for all their kindness and attention, and reclining prop-cing and nothing else, but secretly to stimulate the ped up in his corner, with Mrs. Blimber and Lady Skettles on the same sofa, and Florence coming and sitting by his side as soon as every dance was ended, he looked on very happily indeed. Florence would have sat by him all night, and would not have danced at all of her own accord, but Paul made her, by telling her how much it pleased him. And he told her the truth, too; for his small heart swelled, and his face glowed, when he saw how much they all admired her, and how she was the beautiful little rose-bud of the room. From his nest among the pillows, Paul could see and hear almost every thing that passed, as if the whole were being done for his amusement. Among other little incidents that he observed, he observed Mr. Baps the dancing-master get into conversation with Sir Barnet Skettles, and very soon ask him, as he had asked Mr. Toots, what you were to do with your raw materials, when they came into your ports, in return for your drain of gold-which was such a mystery to Paul that he was quite desirous to know what ought to be done with them. Sir Barnet Skettles had much to say upon the question, and said it; but it did not appear to solve the question, for Mr. Baps retorted, Yes, but supposing Russia stepped in with her tallows; which struck Sir Barnet almost dumb, for he could only shake his head after that, and say, why, then, you must fall back upon your cottons, he supposed. -a little like church music, in fact-but after the custardcups, Mr. Feeder told Mr. Toots that he was going to throw a little spirit into the thing. After that, Mr. Feeder not only began to dance as if he meant dan music to perform wild tunes. Further, he became particular in his attentions to the ladies; and dancing with Miss Blimber, whispered to her-whispered to her!-though not so softly but that Paul heard him say this remarkable poetry, "Had I a heart for falsehood framed, I ne'er could injure You!" This Paul heard him repeat to four young ladies in succession. Well might Mr. Feeder say to Mr. Toots that he was afraid he should be the worse for it tomorrow! Mrs. Blimber was a little alarmed by this-comparatively speaking-profligate behavior; and especially by the alteration in the character of the music, which, beginning to comprehend low melodies that were popular in the streets, might not unnaturally be supposed to give offense to Lady Skettles. But Lady Skettles was so very kind as to beg Mrs. Blimber not to mention it; and to receive her explanation that Mr. Feeder's spirits sometimes betrayed him into excesses on these occasions, with the greatest courtesy and politeness; observing, that he seemed a very nice sort of person for his situation, and that she particularly liked the unassuming style of his hair-which (as already hinted) was about a quarter of an inch long. Once, when there was a pause in the dancing, Lady Skettles told Paul that he seemed very fond of music. PAUL BREAKS UP. Paul replied that he was; and if she was too, she ought to hear his sister, Florence, sing. Lady Skettles presently discovered that she was dying with anxiety to have that gratification; and though Florence was at first very much frightened at being asked to sing before so many people, and begged earnestly to be excused, yet, on Paul calling her to him, and saying, "Do, Floy! Please! For me, my dear!" she went straight to the piano, and began. When they all drew a little away, that Paul might see her; and when he saw her sitting there alone, so young, and good, and beautiful, and kind to him; and heard her thrilling voice, so natural and sweet, and such a golden link between him and all his life's love and happiness, rising out of the silence; he turned his face away, and hid his tears. Not, as he told them when they spoke to him, not that the music was too plaintive or too sorrowful, but it was so dear to him. They all loved Florence! How could they help it! Paul had known beforehand that they must and would; and sitting in his cushioned corner, with calmly folded hands, and one leg loosely doubled under him, few would have thought what triumph and delight expanded his childish bosom while he watched her, or what a sweet tranquillity he felt. Lavish 66 Dombey's sister" reached his ears encomiums on from all the boys: admiration of the self-possessed and modest little beauty was on every lip: reports of her intelligence and accomplishments floated past him, constantly; and, as if borne in upon the air of the summer night, there was a half-intelligible sentiment diffused around, referring to Florence and himself, and breathing sympathy for both, that soothed and touched him. He did not know why. For all that the child observed, and felt, and thought, that night, the present and the absent-what was then and what had been-were blended like the colors in the rainbow, or in the plumage of rich birds when the sun is shining on them, or in the softening sky when the same sun is setting. The many things he had had to think of lately, passed before him in the music; not as claiming his attention over again, or as likely evermore to occupy it, but as peacefully disposed of and A solitary window, gazed through years ago, gone. looked out upon an ocean, miles and miles away; upon its waters, fancies, busy with him only yesterday, were hushed and lulled to rest like broken The same mysterious murmur he had wondered at, when lying on his couch upon the beach, he thought he still heard sounding through his sister's song, and through the hum of voices, and the tread of feet, and having some part in the faces flitting by, and even in the heavy gentleness of Mr. Toots, who frequently came up to shake him by the hand. Through the universal kindness he still thought he heard it, speaking to him; and even his old-fashioned reputation seemed to be allied to it, he knew not how. Thus little Paul sat musing, listening, looking on, and dreaming; and was very happy. waves. Until the time arrived for taking leave: and then, indeed, there was a sensation in the party. Sir Barnet Skettles brought up Skettles Junior to shake hands with him, and asked him if he would remember to tell his good papa, with his best compliments, that he, Sir Barnet Skettles, had said he hoped the 66 Good-bye, Doctor Blimber," said Paul, stretching "Good-bye, my little friend," returned the Doctor. "Ask "I'm very much obliged to you, sir," said Paul, them to take care of Diogenes, if you please." looking innocently up into his awful face. Diogenes was the dog: who had never in his life received a friend into his confidence, before Paul. The Doctor promised that every attention should be paid to Diogenes in Paul's absence, and Paul having again thanked him, and shaken hands with him, heartfelt earnestness that Mrs. Blimber forgot from bade adieu to Mrs. Blimber and Cornelia with such that moment to mention Cicero to Lady Skettles, though she had fully intended it all the evening. Cornelia, taking both Paul's hands in hers, said, "Dombey, Dombey, you have always been my favorite pupil. God bless you!" And it showed, Paul thought, how easily one might do injustice to a person; for Miss Blimber meant it-though she was a Forcer. A buzz then went round among the young gentle"Little Dombey's gomen of "Dombey's going!" ing!" and there was a general move after Paul and Florence down the staircase and into the hall, in which the whole Blimber family were included. Such a circumstance, Mr. Feeder said aloud, as had never happened in the case of any former young gentleman within his experience; but it would be difficult to say if this were sober fact or custard-cups. The servants, with the butler at their head, had all an interest in seeing Little Dombey go; and even the weak-eyed young man, taking out his books and trunks to the coach that was to carry him and Florence to Mrs. Pipchin's for the night, melted visibly. Not even the influence of the softer passion on the young gentlemen-and they all, to a boy, doted on Florence-could restrain them from taking quite a noisy leave of Paul; waving hats after him, pressing down stairs to shake hands with him, crying indiin many such ebullitions of feeling, uncommon among vidually, "Dombey, don't forget me!" and indulging those young Chesterfields. Paul whispered Florence, as she wrapped him up before the door was opened. Would she ever forget it? Did she hear them? Was she glad to know it? And a lively delight was in his eyes as he spoke to her. Once, for a last look, he turned and gazed upon the faces thus addressed to him, surprised to see how and how they were all piled and heaped up, as faces shining and how bright and numerous they were, are at crowded theatres. They swam before him as he looked, like faces in an agitated glass; and next moment he was in the dark coach outside, holding close to Florence. From that time, whenever he thought of Doctor Blimber's, it came back as he had seen it in this last view; and it never seemed to be a real place again, but always a dream, full of eyes. |