"Very confusing, sir. Not much in the habit. of travelling by rail myself, sir, but gentlemen frequently say so."

"Do many gentlemen come here?" "Pretty well, sir, in general. Nobody here at present. Rather slack just now, sir. Everything is slack, sir."

He made no answer; but had risen into a sitting posture on the sofa where he had been lying, and leaned forward with an arm on each knee, staring at the ground. He could not master his own attention for a minute together. It rushed away where it would, but it never, for an instant, lost itself in sleep.

He drank a quantity of wine after dinner in vain. No such artificial means would bring sleep to his eyes. His thoughts, more incoherent, dragged him more unmercifully after them as if a wretch, condemned to such expiation, were drawn at the heels of wild horses. No oblivion, and no rest.

How long he sat drinking and brooding, and being dragged in imagination hither and thither, no one could have told less correctly than he. But he knew that he had been sitting a long time by candle-light, when he started up and listened in a sudden terror.

For now, indeed, it was no fancy. The ground shook, the house rattled, the fierce impetuous rush was in the air! He felt it come up, and go darting by; and even when he had hurried to the window, and saw what it was, he stood, shrinking from it, as if it were not safe to look.

A curse upon the fiery devil, thundering along so smoothly, tracked through the distant valley by a glare of light and lurid smoke, and gone! He felt as if he had been plucked out of its path, and saved from being torn asunder. It made him shrink and shudder even now, when its faintest hum was hushed, and when the lines of iron road he could trace in the moonlight, running to a point, were as empty and as silent as a desert.

Unable to rest, and irresistibly attracted-or he thought so-to this road, he went out, and lounged on the brink of it, marking the way the train had gone, by the yet smoking cinders that were lying in its track. After a lounge of some half-hour in the direction by which it had disappeared, he turned and walked the other way -still keeping to the brink of the road-past

the inn garden, and a long way down; looking curiously at the bridges, signals, lamps, and wondering when another devil would come by.

A trembling of the ground, a quick vibration in his ears; a distant shriek; a dull light advancing, quickly changed to two red eyes, and a fierce fire, dropping glowing coals; an irresistible bearing on of a great roaring and dilating mass; a high wind, and a rattle-another come and gone, and he holding to a gate, as if to save himself!

He waited for another, and for another. He walked back to his former point, and back again to that, and still, through the wearisome vision of his journey, looked for these approaching monsters. He loitered about the station, waiting until one should stay to call there; and when one did, and was detached for water, he stood parallel with it, watching its heavy wheels and brazen front, and thinking what a cruel power and might it had. Ugh! To see the great wheels slowly turning, and to think of being run down and crushed!

Disordered with wine and want of rest-that want which nothing, although he was so weary, would appease these ideas and objects assumed a diseased importance in his thoughts. When he went back to his room, which was not until near midnight, they still haunted him, and he sat listening for the coming of another.

So in his bed, whither he repaired with no hope of sleep. He still lay listening; and, when he felt the trembling and vibration, got up and went to the window, to watch (as he could from its position) the dull light changing to the two red eyes, and the fierce fire dropping glowing coals, and the rush of the giant as it fled past, and the track of glare and smoke along the valley. Then he would glance in the direction by which he intended to depart at sunrise, as there was no rest for him there; and would lie down again, to be troubled by the vision of his journey, and the old monotony of bells and wheels and horses' feet, until another came. This lasted all night. So far from resuming the mastery of himself, he seemed, if possible, to lose it more and more as the night crept on. When the dawn appeared, he was still tormented with thinking, still postponing thought until he should be in a better state; the past, present, and future all floated confusedly before him, and he had lost all power of looking steadily at any one of them.

"At what time," he asked the man who had waited on him overnight, now entering with a candle, " do I leave here, did you say?"

"About a quarter after four, sir. Express comes through at four, sir. It don't stop."

Having thrown himself upon the bed, halfdressed, he was at the window as the man left the room. The cold light of morning had succeeded to night, and there was already, in the sky, the red suffusion of the coming sun. He bathed his head and face with water-there was no cooling influence in it for him-hurriedly put on his clothes, paid what he owed, and went out.

The air struck chill and comfortless as it breathed upon him. There was a heavy dew; and, hot as he was, it made him shiver. After a glance at the place where he had walked last night, and at the signal lights burning feebly in the morning, and bereft of their significance, he turned to where the sun was rising, and beheld it in its glory, as it broke upon the scene.

So awful, so transcendent in its beauty, so divinely solemn. As he cast his faded eyes upon it, where it rose, tranquil and serene, unmoved by all the wrong and wickedness on which its beams had shone since the beginning of the world, who shall say that some weak sense of virtue upon Earth, and its reward in Heaven, did not manifest itself, even to him? If ever he remembered sister or brother with a touch of tenderness and remorse, who shall say it was not then?

He needed some such touch then. Death was on him. He was marked off from the living world, and going down into his grave.

He paid the money for his journey to the country place he had thought of; and was walking to and fro alone, looking along the lines of iron, across the valley in one direction, and towards a dark bridge near at hand in the other; when, turning in his walk, where it was bounded by one end of the wooden stage on which he paced up and down, he saw the man from whom he had fled, emerging from the door by which he himself had entered there. And their eyes met.

In the quick unsteadiness of the surprise, he staggered, and slipped on to the road below him. But, recovering his feet immediately, he

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stepped back a pace or two upon that road, to interpose some wider space between them, and looked at his pursuer, breathing short and quick.

He heard a shout-another-saw the face change from its vindictive passion to a faint sickness and terror-felt the earth trembleknew in a moment that the rush was come— uttered a shriek-looked round-saw the red eyes, bleared and dim, in the daylight, close upon him-was beaten down, caught up, and whirled away upon a jagged mill, that spun him round and round, and struck him limb from limb, and licked his stream of life up with its fiery heat, and cast his mutilated fragments in the air.

When the traveller who had been recognised recovered from a swoon, he saw them bringing from a distance something covered, that lay heavy and still, upon a board, between four men, and saw that others drove some dogs away that sniffed upon the road, and soaked his blood up with a train of ashes.

CHAPTER LVI.

SEVERAL PEOPLE DELIGHTED, AND THE GAME

CHICKEN DISGUSTED.

HE Midshipman was all alive. Mr. Toots and Susan had arrived at last. Susan had run up-stairs like a young woman bereft of her senses, and Mr. Toots and the Chicken had gone into the parlour.

"Oh my own pretty darling sweet Miss Floy!" cried the Nipper, running into Florence's room, "to think that it should come to this and I should find you here my own dear dove with nobody to wait upon you and no home to call your own but never never will I go away again Miss Floy for though I may not gather moss I'm not a rolling stone nor is my heart a stone or else it wouldn't bust as it is busting now oh dear oh dear!"

Pouring out these words, without the faintest indication of a stop of any sort, Miss Nipper, on her knees beside her mistress, hugged her close.

"Oh love!" cried Susan, "I know all that's past, I know it all my tender pet and I'm a choking give me air!"

"Susan, dear good Susan!" said Florence.

"Oh bless her! I that was her little maid when she was a little child! and is she really, really truly going to be married?" exclaimed Susan, in a burst of pain and pleasure, pride and

grief, and Heaven knows how many other conflicting feelings.

"Who told you so ?" said Florence.

"Oh gracious me! that innocentest creetur Toots," returned Susan hysterically. "I knew he must be right my dear, because he took on so. He's the devotedest and innocentest infant! And is my darling," pursued Susan, with another close embrace and burst of tears, "really, really going to be married ?"

The mixture of compassion, pleasure, tenderness, protection, and regret with which the Nipper constantly recurred to this subject, and, at every such recurrence, raised her head to look in the young face and kiss it, and then laid her head again upon her mistress's shoulder, caressing her and sobbing, was as womanly and good a thing, in its way, as ever was seen in the world.

"There, there!" said the soothing voice of Florence presently. "Now you're quite yourself, dear Susan!"

Miss Nipper, sitting down upon the floor, at her mistress's feet, laughing and sobbing, holding her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes with one hand, and patting Diogenes with the other as he licked her face, confessed to being more composed, and laughed and cried a little more in proof of it.

"I-I-I never did see such a creetur as that Toots," said Susan, " in all my born days, never!" "So kind," suggested Florence.

"And so comic!" Susan sobbed. "The way he's been going on inside with me, with that disrespectable Chicken on the box!"

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About what, Susan ?" inquired Florence timidly.

"Oh about Lieutenant Walters, and Captain Gills, and you my dear Miss Floy, and the silent tomb," said Susan.

"The silent tomb!" repeated Florence.

"He says "-here Susan burst into a violent hysterical laugh-" that he'll go down into it now, immediately and quite comfortable, but bless your heart my dear Miss Floy he won't, he's a great deal too happy in seeing other people happy for that, he may not be a Solomon," pursued the Nipper, with her usual volubility, nor do I say he is, but this I do say, a less selfish human creature human nature never knew."

Miss Nipper, being still hysterical, laughed immoderately after making this energetic declaration, and then informed Florence that he was waiting below to see her; which would be a rich repayment for the trouble he had had in his late expedition.

Florence entreated Susan to beg of Mr. Toots

as a favour that she might have the pleasure of thanking him for his kindness; and Susan, in a few moments, produced that young gentleman, still very much dishevelled in appearance, and stammering exceedingly.

"Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots, "to be again permitted to-to-gaze-at least, not to gaze, but I don't exactly know what I was going to say, but it's of no consequence."

"I have to thank you so often," returned Florence, giving him both her hands, with all her innocent gratitude beaming in her face, "that I have no words left, and don't know how to do it."

"Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots in an awful voice, "if it was possible that you could, consistently with your angelic nature, curse me, you would if I may be allowed to say so-floor me infinitely less than by these undeserved expressions of kindness. Their effect upon me-isbut," said Mr. Toots abruptly, "this is a digression, and 's of no consequence at all."

As there seemed to be no means of replying to this but by thanking him again, Florence thanked him again.

"I could wish," said Mr. Toots, "to take this opportunity, Miss Dombey, if I might, of entering into a word of explanation. I should have had the pleasure of-of returning with Susan at an earlier period; but, in the first place, we didn't know the name of the relation to whose house she had gone, and, in the second, as she had left that relation's and gone to another at a distance, I think that scarcely anything short of the sagacity of the Chicken would have found her out in the time."

Florence was sure of it.

"This, however," said Mr. Toots, "is not the point. The company of Susan has been, I assure you, Miss Dombey, a consolation and satisfaction to me, in my state of mind, more easily conceived than described. The journey has been its own reward. That, however, still, is not the point. Miss Dombey, I have before observed that I know I am not what is considered a quick person. I am perfectly aware of that. I don't think anybody could be better acquainted with his own-if it was not too strong an expression, I should say with the thickness of his own-head than myself. But, Miss Dombey, I do, notwithstanding, perceive the state ofof things with Lieutenant Walters. Whatever agony that state of things may have caused me (which is of no consequence at all), I am bound to say, that Lieutenant Walters is a person who appears to be worthy of the blessing that has fallen on his-on his brow. May he wear it

long, and appreciate it, as a very different and very unworthy individual, that it is of no consequence to name, would have done! That, however, still, is not the point. Miss Dombey, Captain Gills is a friend of mine; and during the interval that is now elapsing, I believe it would afford Captain Gills pleasure to see me occasionally coming backwards and forwards here. It would afford me pleasure so to come. But I cannot forget that I once committed myself, fatally, at the corner of the square at Brighton; and if my presence will be, in the least degree, unpleasant to you, I only ask you to name it to me now, and assure you that I shall perfectly understand you. I shall not consider it at all unkind, and shall only be too delighted and happy to be honoured with your confidence."

"Mr. Toots," returned Florence, "if you, who are so old and true a friend of mine, were to stay away from this house now, you would make me very unhappy. It can never, never give me any feeling but pleasure to see you."

"Miss Dombey," said Mr. Toots, taking out his pocket-handkerchief, "if I shed a tear, it is a tear of joy. It is of no consequence, and I am very much obliged to you. I may be allowed to remark, after what you have so kindly said, that it is not my intention to neglect my person any longer."

Florence received this intimation with the prettiest expression of perplexity possible.

"I mean," said Mr. Toots, "that I shall consider it my duty as a fellow-creature generally, until I am claimed by the silent tomb, to make the best of myself, and to-to have my boots as brightly polished as -as circumstances will admit of. This is the last time, Miss Dombey, of my intruding any observation of a private and personal nature. I thank you very much indeed. If I am not, in a general way, as sensible as my friends could wish me to be, or as I could wish myself, I really am, upon my word and honour, particularly sensible of what is considerate and kind. I feel," said Mr. Toots in an impassioned tone, "as if I could express my feelings, at the present moment, in a most remarkable manner, if-if-I could only get a start."

Appearing not to get it, after waiting a minute or two to see if it would come, Mr. Toots took a hasty leave, and went below to seek the captain, whom he found in the shop.

"Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, "what is now to take place between us, takes place under the sacred seal of confidence. It is the sequel, Captain Gills, of what has taken place between myself and Miss Dombey up-stairs."

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"Alow and aloft, eh, my lad?" murmured the captain.

"Exactly so, Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, whose fervour of acquiescence was greatly heightened by his entire ignorance of the captain's meaning. "Miss Dombey, I believe, Captain Gills, is to be shortly united to Lieutenant Walters ?"

"Why, ay, my lad. We're all shipmets here, -Wal'r and sweetheart will be jined together in the house of bondage, as soon as the askings is over," whispered Captain Cuttle in his ear. "The askings, Captain Gills!" repeated Mr. Toots.

"In the church, down yonder," said the captain, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.. "Oh! Yes!" returned Mr. Toots.

"And then," said the captain in his hoarse whisper, and tapping Mr. Toots on the chest with the back of his hand, and falling from him with a look of infinite admiration, "what follers? That there pretty creetur, as delicately brought up as a foreign bird, goes away upon the roaring main with Wal'r on a woyage to China."

"Lord, Captain Gills!" said Mr. Toots. "Ay!" nodded the captain. "The ship as took him up, when he was wrecked in the hurricane that had drove her clean out of her course, was a China trader, and Wal'r made the woyage, and got into favour, aboard and ashore-being as smart and good a lad as ever stepped-and so, the supercargo dying at Canton, he got made (having acted as clerk afore), and now he's supercargo aboard another ship, same owners. And so, you see," repeated the captain thoughtfully, "the pretty creetur goes away upon the roaring main with Wal'r, on a woyage to China." Mr. Toots and Captain Cuttle heaved a sigh in concert.

"What then?" said the captain. "She loves him true. He loves her true. Them as should have loved and fended of her treated of her like the beasts as perish. When she, cast out of home, come here to me, and dropped upon them planks, her wownded heart was broke. I know it. I, Ed'ard Cuttle, see it. There's nowt but true, kind, steady love as can ever piece it up again. If so be I didn't know that, and didn't know as Wal'r was her true love, brother, and she his, I'd have these here blue arms and legs chopped off afore I'd let her go. But I do know it, and what then? Why, then, I say, Heaven go with 'em both, and so it will! Amen!"

"Captain Gills," said Mr. Toots, "let me have the pleasure of shaking hands. You've a way of saying things, that gives me an agreeable warmth all up my back. I say Amen. You are

aware, Captain Gills, that I, too, have adored Miss Dombey."

"Cheer up!" said the captain, laying his hand on Mr. Toots's shoulder. "Stand by, boy!"

"It is my intention, Captain Gills," returned the spirited Mr. Toots, "to cheer up. Also to stand by, as much as possible. When the silent tomb shall yawn, Captain Gills, I shall be ready for burial; not before. But not being certain, just at present, of my power over myself, what I wish to say to you, and what I shall take it as a

particular favour if you will mention to Lieutenant Walters, is as follows."

"Is as follers," echoed the captain. "Steady!" "Miss Dombey being so inexpressibly kind," continued Mr. Toots with watery eyes, "as to say that my presence is the reverse of disagreeable to her, and you and everybody here being no less forbearing and tolerant towards one who -who certainly," said Mr. Toots, with momentary dejection, "would appear to have been born by mistake, I shall come backwards and

forwards of an evening during the short time we can all be together. But what I ask is this. If, at any moment, I find that I cannot endure the contemplation of Lieutenant Walters's bliss, and should rush out, I hope, Captain Gills, that you and he will both consider it as my misfortune, and not my fault, or the want of inward conflict. That you'll feel convinced I bear no malice to any living creature-least of all to Lieutenant Walters himself-and that you'll casually re

mark that I have gone out for a walk, or probably to see what o'clock it is by the Royal Exchange. Captain Gills, if you could enter into this arrangement, and could answer for Lieutenant Walters, it would be a relief to my feelings that I should think cheap at the sacrifice of a considerable portion of my property."

"My lad," returned the captain, "say no more. There ain't a colour you can run up as won't be made out, and answered to, by Wal'r and self."