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gether for a long time. Diogenes, who was of the party, had at first objected to the admission of Edith, and, even in deference to his mistress's wish, had only permitted it under growling protest. But, emerging by little and little from the ante-room, whither he had retired in dudgeon, he soon appeared to comprehend, that with the most amiable intentions he had made one of those mistakes which will occasionally arise in the best-regulated dogs' minds; as a friendly apology for which he stuck himself up on end between the two, in a very hot place in front of the fire, and sat panting at it, with his tongue out, and a most imbecile ex. pression of countenance, listening to the conversation.

It turned, at first, on Florence's books and favourite pursuits, and on the manner in which she had beguiled the interval since the marriage. The last theme opened up to her a subject which lay very near her heart, and she said, with the tears starting to her eyes:

"Oh, Mamma! I have had a great sorrow since that day."

"You a great sorrow, Florence!"

Yes. Poor Walter is drowned." Florence spread her hands before her face, and wept with all her heart. Many as were the secret tears which Walter's fate had cost her, they flowed yet, when she thought or spoke of him.

"But tell me, dear," said Edith, soothing her. "Who was Walter? What was he to you?"

ment, Florence, relieved of her sad secret, wept
long, but not as painfully as of yore, within the
Pale, even to her lips, and with a face that strove
encircling arms of her new mother.
for composure until its proud beauty was as fixed
as death, Edith looked down upon the weeping girl,
and once kissed her. Then, gradually disengaging
herself, and putting Florence away, she said, stately
and quiet, as a marble image, and in a voice that
deepened as she spoke, but had no other token of
emotion in it:

"Florence, you do not know me! Heaven forbid
"Not learn from you!" repeated Florence, in
that you should learn from me!"
surprise.

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"That I should teach you how to love, or be If you could loved, Heaven forbid!" said Edith. teach me, that were better; but it is too late. You are dear to me, Florence. I did not think that anythis little time." thing could ever be so dear to me, as you are in

She saw that Florence would have spoken here, so checked her with her hand, and went on.

"I will be your true friend always. I will cherish you, as much, if not as well as any one in this world -I know it, and I could. You may trust in me— say it, dear-with the whole confidence even of he might have married, better and truer in all other your pure heart. There are hosts of women whom who could come here, his wife, whose heart could respects than I am, Florence; but there is not one "I know it, dear Mamma!" cried Florence. "He was my brother, Mamma. After dear Paul beat with greater truth to you than mine does." died, we said we would be brother and sister. I had known him a long time-from a little child. "From that first most happy day, I have known "Most happy day!" Edith seemed to repeat the "Though the He knew Paul, who liked him very much; Paul | it." said, almost at the last, Take care of Walter, dear Papa! I was fond of him! Walter had been words involuntarily, and went on. saw you, let the undeserved reward be mine in your brought in to see him, and was there then-in this merit is not mine, for I thought little of you until I the first night of my taking up my abode here; I trust and love. And in this in this, Florence; on am led on as it is best I should be, to say it for the first and last time."

room."

"And did he take care of Walter ?" inquired Edith, sternly.

"Papa? He appointed him to go abroad. He
was drowned in shipwreck on his voyage," said
Florence, sobbing.

"Does he know that he is dead?" asked Edith.
"I cannot tell, Mamma. I have no means of
knowing. Dear Mamma!" cried Florence, clinging
to her as for help, and hiding her face upon her
bosom, "I know that you have seen-"

Stay! Stop, Florence." Edith turned so pale,
and spoke so earnestly, that Florence did not need
her restraining hand upon her lips. "Tell me all
about Walter first; let me understand this history
all through."

Florence, without knowing why, felt almost afraid to hear her proceed, but kept her eyes riveted on the beautiful face so fixed upon her own.

"Never seek to find in me," said Edith, laying if you can help it, Florence, fall off from me beher hand upon her breast, "what is not here. Never cause it is not here. Little by little you will know me better, and the time will come when you will know me, as I know myself. Then, be as lenient only sweet remembrance I shall have." to me as you can, and do not turn to bitterness the

The tears that were visible in her eyes as she Florence related it, and everything belonging to it, even down to the friendship of Mr. Toots, of kept them fixed on Florence, showed that the com whom she could hardly speak in her distress with-posed face was but as a handsome mask; but she out a tearful smile, although she was deeply grate- preserved it, and continued: ful to him. When she had concluded her account, to the whole of which Edith, holding her hand, list ened with close attention, and when a silence had succeeded, Edith said:

"What is it that you know I have seen, Flo,

rence ?"

"I have seen what you say, and know how true it is. But believe me-you will soon, if you cannot now-there is no one on this earth less qualified to set it right or help you, Florence, than I. Never band, more. There should be, so far, a division, ask me why, or speak to me about it or of my hus and a silence between us two, like the grave it self."

"That I am not," said Florence, with the same She sat for some time silent; Florence scarcely mute appeal, and the same quick concealment of her face as before, "that I am not a favourite child, Mamma. I never have been. I have never known venturing to breathe meanwhile, as dim and imperhow to be. I have missed the way, and had no fect shadows of the truth, and all its daily conse one to show it to me. Oh, let me learn from you quences, chased each other through her terrified, how to become dearer to Papa. Teach me! you, yet incredulous imagination. Almost as soon as who can so well!" and clinging closer to her, with she had ceased to speak, Edith's face began to subHa Lan fervent words of gratitude and endear-side from its set composure to that quieter and

more relenting aspect, which it usually wore when she and Florence were alone together. She shaded it, after this change, with her hands; and when she arose, and with an affectionate embrace bade Florence good night, went quickly, and without looking round.

him free. Then, she saw him dead, upon that very bed, and in that very room, and knew that he had never loved her to the last, and fell upon his cold breast, passionately weeping. Then, a prospect opened, and a river flowed, and a plaintive voice she knew, cried, "It is running on, Floy! But when Florence was in bed, and the room It has never stopped! You are moving with it!" was dark except for the glow of the fire, Edith re- And she saw him at a distance stretching out his turned, and saying that she could not sleep, and arms towards her, while a figure such as Walter's that her dressing.room was lonely, drew a chair used to be, stood near him, awfully serene and still. upon the hearth, and watched the embers as they In every vision, Edith came and went, sometimes died away. Florence watched them too from her to her joy, sometimes to her sorrow, until they bed, until they, and the noble figure before them, were alone upon the brink of a dark grave, and erowned with its flowing hair, and in its thought- Edith pointing down, she looked and saw what! ful eyes reflecting back their light, became con-another Edith lying at the bottom. fused and indistinct, and finally were lost in slumber.

In her sleep, however, Florence could not lose an undefined impression of what had so recently passed. It formed the subject of her dreams, and haunted her; now in one shape, now in another; but always oppressively; and with a sense of fear. She dreamed of seeking her father in wildernesses, of following his track up fearful heights, and down into deep mines and caverns; of being charged with something that would release him from extraordinary suffering-she knew not what, or why -yet never being able to attain the goal and set

In the terror of this dream, she cried out and awoke, she thought. A soft voice seemed to whisper in her ear, "Florence, dear Florence, it is nothing but a dream!" and stretching out her arms, she returned the caress of her new mamma, who then went out at the door in the light of the grey morning. In a moment, Florence sat up wondering whether this had really taken place or not; but she was only certain that it was grey morning indeed, and that the blackened ashes of the fire were on the hearth, and that she was alone. So passed the night on which the happy pair came home.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

HOUSEWARMING.

MANY succeeding days passed in like manner; except that there were numerous visits received and paid, and that Mrs. Skewton held little levees in her own apartments, at which Major Bagstock was a frequent attendant, and that Florence encountered no second look from her father, although she saw him every day. Nor had she much communication in words with her new mamma, who was imperious and proud to all the house but her-Florence could not but observe that-and who, although she always sent for her or went to her when she came home from visiting, and would always go into her room at night, before retiring to rest, however late the hour, and never lost an opportunity of being with her, was often her silent and thoughtful companion for a long time together.

so she had given her this warning, and forbidden the subject in very compassion. Unselfish here, as in her every act and fancy, Florence preferred to bear the pain of this new wound, rather than encourage any faint foreshadowing of the truth as it concerned her father; tender of him, even in her wandering thoughts. As for his home, she hoped it would become a better one, when its state of novelty and transition should be over; and for herself, thought little and lamented less.

If none of the new family were particularly at home in private, it was resolved that Mrs. Dombey at least should be at home in public, without delay. A series of entertainments in celebration of the late nuptials, and in cultivation of society, were arranged, chiefly by Mr. Dombey and Mrs. Skewton; and it was settled that the festive proceedings should commence by Mrs. Dombey's being at home upon a certain evening, and by Mr. and Mrs. Dombey's requesting the honour of the company of a great many incongruous people to dinner on the same day.

Florence, who had hoped for so much from this marriage, could not help sometimes comparing the bright house with the faded dreary place out of which it had arisen, and wondering when, in any shape, it would begin to be a home; for that it was no home then, for any one, though everything went on luxuriously and regularly, she had always a Accordingly Mr. Dombey produced a list of sunsecret misgiving. Many an hour of sorrowful re- dry eastern magnates who were to be bidden to flection by day and night, and many a tear of this feast, on his behalf; to which Mrs. Skewton, blighted hope, Florence bestowed upon the assur-acting for her dearest child, who was haughtily ance her new mamma had given her so strongly, careless on the subject, subjoined a western list, that there was no one on the earth more powerless comprising Cousin Feenix, not yet returned to Bathan herself to teach her how to win her father's den Baden, greatly to the detriment of his perheart. And soon Florence began to think-re-sonal estate; and a variety of moths of various desolved to think, would be the truer phrase-that as grees and ages, who had, at various times, fluttered no one knew so well, how hopeless of being sub-round the light of her fair daughter, or herself

stine infurr to their wings. Fl

ence was enrolled as a member of the dinnerparty, by Edith's command-elicited by a moment's doubt and hesitation on the part of Mrs. Skewton; and Florence with a wondering heart, and with a quick instinctive sense of everything that grated on her father, in the least, took her silent share in the proceedings of the day.

The proceedings commenced by Mr. Dombey, in a cravat of extraordinary height and stiffness, walking restlessly about the drawing-room until the hour appointed for dinner; punctual to which, an East India Director, of immense wealth, in a waistcoat apparently constructed in serviceable deal by some plain carpenter, but really engendered in the tailor's art, and composed of the material called nankeen, arrived, and was received by Mr. Dombey alone. The next stage of the proceedings was Mr. Dombey's sending his compliments to Mrs. Dombey, with a correct statement of the time; and the next, the East India Director's falling prostrate, in a conversational point of view, and, as Mr. Dombey was not the man to pick him up, staring at the fire until rescue appeared, in the shape of Mrs. Skewton; whom the Director, as a pleasant start in life for the evening, mistook for Mrs. Dombey, and greeted with enthusiasm.

and shoulders, who spoke with an engaging lisp, and whose eyelids wouldn't keep up well, without a great deal of trouble on her part, and whose man. ners had that indefinable charm which so frequently attaches to the giddiness of youth. As the greater part of Mr. Dombey's list were disposed to be taci. turn, and the greater part of Mrs. Dombey's list were disposed to be talkative, and there was no sympathy between them, Mrs. Dombey's list, by magnetic agreement, entered into a bond of union against Mr. Dombey's list, who, wandering about the rooms in a desolate manner, or seeking refuge in corners, entangled themselves with company coming in, and became barricaded behind sofas, and had doors opened smartly from without against their heads, and underwent every sort of discomforture.

When dinner was announced, Mr. Dombey took down an old lady like a crimson velvet pincushion stuffed with bank notes, who might have been the identical old lady of Threadneedle-street, she was so rich, and looked so unaccominodating; Cousin Feenix took down Mrs. Dombey; Major Bagstock took down Mrs. Skewton; the young thing with the shoulders was bestowed, as an extinguisher, upon the East India Director; and the remaining ladies were left on view in the drawing-room by the remaining gentlemen, until a forlorn hope vo

brave spirits with their captives blocked up the dining-room door, shutting out seven mild men in the stony-hearted hall. When all the rest were got in and were seated, one of these mild men still up. peared, in smiling confusion, totally destitute and unprovided for, and, escorted by the butler, made the complete circuit of the table twice before his chair could be found, which it finally was, on Mrs. Dombey's left hand; after which the mild man never held up his head again.

The next arrival was a Bank Director, reputed to be able to buy up anything-human nature generally, if he should take it in his head to influ-lunteered to conduct them down stairs, and those ence the money market in that direction-but who was a wonderfully modest spoken man, almost boastfully so, and mentioned his "little place" at Kingston-upon-Thames, and its just being barely equal to giving Dombey a bed and a chop, if he would come and visit it. Ladies, he said, it was not for a man who lived in his quiet way to take upon himself to invite- but if Mrs. Skewton and her daughter, Mrs. Dombey, should ever find them. selves in that direction, and would do him the honour to look at a little bit of a shrubbery they would find there, and a poor little flower-bed or so, and a humble apology for a pinery, and two or three ttle attempts of that sort without any pretension, they would distinguish him very much. Carrying out his character, this gentleman was very plainly dressed, in a wisp of cambric for a neckcloth, big shoes, a coat that was too loose for him, and a pair of trowsers that were too spare; and mention being made of the Opera by Mrs. Skewton, he said he very seldom went there, for he couldn't afford it. It seemed greatly to delight and exhilarate him to say so; and he beamed on his audience afterwards, with his hands in his pockets, and excessive satisfaction twinkling in his eyes.

Now Mrs. Dombey appeared, beautiful and proud, and as disdainful and defiant of them all as if the bridal wreath upon her head had been a garland of steel pikes put on to force concession from her which she would die sooner than yield. With her was Florence. When they entered together, the shadow of the night of the return again darkened Mr. Dombey's face. But unobserved; for Florence did not venture to raise her eyes to his, and Edith's indifference was too supreme to take the least heed of him.

The arrivals quickly became numerous. More directors, chairmen of public companies, elderly ladies carrying burdens on their heads for full dress, Cousin Feenix, Major Bagstock, friends of Mrs. Skewton, with the same bright bloom on their complexion, and very precious necklaces on very withered necks. Among these, a young lady of sixty-five, remarkably coolly dressed as to her back

Now, the spacious dining-room, with the com. pany seated round the glittering table, busy with their glittering spoons, and knives and forks, and plates, might have been taken for a grown-up ex. position of Tom Tidler's ground, where children pick up gold and silver. Mr. Dombey, as Tidler, looked his character to admiration; and the long plateau of precious metal frosted, separating him from Mrs. Dombey, whereon frosted Cupids offered scentless flowers to each of them, was allegorical to see.

Cousin Feenix was in great force, and looked astonishingly young. But he was sometimes thoughtless in his good humour-his memory occasionally wandering like his legs and on this occasion caused the company to shudder. It happened thus. The young lady with the back, who regarded Cousin Feenix with sentiments of tenderness, had entrapped the East India Director into leading her to the chair next him; in return for which good office, she immediately abandoned the Director, who being shaded on the other side by a gloomy black velvet hat surmounting a bony and speechless female with a fan, yielded to a depression of spirits and withdrew into himself. Cousin Feenix and the young lady were very lively and humorous, and the young lady laughed so much at something Cousin Feenix related to her, that Major Bagstock begged leave to inquire on behalf of Mrs. Skewton (they were sitting opposite, a little lower down), whether that might not be considered public property.

"Why, upon my life," said Cousin Feenix, "there's nothing in it; it really is not worth_repeating: in point of fact, it's merely an anecdote.

of Jack Adams. I dare say my friend Dombey;" for the general attention was concentrated on Cousin Feenix; "may remember Jack Adams, Jack Adams, not Joe; that was his brother, Jack-little Jack-man with a cast in his eye, and a slight impediment in his speech - man who sat for somebody's borough. We used to call him in my par liamentary time W. P. Adams, in consequence of his being Warming Pan for a young fellow who was in his minority. Perhaps my friend Dombey may have known the man?"

Mr. Dombey, who was as likely to have known Guy Fawkes, replied in the negative. But one of the seven mild men unexpectedly leaped into distinction, by saying he had known him, and adding always wore Hessian boots!"

"Tops!" cried the mild man, rising in public estimation every instant.

"Of course," said Cousin Feenix, "you were intimate with 'em ?"

"I knew them both," said the mild man. With whom Mr. Dombey immediately took wine.

"Devilish good fellow, Jack?" said Cousin Feenix, again bending forward, and smiling.

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Excellent," returned the mild man, becoming bold on his success. "One of the best fellows I ever knew."

"No doubt you have heard the story?" said Cousin Feenix.

"I shall know," replied the bold mild man, "when I have heard your Ludship tell it." With that he leaned back in his chair and smiled at the ceiling, as knowing it by heart, and being already tickled.

In point of fact, it's nothing of a story in itself," said Cousin Feenix, addressing the table with a smile, and a gay shake of his head, "and not worth a word of preface. But it's illustrative of the neatness of Jack's humour. The fact is, that Jack was invited down to a marriage-which I think took place in Barkshire?"

"Shropshire," said the bold mild man, finding himself appealed to.

that day, appeared on any face. A profound silence ensued; and the wretched mild man, who had been as innocent of any real foreknowledge of the story. as the child unborn, had the exquisite misery of reading in every eye that he was regarded as the prime mover of the mischief.

Mr. Dombey's face was not a changeful one, and being cast in its mould of state that day, showed little other apprehension of the story, if any, than that which he expressed when he said solemnly, amidst the silence, that it was "Very good." There was a rapid glance from Edith towards Florence, but otherwise she remained, externally, impassive and unconscious.

Through the various stages of rich meats and wines, continual gold and silver, dainties of earth, air, fire, and water, heaped-up fruits, and that unnecessary article in Mr. Dombey's banquets-icethe dinner slowly made its way: the later stages being achieved to the sonorous music of incessant double knocks, announcing the arrival of visitors, whose portion of the feast was limited to the smell thereof. When Mrs. Dombey rose, it was a sight to see her lord, with stiff throat and erect head, hold the door open for the withdrawal of the ladies; and to see how she swept past him, with his daughter on her arm.

Mr. Donbey was a grave sight behind the de. canters, in a state of dignity; and the East India Director was a forlorn sight near the unoccupied end of the table, in a state of solitude; and the Major was a military sight, relating stories of the Duke of York to six of the seven mild men (the ambitious one was utterly quenched); and the Bank Director was a lowly sight, making a plan of his little attempt at a pinery, with dessert-knives, for a group of admirerers; and Cousin Feenix was a thoughtful sight, as he smoothed his long wristbands, and stealthily adjusted his wig. But all these sights were of short duration, being speedily broken up by coffee, and the desertion of the room.

There was a throng in the state-rooms up-stairs, increasing every minute; but still Mr. Dombey's list of visitors appeared to have some native impossibility of amalgamation with Mrs. Dombey's list, and no one could have doubted which was which. The single exception to this rule perhaps was Mr. Carker, who now smiled among the company, and who, as he stood in the circle that was

them, his chief, Cleopatra, and the Major, Florence, and everything around-appeared at ease with both divisions of guests, and not marked as exclusively belonging to either.

"Was it? well! In point of fact it might have been in any shire," said Cousin Feenix. So, my friend being invited down to this marriage in Any-gathered about Mrs. Dombey-watchful of her, of shire," with a pleasant sense of the readiness of this joke," goes. Just as some of us, having had the honour of being invited to the marriage of my lovely and accomplished relative with my friend Dombey, didn't require to be asked twice, and were Florence had a dread of him, which made his devilish glad to be present on so interesting an oc-presence in the room a nightmare to her. She casion.-Goes-Jack goes. Now, this marriage could not avoid the recollection of it, for her eyes was, in point of fact, the marriage of an uncom- were drawn towards him every now and then, by monly fine girl with a man for whom she didn't an attraction of dislike and distrust that she could care a button, but whom she accepted on account not resist. Yet her thoughts were busy with other of his property, which was immense. When Jack things; for as she sat apart-not unadmired or unreturned to town, after the uuptials, a man he knew, sought, but in the gentleness of her quiet spiritmeeting him in the lobby of the House of Commons she felt how little part her father had in what was Bays, Well Jack, how are the ill-matched couple?' going on, and saw, with pain, how ill at ease he Ill-matched,' says Jack. Not at all. It's a per- seemed to be, and how little regarded he was as he fectly fair and equal transaction. She is regularly lingered about near the door, for those visitors whom bought, and you may take your oath he is as regu. he wished to distinguish with particular attention, larly sold!" and took them up to introduce them to his wife, who received them with proud coldness, but showed no interest or wish to please, and never, after the bare ceremony of reception, in consultation of wishes, or in welcome of his friends, opened

In his full enjoyment of this culminating point of his story, the shudder, which had gone all round | the table like an electric spark, struck Cousin Feenix, and he stopped. Not a smile occasioned by

"Yes," retorted Mrs. Chick, with great severity, "your Lucretia Tox-I say, how anybody can see that mother-in-law of Paul's, and that haughty wife of Paul's, and these indecent old frights with their backs and shoulders, and, in short, this at home generally, and hum-," on which word Mrs. Chick" laid a scornful emphasis that made Mr. Chick start, "is, I thank Heaven, a mystery to me!"

Mr. Chick screwed his mouth into a form irreconcilable with humming or whistling, and looked very contemplative.

But I hope I know what is due to myself," said Mrs. Chick, swelling with indignation, "though Paul has forgotten what is due to me. I am not going to sit here, a member of this family, to be taken no notice of. I am not the dirt under Mrs.