CHAPTER XLVI.

RECOGNIZANT AND REFLECTIVE.

AMONG Sundry minor alterations in Mr. Carker's life and habits that began to take place at this time, none was more remarkable than the extraordinary diligence with which he applied himself to business, and the closeness with which he investigated every detail that the affairs of the House laid open to him. Always active and penetrating in such matters, his lynx-eyed vigilance now increased twenty-fold. Not only did his wary watch keep pace with every present point that every day presented to him in some new form, but in the midst of these engrossing occupations he found leisure—that is, he made it-to review the past transactions of the Firm, and his share in them, during a long series of years. Frequently when the clerks were all gone, the offices dark and empty, and all similar places of business shut up, Mr. Carker, with the whole anatomy of the iron room laid bare before him, would explore the mysteries of books and papers, with the patient progress of a man who was dissecting the minutest nerves and fibres of his subject. Perch, the messenger who usually remained on these occasions, to entertain him. self with the perusal of the Price Current by the light of one candle, or to doze over the fire in the outer office, at the imminent risk every moment of diving head foremost into the coal box, could not withhold the tribute of his admiration from this zealous conduct, although it much contracted his domestic enjoyments; and again, and again, expatiated to Mrs. Perch (now nursing twins) on the industry and acutenes of their managing gentleman in the City.

The same increased and sharp attention that Mr. Carker bestowed on the business of the House, he applied to his own personal affairs. Though not a partner in the concern-a distinction hitherto reserved solely to inheritors of the great name of Dombey-he was in the receipt of some per centage on its dealings; and, participating in all its facilities for the employment of money to advantage, was considered, by the minnows among the tritons of the East, a rich man. It began to be said, among these shrewd observers, that Jem Carker, of Dombey's, was looking about him to see what he was worth; and that he was calling in his money at a good time, like the long-headed fellow he was; and bets were even offered on the Stock Exchange that Jem was going to marry a rich widow. Yet these cares did not in the least interfere with Mr. Carker's watching of his chief, or with his cleanness, neatness, sleekness, or any catlike quality he possessed. It was not so much that there was a change in him, in reference to any of his habits, as that the whole man was intensified. Everything that had been observable in him before, was observable now, but with a greater amount of concentration. He did each single thing, as if he did nothing else-a pretty certain indication in a man of that range of ability and purpose, that he is doing something which sharpens and keeps alive his keenest powers.

The only decided alteration in him, was, that as he rode to and fro along the streets, he would fall into deep fits of musing, like that in which he had come away from Mr. Dombey's house, on the morning of that gentleman's disaster. At such times, he would keep clear of the obstacles in his way, mechanically; and would appear to see and hear nothing until arrival at his destination, or some sudden chance or effort roused him. Walking his white-legged horse thus, to the counting-house of Dombey and Son one day, he was as unconscious of the observation of two pairs of women's eyes, as of the fascinated orbs of Rob the Grinder, who, in waiting a street's length from the appointed place, as a demonstration of punctuality, vainly touched and retouched his hat to attract attention, and trotted along on foot, by his master's side, prepared to hold his stirrup when he should alight.

"See where he goes!" cried one of these two women, an old creature, who stretched out her shrivelled arm to point him out to her companion, a young woman, who stood close beside her, withdrawn like herself into a gateway.

Mrs. Brown's daughter looked out, at this bidding on the part of Mrs. Brown; and there were wrath and vengeance in her face.

"I never thought to look at him again," she said, in a low voice; "but it's well I should, perhaps. I see. I see!"

"Not changed!" said the old woman, with a look of eager malice. "He changed!" returned the other. "What for? What has he suffered? There is change enough for twenty in me. Isn't that enough ?" "See where he goes!" muttered the old woman, watching her daughter with her red eyes; "so easy, and so trim, a' horseback, while we are in the mud-"

"And of it," said her daughter, impatiently. "We are mud, underneath his horse's feet. What should we be?"

In the intentness with which she looked after him again, she made a hasty gesture with her hand when the old woman began to reply, as if her view could be obstructed by mere sound. Her mother watching her, and not him, remained silent; until her kindling glance subsided, and she drew a long breath, as if in the relief of his being gone.

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'Deary!" said the old woman then. "Alice! Handsome gal! Ally!" She gently shook her sleeve to arouse her attention. "Will you let him go like that, when you can wring money from him. Why, it's a wickedness, my daughter."

"Haven't I told you, that I will not have money from him?" she returned. "And don't you yet believe me? Did I take his sister's money? Would I touch a penny, if I knew it, that had gone through his white hands-unless, it was, indeed, that I could poison it, and send it back to him? Peace, mother, and come away."

"And him so rich?" murmured the old woman. "And us so poor!! "Poor in not being able to pay him any of the harm we owe him,” returned her daughter. "Let him give me that sort of riches, and I'll take them from him, and use them. Come away. It's no good looking at his horse. Come away, mother!"

But the old woman, for whom the spectacle of Rob the Grinder returning down the street, leading the riderless horse, appeared to have some extraneous interest that it did not possess in itself, surveyed that

young man with the utmost earnestness; and seeming to have whatever doubts she entertained,resolved as he drew nearer,glanced at her daughter with brightened eyes and with her finger on her lip, and emerging from the gateway at the moment of his passing, touched him on the shoulder. "Why, where's my sprightly Rob been, all this time?" she said, as he turned round.

The sprightly Rob, whose sprightliness was very much diminished by the salutation, looked exceedingly dismayed, and said, with the water rising in his eyes:

"Oh! why can't you leave a poor cove alone, Misses Brown, when he 's getting an honest livelihood and conducting himself respectable? What do you come and deprive a cove of his character for, by talking to him in the streets, when he's taking his master's horse to a honest stable a horse you'd go and sell for cats' and dogs' meat if you had your way? Why, I thought," said the Grinder, producing his concluding remark as if it were the climax of all his injuries, "that you was dead long ago?"

"This is the way," cried the old woman, appealing to her daughter, "that he talks to me, who knew him weeks and months together, my deary, and have stood his friend many and many a time among the pigeon-fancying tramps and bird-catchers."

"Let the birds be, will you, Misses Brown?" retorted Rob, in a tone of the acutest anguish. "I think a cove had better have to do with lions than them little creeturs, for they 're always flying back in your face when you least expect it. Well, how dy 'e do and what do you want!" These polite inquiries the Grinder uttered, as it were under protest, and with great exasperation and vindictiveness.

"Hark how he speaks to an old friend, my deary?" said Mrs. Brown, again appealing to her daughter." But there's some of his old friends not so patient as me. If I was to tell some that he knows, and has sported and cheated with, where to find him "

"Will you hold your tongue, Misses Brown?" interrupted the miserable Grinder, glancing quickly round, as though he expected to see his master's teeth shining at his elbow. "What do you take a pleasure in ruining a cove for? At your time of life too! when you ought to be thinking of a variety of things!"

"What a gallant horse!" said the old woman,patting the animal's neck. "Let him alone, will you Misses Brown?" cried Rob, pushing away her hand. "You 're enough to drive a penitent cove mad!"

"Why, what hurt do I do him, child?" returned the old woman. Hurt?" said Rob. "He's got a master that would find it out if he was touched with a straw." And he blew upon the place where the old woman's hand had rested for a moment, and smoothed it gently with his finger, as if he seriously believed what he said.

The old woman looking back to mumble and mouth at her daughter, who followed, kept close to Rob's heels as he walked on with the bridle in his hand; and pursued the conversation.

"A good place, Rob, eh?" said she. "You're in luck, my child." "Oh don't talk about luck, Misses Brown," returned the wretched Grinder, facing round and stopping. "If you'd never come, or if you'd go away, then indeed a cove might be considered tolerable lucky. Can't

you go along Misses Brown, and not follow me!" blubbered Rob, with sudden defiance. "If the young woman's a friend of yours, why don't she take you away, instead of letting you make yourself so disgraceful!" "What!" croaked the old woman, putting her face close to his, with a malevolent grin upon it that puckered up the loose skin down in her very throat, "Do you deny your old chum! Have you lurked to my house fifty times, and slept sound in a corner when you had no other bed but the paving-stones, and do you talk to me like this! Have I bought and sold with you, and helped you in my way of business, schoolboy, sneak, and what not, and do you tell me to go along? Could I raise a crowd of old company about you to-morrow morning, that would follow you to ruin like copies of your own shadow, and do you turn on me with your bold looks! I'll go. Come, Alice."

"Stop, Misses Brown!" cried the distracted Grinder. "What are you doing of? Don't put yourself in a passion! Don't let her go, if you please. I haven't meant any offence. I said, 'how d'ye do,' at first, didn't I? But you wouldn't answer. How do you do? Besides," said Rob piteously," look here! How can a cove stand talking in the street with his master's prad a wanting to be took to be rubbed down, and his master up to every individgle thing that happens!"

The old woman made a show of being partially appeased, but shook her head, and mouthed and muttered still.

"Come along to the stables, and have a glass of something that 's good for you, Misses Brown, can't you?" said Rob," instead of going on, like that, which is no good to you, nor anybody else? Come along with "I'm sure I'm delighted to see her, will you be so kind?" said Bob. her, if it wasn't for the horse!

With this apology, Rob turned away, a rueful picture of despair, and walked his charge down a bye street. The old woman, mouthing at her daughter, followed close upon him. The daughter followed.

Turning into a silent little square or court yard that had a great church tower rising above it, and a packer's warehouse, and a bottle-maker's warehouse, for its places of business, Rob the Grinder delivered the white-legged horse to the hostler of a quaint stable at the corner; and inviting Mrs. Brown and her daughter to seat themselves upon a stone bench at the gate of that establishment, soon reappeared from a neigh bouring public-house with a pewter measure and a glass.

"Here's master- Mr. Carker, child!" said the old woman, slowly, as her sentiment before drinking. "Lord bless him!"

Why, I didn't tell you who he was," observed Rob, with staring eyes. "We know him by sight," said Mrs. Brown, whose working mouth and nodding head, stopped for the moment, in the fixedness of her attention. "We saw him pass this morning, afore he got off his horse; when you were ready to take it.”

"Aye, aye?" returned Rob, appearing to wish that his readiness had carried him to any other place,-"What's the matter with her? Won't

she drink?"

This inquiry had reference to Alice, who, folded in her cloak, sat a little apart, profoundly inattentive to his offer of the replenished glass. The old woman shook her head. "Don't mind her," she said; "she's a strange creetur, if you know'd her, Rob. But Mr. Carker—”

"Hush!" said Rob, glancing cautiously up at the packer's, and at the bottle-maker's, as if, from any one of the tiers of warehouses, Mr. Carker might be looking down. "Softly."

Why, he ain't here!

cried Mrs. Brown.

"I don't know that," muttered Rob, whose glance even wandered to the church tower, as if he might be there, with a supernatural power of hearing.

"Good master? inquired Mrs. Brown,

Rob nodded; and added, in a low voice, "precious sharp." "Lives out of town, don't he, lovey?" said the old woman.

"When he 's,at home," returned Rob; "but we don't live at home just now."

"Where then?" asked the old woman.

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Lodgings; up near Mr. Dombey's," returned Rob.

The younger woman fixed her eyes so searchingly upon him, and so suddenly, that Rob was quite confounded, and offered the glass again, but with no more effect upon her than before.

"Mr. Dombey-you and I used to talk about him, sometimes, you know," said Rob to Mrs. Brown. "You used to get me to talk about him." The old woman nodded.

"Well, Mr. Dombey, he 's had a fall from his horse," said Rob, unwillingly; and my master has to be up there, more than usual, either with him, or Mrs. Dombey, or some of 'em ; and so we've come to town." "Are they good friends, lovey?" asked the old woman.

"Who?" retorted Bob.

"He and she? 99

"What, Mr. and Mrs. Dombey?" said Rob." How should I know!" "Not them-Master and Mrs. Dombey, chick," replied the old woman, coaxingly.

"I don't know," said Rob, looking round him again. "I suppose so. How curious you are, Misses Brown! Least said, soonest mended." "Why, there's no harm in it!" exclaimed the old woman, with a laugh, and a clap of her hands. "Sprightly Rob has grown tame since he has been well off! There's no harm in it."

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"No, there's no harm in it, I know," returned Rob, with the same distrustful glance at the packer's and the bottle-maker's, and the church; but blabbing, if it's only about the number of buttons on my master's coat, won't do I tell you it won't do with him. A cove had better drown himself. He says so. I shouldn't have so much as told you what his name was, if you hadn't known it. Talk about somebody else." As Rob took another cautious survey of the yard, the old woman made a secret motion to her daughter. It was momentary, but the daughter, with a slight look of intelligence, withdrew her eyes from the boy's face, and sat folded in her cloak as before.

"Rob, lovey!" said the old woman, beckoning him to the other end of the bench. "You were always a pet and favourite of mine. Now, weren't you? Don't you know you were?"

"Yes, Misses Brown," replied the Grinder, with a very bad grace. 66 And you could leave me !" said the old woman, flinging her arms about his neck. "You could go away, and grow almost out of knowledge, and never come to tell your poor old friend how fortunate you were, proud lad! Oho Oho!""