Dombey and Son

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 of⁠—of 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, upstairs.”

“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 tended 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