Dombey and Son - The Original Classic Edition. Dickens Charles

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Dombey and Son - The Original Classic Edition - Dickens Charles


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became spasmodic.

       'I knew you would admire my brother. I told you so beforehand, my dear,' said Louisa. Miss Tox's hands and eyes expressed how much. 'And as to his property, my dear!'

       'Ah!' said Miss Tox, with deep feeling. 'Immense!'

       'But his deportment, my dear Louisa!' said Miss Tox. 'His presence! His dignity! No portrait that I have ever seen of anyone has been half so replete with those qualities. Something so stately, you know: so uncompromising: so very wide across the chest: so upright! A pecuniary Duke of York, my love, and nothing short of it!' said Miss Tox. 'That's what I should designate him.'

       'Why, my dear Paul!' exclaimed his sister, as he returned, 'you look quite pale! There's nothing the matter?'

       'I am sorry to say, Louisa, that they tell me that Fanny--'

       'Now, my dear Paul,' returned his sister rising, 'don't believe it. Do not allow yourself to receive a turn unnecessarily. Remember of what importance you are to society, and do not allow yourself to be worried by what is so very inconsiderately told you by people who ought to know better. Really I'm surprised at them.'

       'I hope I know, Louisa,' said Mr Dombey, stiffly, 'how to bear myself before the world.'

       'Nobody better, my dear Paul. Nobody half so well. They would be ignorant and base indeed who doubted it.'

       'Ignorant and base indeed!' echoed Miss Tox softly.

       'But,' pursued Louisa, 'if you have any reliance on my experience, Paul, you may rest assured that there is nothing wanting but an effort on Fanny's part. And that effort,' she continued, taking off her bonnet, and adjusting her cap and gloves, in a businesslike manner, 'she must be encouraged, and really, if necessary, urged to make. Now, my dear Paul, come upstairs with me.'

       Mr Dombey, who, besides being generally influenced by his sister for the reason already mentioned, had really faith in her as an experienced and bustling matron, acquiesced; and followed her, at once, to the sick chamber.

       The lady lay upon her bed as he had left her, clasping her little daughter to her breast. The child clung close about her, with the same intensity as before, and never raised her head, or moved her soft cheek from her mother's face, or looked on those who stood around, or spoke, or moved, or shed a tear.

       'Restless without the little girl,' the Doctor whispered Mr Dombey. 'We found it best to have her in again.'

       'Can nothing be done?' asked Mr Dombey.

       The Doctor shook his head. 'We can do no more.'

       The windows stood open, and the twilight was gathering without.

       The scent of the restoratives that had been tried was pungent in the room, but had no fragrance in the dull and languid air the lady

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       breathed.

       There was such a solemn stillness round the bed; and the two medical attendants seemed to look on the impassive form with so

       much compassion and so little hope, that Mrs Chick was for the moment diverted from her purpose. But presently summoning courage, and what she called presence of mind, she sat down by the bedside, and said in the low precise tone of one who endeavours to awaken a sleeper:

       'Fanny! Fanny!'

       There was no sound in answer but the loud ticking of Mr Dombey's watch and Doctor Parker Peps's watch, which seemed in the silence to be running a race.

       'Fanny, my dear,' said Mrs Chick, with assumed lightness, 'here's Mr Dombey come to see you. Won't you speak to him? They want to lay your little boy- -the baby, Fanny, you know; you have hardly seen him yet, I think--in bed; but they can't till you rouse yourself a little. Don't you think it's time you roused yourself a little? Eh?'

       She bent her ear to the bed, and listened: at the same time looking round at the bystanders, and holding up her finger.

       'Eh?' she repeated, 'what was it you said, Fanny? I didn't hear you.'

       No word or sound in answer. Mr Dombey's watch and Dr Parker Peps's watch seemed to be racing faster.

       'Now, really, Fanny my dear,' said the sister-in-law, altering her position, and speaking less confidently, and more earnestly, in spite of herself, 'I shall have to be quite cross with you, if you don't rouse yourself. It's necessary for you to make an effort, and perhaps a very great and painful effort which you are not disposed to make; but this is a world of effort you know, Fanny, and we must never yield, when so much depends upon us. Come! Try! I must really scold you if you don't!'

       The race in the ensuing pause was fierce and furious. The watches seemed to jostle, and to trip each other up.

       'Fanny!' said Louisa, glancing round, with a gathering alarm. 'Only look at me. Only open your eyes to show me that you hear and understand me; will you? Good Heaven, gentlemen, what is to be done!'

       The two medical attendants exchanged a look across the bed; and the Physician, stooping down, whispered in the child's ear. Not having understood the purport of his whisper, the little creature turned her perfectly colourless face and deep dark eyes towards him; but without loosening her hold in the least.

       The whisper was repeated.

       'Mama!' said the child.

       The little voice, familiar and dearly loved, awakened some show of consciousness, even at that ebb. For a moment, the closed eye lids trembled, and the nostril quivered, and the faintest shadow of a smile was seen.

       'Mama!' cried the child sobbing aloud. 'Oh dear Mama! oh dear Mama!'

       The Doctor gently brushed the scattered ringlets of the child, aside from the face and mouth of the mother. Alas how calm they lay there; how little breath there was to stir them!

       Thus, clinging fast to that slight spar within her arms, the mother drifted out upon the dark and unknown sea that rolls round all the world.

       CHAPTER 2. In which Timely Provision is made for an Emergency that will sometimes arise in the best-regulated Families

       'I shall never cease to congratulate myself,' said Mrs Chick,' on having said, when I little thought what was in store for us,--really as

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       if I was inspired by something,--that I forgave poor dear Fanny everything. Whatever happens, that must always be a comfort to me!'

       Mrs Chick made this impressive observation in the drawingroom, after having descended thither from the inspection of the

       mantua-makers upstairs, who were busy on the family mourning. She delivered it for the behoof of Mr Chick, who was a stout bald gentleman, with a very large face, and his hands continually in his pockets, and who had a tendency in his nature to whistle and hum tunes, which, sensible of the indecorum of such sounds in a house of grief, he was at some pains to repress at present.

       'Don't you over-exert yourself, Loo,' said Mr Chick, 'or you'll be laid up with spasms, I see. Right tol loor rul! Bless my soul, I forgot! We're here one day and gone the next!'

       Mrs Chick contented herself with a glance of reproof, and then proceeded with the thread of her discourse.

       'I am sure,' she said, 'I hope this heart-rending occurrence will be a warning to all of us, to accustom ourselves to rouse ourselves, and to make efforts in time where they're required of us. There's a moral in everything, if we would only avail ourselves of it. It will be our own faults if we lose sight of this one.'

       Mr Chick invaded the grave silence which ensued on this remark with the singularly inappropriate air of 'A cobbler there was;' and checking himself, in some confusion, observed, that it was undoubtedly our own faults if we didn't improve such melancholy occasions as the present.

       'Which might be better improved, I should think, Mr C.,' retorted his helpmate, after a short pause, 'than by the introduction, either of the college hornpipe, or the equally unmeaning and unfeeling remark of rump-te-iddity, bow-wow-wow!'--which Mr Chick had indeed indulged in, under his breath, and which Mrs Chick repeated in a tone of withering scorn.

       'Merely habit, my dear,' pleaded Mr Chick.

       'Nonsense! Habit!' returned his wife.


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