 Chapter 45 of Dombie and Son this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recorded by Mill Nicholson Dombie and Son by Charles Dickens Chapter 45 The trusty agent Edith went out alone that day and returned home early. It was but a few minutes after ten o'clock when her carriage rolled along the street in which she lived. There was the same enforced composure on her face that there had been when she was dressing, and the wreath upon her head encircled the same cold and steady brow. But it would have been better to have seen its leaves and flowers refved into fragments by her passionate hand, or rendered shapeless by the fitful searches of a throbbing and bewildered brain for any resting place, than adorning such tranquility. So obdurate, so unapproachable, so unrelenting, one would have thought that nothing could soften such a woman's nature, and that everything in life had hardened it. Arrived at her own door, she was alighting, when someone coming quietly from the hall and standing bare-headed offered her his arm. The servant being thrust aside, she had no choice but to touch it, and she then knew whose arm it was. How is your patience, sir? She asked with a curled lip. He is better," returned Karka. He is doing very well. I have left him for the night. She bent her head and was passing up the staircase when he followed and said, speaking at the bottom, Madam, may I beg the favour of a minute's audience? She stopped and turned her eyes back. It is an unseasonable time, sir, and I am fatigued. Is your business urgent? It is very urgent," returned Karka. As I am so fortunate as to have met you, let me press my petition. She looked down for a moment at his glistening mouth, and he looked up at her, standing above him in her stately dress, and thought again how beautiful she was. Where is Miss Dombie? She asked the servant aloud. In the morning-room, ma'am, show the way there, turning her eyes again on the attentive gentleman at the bottom of the stairs, and informing him with a slight motion of her head that he was at liberty to follow. She passed on. I beg your pardon, madam. Mrs. Dombie, cried the soft and nimble Karka at her side in a moment, may I be permitted to entreat that Miss Dombie is not present? She confronted him with a quick look, but with the same self-possession and steadiness. I would spare Miss Dombie," said Karka in a low voice, the knowledge of what I have to say. At least, madam, I would leave it to you to decide whether she shall know of it or not. I owe that to you. It is my bounden duty to you. After our former interview it would be monstrous in me, if I did otherwise. She slowly withdrew her eyes from his face, and turning to the servant said, Some other room. He led the way to a drawing-room which he speedily lighted up, and then left them. While he remained, not a word was spoken. Edith enthroned herself upon a couch by the fire, and Mr. Karka with his hat in his hand and his eyes bent upon the carpet stood before her at some little distance. Before I hear you, sir," said Edith, when the door was closed, I wish you to hear me. To be addressed by Mrs. Dombie, he returned, even in accents of unmerited reproach, is an honour I so greatly esteem, that although I were not her servant in all things, I should defer to such a wish most readily. If you are charged by the man whom you have just now left, sir," Mr. Karka raised his eyes, as if he were going to counterfeit surprise, but she met them and stopped him, if such were his intention. With any message to me do not attempt to deliver it, for I will not receive it. I need scarcely ask you, if you are come on such an errand, I have expected you some time. It is my misfortune," he replied, to be here wholly against my will for such a purpose. Allow me to say that I am here for two purposes. That is one. That one, sir," she returned, is ended, or if you return to it, can Mrs. Dombie believe? said Karka, coming nearer, that I would return to it in the face of her prohibition? Is it possible that Mrs. Dombie, having no regard to my unfortunate position, is so determined to consider me inseparable from my instructor, as to do me great and willful injustice? Sir," returned Edith, bending her darker gaze full upon him, speaking with a rising passion that inflated her proud nostril and her swelling neck, and stirred the delicate white down upon a robe she wore, thrown loosely over shoulders that could bear its snowy neighbourhood. Why do you present yourself to me, as you have done, and speak to me of love and duty to my husband, and pretend to think that I am happily married and that I honour him? How dare you venture so to affront me, when you know I do not know better, sir? I have seen it in your every glance, and heard it in your every word, that in place of affection between us there is aversion and contempt, and that I despise him hardly less than I despise myself for being his. Injustice? If I had done justice to the torment you have made me feel, and to my sense of the insult you have put upon me, I should have slain you. She had asked him why he did this. Had she not been blinded by her pride and wrath and self-humiliation, which she was fiercely as she bent her gaze upon him, she would have seen the answer in his face, to bring her to this declaration. She saw it not, and cared not whether it was there or no. She saw only the indignities and struggles she had undergone and had to undergo, and was writhing under them. As she started looking fixedly at them, rather than at him, she plucked the feathers from opinion of some rare and beautiful bird which hung from her wrist by a golden thread to serve her as a fan, and rained them on the ground. He did not shrink beneath her gaze, but stood until such outward signs of her anger as had escaped her control subsided, with the air of a man who had his sufficient reply in reserve and would presently deliver it. And he then spoke, looking straight into her kindling eyes. Madam, he said, I know, and knew before to-day, that I have found no favour with you, and I knew why. Yes, I knew why. You have spoken so openly to me. I am so relieved by the possession of your confidence. Confidence? She repeated with disdain. He passed it over. That I will make no pretence of concealment. I did see from the first that there was no affection on your part for Mr. Dombie. How could it possibly exist between such different subjects? And I have seen since that stronger feelings than indifference have been engendered in your breast. How could that possibly be otherwise, either? Circumstanced as you have been. But was it for me to presume to avow this knowledge to you in so many words? Was it for you, sir? She replied, to feign that other belief, and audaciously to thrust it on me day by day. Madam, it was, he eagerly retorted. If I had done less, if I had done anything but that, I should not be speaking to you thus. And I foresaw who could better foresee, for who has had greater experience of Mr. Dombie than myself. And that, unless your character should prove to be as yielding and obedient as that of his first submissive lady, which I did not believe, a haughty smile gave him reason to observe that he might repeat this. I say, which I did not believe, the time was likely to come when such an understanding, as we have now arrived at, would be serviceable. Serviceable to whom, sir? She demanded scornfully. To you! I will not add to myself as warning me to refrain even from that limited commendation of Mr. Dombie, in which I can honestly indulge, in order that I may not have the misfortune of saying anything distasteful to one whose aversion and contempt, with great expression, are so keen. Is it honest in you, sir? Said Edith, to confess to your limited commendation and to speak in that tone of disparagement, even of him being his chief counsellor and flatterer. Counsellor, yes, said Karka. Flatterer? No. A little reservation, I fear, I must confess to. But our interest and convenience commonly oblige many of us to make professions that we cannot feel. We have partnerships of interest and convenience, friendships of interest and convenience, dealings of interest and convenience, marriages of interest and convenience, every day. She bit her blood-red lip, but without wavering in the dark, stern watch she kept upon him. Madam! said Mr. Karka, sitting down in a chair that was near her, with an air of the most profound and most considerate respect. Why should I hesitate now, being altogether devoted to your service, to speak plainly? It was natural that a lady, endowed as you are, should think it feasible to change her husband's character in some respects, and mould him to a better form. It was not natural to me, sir, she rejoined, I had never any expectation or intention of that kind. The proud, undaunted face showed him it was resolute to wear no mask he offered, but was set upon a reckless disclosure of itself, indifferent to any aspect in which it might present itself to such as he. At least it was natural, he assumed, that you should deem it quite possible to live with Mr. Donby as his wife, at once without submitting to him, and without coming into such violent collision with him. But, Madam, you did not know Mr. Donby, as you have since ascertained, when you thought that. You did not know how exacting or proud he is, or how he is, if I may say so, the slave of his own greatness, and goes yoked to his own triumphal car like a beast of burden. There's no idea on earth, but that it is behind him, and is to be drawn on, over everything and through everything. His teeth gleamed through his malicious relish of this conceit, as he went on talking. Mr. Donby is really capable of no more true consideration for you, Madam, than for me. The comparison is an extreme one. I intend it to be so, but quite just. Mr. Donby, in the plenitude of his power, asked me, I had it from his own lips yesterday morning, to be his go-between to you, because he knows I am not agreeable to you, and because he intends that I shall be a punishment for your contumacy. And besides that, because he really does consider that I, his paid servant, am an ambassador, whom it is derogatory to the dignity, not of the lady to whom I have the happiness of speaking, she has no existence in his mind, but of his wife, the part of himself to receive. You may imagine how, regardless of me, how obtuse to the possibility of my having any individual sentiment or opinion he is, when he tells me openly that I am so employed. You know how perfectly indifferent to your feelings he is when he threatens you with such a messenger, as you, of course, have not forgotten that he did. She watched him still attentively, but he watched her too, and he saw that this indication of a knowledge on his part, of something that had passed between herself and her husband, rankled and smarted in her haughty breast, like a poisoned arrow. I do not recall all this to widen the breach between yourself and Mr. Donby-Madame, heaven forbid. What would it profit me? But as an example of the hopelessness of impressing Mr. Donby with the sense that anybody is to be considered when he is in question, we who are about him have, in our various positions, done our part, I daresay, to confirm him in his way of thinking. But if we had not done so, others would. Or they would not have been about him. And it has always been from the beginning the very staple of his life. Mr. Donby has had to deal, in short, with non-but submissive and dependent persons who have bowed the knee and bent the neck before him. He has never known what it is to have angry pride and strong resentment opposed to him. We will know it now," she seemed to say, though her lips did not part nor her eyes falter. He saw the soft down tremble once again, and he saw her lay the plumage of the beautiful bird against her bosom for a moment, and he unfolded one more ring of the coil into which he had gathered himself. Mr. Donby, though a most honorable gentleman, he said, is so prone to pervert even facts to his own view when he is at all opposed in consequence of the warp in his mind that he, can I give a better instance of this, he sincerely believes you will excuse the folly of what I am about to say, it not being mine, that his severe expression of opinion of his present wife on a certain special occasion, she may remember, before the lamented death of Mrs. Scootin, produced a withering effect, and for the moment, quite subdued her. Edith laughed, how harshly and unmusically need not be described. It is enough that he was glad to hear her. Madam, he resumed, I have done with this. Your own opinions are so strong, and I am persuaded so unalterable. He repeated those words slowly, and with great emphasis, that I am almost afraid to incur your displeasure anew, when I say that in spite of these defects and my full knowledge of them, I have become habituated to Mr. Dombie, and esteem him. But when I say so, it is not believe me, for the mere sake of wanting a feeling that is so utterly at variance with your own, and for which you can have no sympathy. Oh, how distinct and plain and emphasised this was, but to give you an assurance of the zeal with which, in this unhappy matter, I am yours, and the indignation with which I regard the part I am to fill. She sat as if you were afraid to take her eyes from his face, and now to unwind the last ring of the coil. It is growing late, said Karka after a pause, and you are, as you said, fatigued. But the second object of this interview I must not forget. I must recommend you, I must entreat you in the most earnest manner, for sufficient reasons that I have, to be cautious in your demonstrations of regard for Mr. Dombie. Cautious? What do you mean? To be careful how you exhibit too much affection for that young lady. Too much affection, sir? said Edith, knitting her broad brow and rising. Who judges my affection or measures it out? You? It is not I who do so. He was, or feigned, to be perplexed. Who, then? Can you not guess? Who, then? I do not choose to guess, she answered. Madam, he said, after a little hesitation, meantime they had been and still were, regarding each other as before. I am in a difficulty here. You have told me you will receive no message and you have forbidden me to return to that subject. But the two subjects are so closely entwined that I find that unless you will accept this vague caution from one who has now the honour to possess your confidence, though the way to it has been through your displeasure, I must violate the injunction you have laid upon me. You know that you are free to do so, sir, said Edith, do it. So pale, so trembling, so impassioned, he had not miscalculated the effect, then. His instructions were, he said, in a low voice, that I should inform you that your demeanour towards Miss Dombie is not agreeable to him, that it suggests comparisons to him which are not favourable to himself, that he desires it may be wholly changed, and that if you are in earnest he is confident it will be, for your continued show of affection will not benefit its object. That is a threat, she said. That is a threat. He answered in his voiceless manner of assent, adding aloud, but not directed against you, proud, erect and dignified as she stood confronting him, and looking through him as she did, with her full bright flashing eye, and smiling as she was with scorn and bitterness. She sunk, as if the ground had dropped beneath her, and in an instant would have fallen on the floor, at that he caught her in his arms. As instantaneously she threw him off, the moment that he touched her, and, drawing back, confronted him again, immovable, with her hand stretched out. Please, to leave me, say no more to-night. I feel the urgency of this, said Mr. Karka, because it is impossible to say what unforeseen consequences might arise, or how soon, from your being unacquainted with his state of mind. I understand Miss Domby is concerned now at the dismissal of her old servant, which is likely to have been a minor consequence in itself. You don't blame me for requesting that Miss Domby might not be present? May I hope so? I do not. Please, to leave me, sir. I knew that your regard for the young lady, which is very sincere and strong, I am well persuaded, would render it a great unhappiness to you, ever to be a prey to the reflection that you had injured her position and ruined her future hopes, said Karka hurriedly, but eagerly. No more to-night. Leave me if you please. I shall be here constantly in my attendance upon him and in the transaction of business matters. You will allow me to see you again, to consult what should be done, and learn your wishes. She motioned him towards the door. I cannot even decide whether to tell him I have spoken to you yet, or to lead him to suppose that I have deferred doing so for want of opportunity or for any other reason. It will be necessary that you should enable me to consult with you very soon. At any time but now, she answered, you will understand when I wish to see you that Miss Dombie is not to be present, and that I seek an interview as one who has the happiness to possess your confidence and who comes to render you every assistance in his power and, perhaps, on many occasions, to ward off evil from her. Looking at him still with the same apparent dread of releasing him for a moment from the influence of her steady gaze, whatever that might be, she answered, yes, and once more, bait him go. He bowed as if in compliance, but turning back when he had nearly reached the door, said, I am forgiven and have explained my fault. May I, for Miss Dombie's sake and for my own, take your hand before I go. She gave him the gloved hand she had maimed last night. He took it in one of his and kissed it and withdrew. And when he had closed the door, he waved the hand with which he had taken hers and thrust it in his breast. Edith saw no one that night, but locked her door and kept herself alone. She did not weep. She showed no greater agitation outwardly than when she was riding home. She laid as proud ahead upon her pillow as she had borne in her carriage, and her prayer ran thus. May this man be a liar. For if he has spoken the truth, she is lost to me. And I have no hope left. This man, meanwhile, went home musing to bed, thinking with a dainty pleasure how imperious her passion was, how she had sat before him in her beauty, with the dark eyes that had never turned away, but once, how the white down had fluttered, the bird's feathers had been strewn upon the ground. End of Chapter 45 Chapter 46 of Dombey and Son This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recorded by Mill Nicholson Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens Chapter 46 Recognizant and Reflective Among sundry minor alterations in Mr. Karker'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 link's eyed vigilance now increased twentyfold. Not only did his weary 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. Karker, 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 himself 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 acuteness of their managing gentlemen in the city. The same increased and sharp attention that Mr. Karker 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 Dombie, he was in the receipt of some percentage 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 Karker of Dombies 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 stuck exchange that Jem was going to marry a rich widow. Yet these cares did not in the least interfere with Mr. Karker's watching of his chief, or with his cleanness, neatness, sleetness, or any cat-like 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. Dombie'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 a rival at his destination, or some sudden chance or effort roused him. Walking his white-legged horse thus to the counting-house of Dombie and Sun 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 shriveled 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 for the 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 horse back 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. Dearly, said the old woman then, Alice, handsome girl, Ali she gently shook her sleeve to arouse her attention. Will you let him go like that when you can ring money from him? 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, ah, 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! There'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 bridaless horse, appeared to have some extraneous interest that it did not possess in itself. It 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, who 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 cow alone, Mrs. Brown, when he's getting an honest livelihood and conducting himself respectable? Would you come and deprive a cow of his character for by talking to him in the streets when he's taking his master's horse to an honest stable? A horse you'd go and sell for cats and dogs meat if you had your way? 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 dearie, and I've stood his friend many and many a time among the pigeon-fencing tramps and bird-catchers. Hit the bird's bee, were you, Mrs. Brown?" retorted Robin a tone of the acutest anguish. I think the cow a bit have to do with lions than them little creatures, for they're always flying back in your face when you least expect it. Well, how do you do and what do you want? These polite inquiries the grinder uttered as it were under protest and with great exasperation and vindictiveness. Ah, can he speaks to an old friend, my dearie," said Mrs. Brown, again appealing to her daughter, that there's some of his old friends not so patient as me. If I was to tell some that he knows and is spotted and cheated with, where to find him? Will you hold your tongue, Mrs. Brown?" Interrupted the miserable grinder, glancing quickly round as though he wanted to see his master's teeth shining at his elbow. What do you take a pleasure in ruin 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, Mrs. Brown? cried Rob, pushing away her hand. You're enough to drive a pennant and 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 attached 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. Ow! Don't talk about luck, Mrs. Brown! returned the wretched grinder, facing round and stopping. If you never come, or if you go away, then indeed a cove might be considered a horrible lackey. Can't you go along, Mrs. 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 who 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 tomorrow morning to 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, Mrs. Brown! cried the distracted grinder. What are you a-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 you do at first, didn't I? But you wouldn't answer. What did you do? Besides? said Rob piteously. Look at her! Out in a cow stand talking in the street with his master's bread, a wanting to be took to be rubbed down, and his master up to every individual 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, Mrs. Brown, can't you? said Rob. Instead of going on like that, which is no good to you nor anybody else, come along with her. Will you be so kind? said Rob. I'm sure I'm delighted to see her if it wasn't for the orse. With this apology Rob turned away, a rueful picture of despair, and walked his charge down a by-street. The old woman, mouthing at her daughter, rose upon him. The daughter followed. Turning into a silent little square or courtyard 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 hustler 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 neighbouring public house with a pewter measure and a glass. Here's Master, Mr. Carker Child, said the old woman slowly at her sentiment before drinking. Lord bless him. Why, why didn't tell you he was? observed Rob with staring eyes. We know him by sight, said Mrs. Brown, whose working mouth and nodding head stop for the moment in the fixedness of her attention. We saw him pass this morning before he got off his horse and 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, inattentive to his offer of the replenished glass. The old woman shook her head. Don't mind her, she said. She's a strange creature, if you've known her, Rob. But Mr. Carker Hush, said Rob, glancing cautiously up at the packers and at the bottle-makers as if from any one of the tears of warehouses Mr. Carker might be looking down. Softly. Why, he ain't here. cried Mrs. Brown. I don't know that. Noted Rob, whose glance even wandered to the church tower, as if he might be there with a supernatural power of hearing. Good master. cried Mrs. Brown. Rob nodded and added in a low voice. Precious shop. 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. Lodgins, up near Mr. Donby's. returned Rob. The younger woman fixed her eyes so searchingly upon him, and so suddenly, the drop was quite confounded and offered the glass again, but with no more effect upon her than before. Mr. Donby, 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. Donby, 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 with Mrs. Donby, or some of them, and so we've come to town. Are they good friends, lovey? asked the old woman. Who? retorted Rob. He and she. What? Mr. and Mrs. Donby? said Rob. How shall I know? Not them. Master and Mrs. Donby, chick, replied the old woman coaxingly. I don't know. said Rob, looking round him again. I suppose so. How curious you are, Mrs. Brown. Least said, soon it's mended. Why, there's no harm in it. exclaimed the old woman with a laugh and a clap of her hands. Spritely Rob, has grown tame since he has been well off. There's no harm in it. No, there's no harm in it, or no. returned Rob with the same distrustful glance at the packers and the bottle-makers and the church. But Blabbin, if it's only about a number of battens on my master's coat, won't do. I'll 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 it with somebody else. As Rob took another cautious survey of the yard, the old woman made a secret motion to her daughter. It was momentary, 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 of hats and favourite of mine, now weren't you? Don't you know you were? Yes, Mrs. Brown, replied the grinder with a very bad grace. 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. Oh, oh, oh, oh! Oh! He said Jed will go for a cove as got a master wide awake in the neighbourhood, exclaimed the wretched grinder, to be held over like this ear. Oh, won't you come and see me, Robbie? cried Mrs. Brown. Oh, won't you ever come and see me? Yes, I tell you, yes I will, returned the grinder. That's my own Rob. That's my lovey, said Mrs. Brown, drying the tears upon her shriveled face and giving him a tender squeeze. At the old place, Rob, yes, replied the grinder, soon, Robbie dear, cried Mrs. Brown, and often, yes, yes, yes, replied Rob, I will indeed, upon my silent body. And then, said Mrs. Brown, with her arms up lifted towards the sky and to her head thrown back and shaking, if he's true to his word, I'll never come near him, though I know where he is, and never breathe a syllable about him, never. This ejaculation seemed a drop of comfort to the miserable grinder, who shook Mrs. Brown by the hand upon it, and implored her with tears in his eyes to leave a cove and not destroy his prospects. Mrs. Brown, with another fond embrace, assented, but in the act of following her daughter turned back with her finger stealthily raised and asked in a horse whisper for some money. A shillen, dear, she said with her eager, avaricious face, all sixpence for old acquaintance's sake, I'm so poor, am I, and some girl, looking over her shoulder, she's my gal, Rob, off-staves me. But as the reluctant grinder put it in her hand, her daughter coming quietly back, caught the hand in hers, and twisted out the cowing. What? She said, mother, always money, money from the first and to the last. Do you mind so little what I said but now? Here, take it. The old woman uttered a moan as the money was restored. But without in any other way opposing its restoration, hobbled at her daughter's side out of the yard, the by-street upon which it opened. The astonished and dismayed Rob staring after them saw that they stopped and fell to earnest conversation very soon, and more than once observed a darkly threatening action of the younger woman's hand, obviously having reference to someone of whom they spoke, and a crooning, feeble imitation of it on the part of Mrs. Brown, that made him earnestly hope he might not be the subject of their discourse. With the present consolation that they were gone and with the prospective comfort that Mrs. Brown could not live for ever and was not likely to live long to trouble him, the grinder not otherwise regretting his misdeeds than as they were attended with such disagreeable incidental consequences composed his ruffled features to a more serene expression by thinking of the admirable manner in which he had disposed of Captain Cuttle, a reflection that seldom failed in the flow of spirits, and went to the Donby counting-house to receive his master's orders. There his master, so subtle and vigilant of eye, that Rob quaked before him more than half expecting to be taxed with Mrs. Brown, gave him the usual morning's box of papers for Mr. Donby, and a note for Mrs. Donby, merely nodding his head as an enjoinder to be careful and to use dispatch, his imagination with dismal warnings and threats, and more powerful with him than any words. Alone again in his own room Mr. Carker applied himself to work and worked all day. He saw many visitors, overlooked a number of documents, went in and out, to and from sundry places of mercantile resort, and indulged in no more abstraction until the day's business was done. But, when the usual clearance of papers from his table was made at last, he fell into his thoughtful mood once more. He was standing in his accustomed place and attitude with his eyes intently fixed upon the ground, when his brother entered to bring back some letters that had been taken out in the course of the day. He put them quietly on the table and was going immediately when Mr. Carker, the manager whose eyes had rested on him on his entrance as if they had all this time had him for the subject of their contemplation to the office floor, said, Well, John Carker, and what brings you here? His brother pointed to the letters and was again withdrawing. I wonder, said the manager, that you can come and go without inquiring how our master is. We had word this morning in the counting-house that Mr. Dombie was doing well, replied his brother. You are such a meek fellow, said the manager with a smile. But you have grown so in the course of years that if any harm came to him you'd be miserable. I dare swear now. I should be truly sorry, James, returned the other. He would be sorry, said the manager, pointing at him as if there were some other person present to whom he was appealing. You would be truly sorry, this brother of mine, this junior of the place, this slighted piece of lumber, pushed aside with his face to the wall, like a rotten picture, and left so, for heaven knows how many years he's all gratitude and respect and devotion to, he would have me believe. I would have you believe nothing, James, returned the other. Be as just to me as you would do any other man below you. You ask a question and I answer it. And have you nothing spaniel, said the manager with unusual erusability to complain of in him, no proud treatment to resent, no insolence, no foolery of state, no exection of any sort. What the devil, are you man or mouse? It would be strange if any two persons could be together for so many years, especially as superior and inferior, without each having something to complain of in the other, as he thought at all events, replied John Carca. But apart from my history here, his history here, explained the manager, why there it is, the very fact that makes him an extreme case puts him out of the whole chapter. Well, apart from that, which, as you hint, gives me a reason to be thankful that I alone, happily for all the rest, possess, surely there is no one in the house who would not say and feel at least as much. You do not think that anybody here would be indifferent to a mischance or misfortune happening to the head of the house or anything and truly sorry for it. You have good reason to be bound to him too, said the manager contemptuously. Why, don't you believe that you are kept here as a cheap example and a famous instance of the clemency of Donby and Son, redounding to the credit of the illustrious house? No, replied his brother mildly. I have long believed that I am kept here for more kind and disinterested reasons. But you are going, said the manager with a snarl of a tiger-cat, to recite some Christian precept I observed. Nay, James, returned the other, though the tie of brotherhood between us has been long broken and thrown away. Who broke it, good sir? said the manager. Nay, by my misconduct I do not charge it upon you. The manager replied with that mute action of his bristling mouth. Oh, you don't charge it upon me and bade him go on. I say, though there is not that tie between us, do not I entreat, assail me with unnecessary taunts or misinterpret what I say I was only going to suggest to you that it would be a mistake to suppose that it is only you who have been selected here above all others for advancement, confidence and distinction selected in the beginning I know for your great ability and trustfulness and who communicate more freely with Mr. Donby than any one and stand, it may be said, on equal terms with him and have been favoured and enriched that it would be a mistake to suppose that it is only you who are tender of his welfare and reputation there is no one in the house from yourself down to the lowest I sincerely believe who does not participate in that feeling you lie said the manager red with sudden anger you're a hypocrite John Carca and you lie James cried the other flushing in his turn what do you mean by these insulting words why do you so basely use them to me unprovoked I tell you said the manager that your hypocrisy and meekness that all the hypocrisy and meekness of this place is not worth that to me snapping his thumb and finger and that I see through it as if it were air there is not a man employed here standing between myself and the lowest in place of whom you are very considerate and with reason for he is not far off who wouldn't be glad at heart to see his master humbled who does not hate him secretly who does not wish him evil rather than good and who would not turn upon him if he had the power and boldness the nearer to his favour the nearer to his insolence the closer to him the farther from him that's the creed here don't know said his brother whose roused feelings had soon yielded to surprise who may have abused your ear with such representations or why you have chosen to try me rather than another but that you have been trying me and tempering with me I am now sure you have a different manner and a different aspect from any that I ever saw in you I will only say to you once more you are deceived I know I am said the manager I have told you so not by me returned his brother by your informant if you have one if not by your own thoughts suspicions I have no suspicions said the manager mine are certainties you pusillanimous abject cringing dogs all making the same show all canting the same story all whining the same professions all harboring the same transparent secret his brother withdrew without saying more and shut the door as he concluded Mr. Karker the manager drew a chair close before the fire and fell to beating the coals softly with the poker their faint hearted fawning names he muttered with his two shining rows of teeth laid bare there's not one among them who wouldn't feign to be so shocked and outraged there's not one among them but if he had at once the power and the wit and daring to use it would scatter Dombie's pride and lay it low as ruthlessly as I rake out these ashes as he broke them up and stood them in the grate he looked on with a thoughtful smile at what he was doing without the same queen beckoner too he added presently and there is pride there to be forgotten witness our own acquaintance with that he fell into a deeper reverie and sat pondering over the blackening grate until he rose up like a man who had been absorbed in a book and looking round him took his hat and gloves went to where his horse was waiting mounted and rode away through the lighted streets for it was evening he rode near Mr. Dombie's house and falling into a walk as he approached it looked up at the windows the window where he had once seen Florence sitting with her dog attracted his attention first though there was no light in it but he smiled as he carried his eyes up the tall front of the house and seemed to leave that object superciliously behind time was he said when it was well to watch even your rising little star and know in what quarter there were clouds to shadow you if needful but our planet has arisen and you are lost in its light he turned the white-legged horse round the street corner and sought one shining window from among those at the back of the house associated with it was a certain stately presence a gloved hand the remembrance how the feathers wing had been showered down upon the floor and how the light white down upon a robe had stirred and rustled as in the rising of a distant storm these were the things he carried with him as he turned away again and rode through the darkening and deserted parks at a quick rate in fatal truth these were associated with the woman a proud woman who hated him but who by slow and sure degrees had been led on by his craft and her pride and resentment to endure his company and little by little to receive him as one who had the privilege to talk to her of her own defiant disregard of her own husband and her abandonment of high consideration for herself they were associated with the woman who hated him deeply and who knew him and who mistrusted him because she knew him and because he knew her but who fed her fierce resentment by suffering him to draw nearer and yet nearer to her every day in spite of the hate she cherished for him in spite of it for that very reason since in its depths too far down for her threatening eye to pierce though she could see into them dimly lay the dark retaliation whose faintest shadow seen once and shuddered at and never seen again would have been sufficient stain upon her soul did the phantom of such a woman flit about him on his ride true to the reality and obvious to him yes he saw her in his mind exactly as she was she bore him company with her pride resentment hatred all as plain to him as her beauty with nothing plainer to him the hatred of him he saw her sometimes haughty and repellent at his side and sometimes down among his horse's feet fawn and in the dust but he always saw her as she was without disguise and watched her on the dangerous way that she was going and when his ride was over and he was newly dressed and came into the light of her bright room with his bent head soft voice and soothing smile he saw her yet as plainly he even suspected the mystery of the gloved hand and held it all along in his own for that suspicion upon the dangerous way that she was going he was still and not a footprint did she mark upon it but he set his own there straight end of chapter 46