new to him' Mr Dombey thought,
as his eyes followed her to the door.

He sat in his shadowy corner so long, that the church clocks struck the
hour three times before he moved that night. All that while his face was
still intent upon the spot where Florence had been seated. The room grew
darker, as the candles waned and went out; but a darkness gathered on
his face, exceeding any that the night could cast, and rested there.

Florence and Edith, seated before the fire in the remote room where
little Paul had died, talked together 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 expression 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, Mama! 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?'

'He was my brother, Mama. After dear Paul died, we said we would be
brother and sister. I had known him a long time--from a little child. He
knew Paul, who liked him very much; Paul said, almost at the last, "Take
care of Walter, dear Papa! I was fond of him!" Walter had been brought
in to see him, and was there then--in this 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 tel