cance, Miss Tox was from that hour chosen and appointed to
office; and Mr Dombey further signified his pleasure that the ceremony,
already long delayed, should take place without further postponement.
His sister, who had been far from anticipating so signal a success,
withdrew as soon as she could, to communicate it to her best of friends;
and Mr Dombey was left alone in his library. He had already laid his
hand upon the bellrope to convey his usual summons to Richards, when his
eye fell upon a writing-desk, belonging to his deceased wife, which had
been taken, among other things, from a cabinet in her chamber. It was
not the first time that his eye had lighted on it He carried the key
in his pocket; and he brought it to his table and opened it now--having
previously locked the room door--with a well-accustomed hand.

From beneath a leaf of torn and cancelled scraps of paper, he took one
letter that remained entire. Involuntarily holding his breath as he
opened this document, and 'bating in the stealthy action something of
his arrogant demeanour, he sat down, resting his head upon one hand,
and read it through.

He read it slowly and attentively, and with a nice particularity
to every syllable. Otherwise than as his great deliberation seemed
unnatural, and perhaps the result of an effort equally great, he allowed
no sign of emotion to escape him. When he had read it through, he
folded and refolded it slowly several times, and tore it carefully into
fragments. Checking his hand in the act of throwing these away, he put
them in his pocket, as if unwilling to trust them even to the chances
of being re-united and deciphered; and instead of ringing, as usual, for
little Paul, he sat solitary, all the evening, in his cheerless room.

There was anything but solitude in the nursery; for there, Mrs Chick and
Miss Tox were enjoying a social evening, so much to the disgust of Miss
Susan Nipper, that that young lady embraced every opportunity of making
wry faces behind the door. Her feelings were so much excited on the
occasion, that she found it indispensable to afford them this relief,
even without having the comfort of any audience or sympathy whatever.
As the knight-errants of old relieved their minds by carving their
mistress's names in deserts, and wildernesses, and other savage places
where there was no probability of there ever being anybody to read them,
so did Miss Susan Nipper curl her snub nose into drawers and wardrob