ng to
such an artificial and ungrateful state, that I begin to think there's
no Heart--or anything of that sort--left in it, positively. Withers is
more a child to me than you are. He attends to me much more than my own
daughter. I almost wish I didn't look so young--and all that kind of
thing--and then perhaps I should be more considered.'

'What would you have, mother?'

'Oh, a great deal, Edith,' impatiently.

'Is there anything you want that you have not? It is your own fault if
there be.'

'My own fault!' beginning to whimper. 'The parent I have been to you,
Edith: making you a companion from your cradle! And when you neglect me,
and have no more natural affection for me than if I was a stranger--not
a twentieth part of the affection that you have for Florence--but I am
only your mother, and should corrupt her in a day!--you reproach me with
its being my own fault.'

'Mother, mother, I reproach you with nothing. Why will you always dwell
on this?'

'Isn't it natural that I should dwell on this, when I am all affection
and sensitiveness, and am wounded in the cruellest way, whenever you
look at me?'

'I do not mean to wound you, mother. Have you no remembrance of what has
been said between us? Let the Past rest.'

'Yes, rest! And let gratitude to me rest; and let affection for me
rest; and let me rest in my out-of-the-way room, with no society and
no attention, while you find new relations to make much of, who have
no earthly claim upon you! Good gracious, Edith, do you know what an
elegant establishment you are at the head of?'

'Yes. Hush!'

'And that gentlemanly creature, Dombey? Do you know that you are married
to him, Edith, and that you have a settlement and a position, and a
carriage, and I don't know what?'

'Indeed, I know it, mother; well.'

'As you would have had with that delightful good soul--what did they
call him?--Granger--if he hadn't died. And who have you to thank for all
this, Edith?'

'You, mother; you.'

'Then put your arms round my neck, and kiss me; and show me, Edith,
that you know there never was a better Mama than I have been to you. And
don't let me become a perfect fright with teasing and wearing myself at
your ingratitude, or when I'm out again in society no soul will know me,
not even that hateful animal, the Major.'

But, sometimes, when Edith went nearer to her, and bending down her
stately head, Put her cold cheek to hers, the mother would draw back as
If she w