e of Mrs
Dombey: always being very careful to publish on all possible occasions,
that she had nothing to say against her.

'Susan,' said Florence, who was sitting thoughtfully at her table, 'it
is very late. I shall want nothing more to-night.'

'Ah, Miss Floy!' returned the Nipper, 'I'm sure I often wish for them
old times when I sat up with you hours later than this and fell asleep
through being tired out when you was as broad awake as spectacles,
but you've ma's-in-law to come and sit with you now Miss Floy and I'm
thankful for it I'm sure. I've not a word to say against 'em.'

'I shall not forget who was my old companion when I had none, Susan,'
returned Florence, gently, 'never!' And looking up, she put her arm
round the neck of her humble friend, drew her face down to hers, and
bidding her good-night, kissed it; which so mollified Miss Nipper, that
she fell a sobbing.

'Now my dear Miss Floy, said Susan, 'let me go downstairs again and
see how your Pa is, I know you're wretched about him, do let me go
downstairs again and knock at his door my own self.'

'No,' said Florence, 'go to bed. We shall hear more in the morning.
I will inquire myself in the morning. Mama has been down, I daresay;'
Florence blushed, for she had no such hope; 'or is there now, perhaps.
Good-night!'

Susan was too much softened to express her private opinion on the
probability of Mrs Dombey's being in attendance on her husband, and
silently withdrew. Florence left alone, soon hid her head upon her hands
as she had often done in other days, and did not restrain the tears
from coursing down her face. The misery of this domestic discord and
unhappiness; the withered hope she cherished now, if hope it could be
called, of ever being taken to her father's heart; her doubts and fears
between the two; the yearning of her innocent breast to both; the heavy
disappointment and regret of such an end as this, to what had been a
vision of bright hope and promise to her; all crowded on her mind and
made her tears flow fast. Her mother and her brother dead, her father
unmoved towards her, Edith opposed to him and casting him away, but
loving her, and loved by her, it seemed as if her affection could never
prosper, rest where it would. That weak thought was soon hushed, but the
thoughts in which it had arisen were too true and strong to be dismissed
with it; and they made the night desolate.

Among such reflections there rose up, as there had risen u