storm-driven ship through the sea of clouds.
All the house was gone to bed, except two servants who were waiting the
return of their mistress, downstairs.
One o'clock. The carriages that rumbled in the distance, turned away,
or stopped short, or went past; the silence gradually deepened, and was
more and more rarely broken, save by a rush of wind or sweep of rain.
Two o'clock. No Edith!
Florence, more agitated, paced her room; and paced the gallery outside;
and looked out at the night, blurred and wavy with the raindrops on the
glass, and the tears in her own eyes; and looked up at the hurry in
the sky, so different from the repose below, and yet so tranquil and
solitary. Three o'clock! There was a terror in every ash that dropped
out of the fire. No Edith yet.
More and more agitated, Florence paced her room, and paced the gallery,
and looked out at the moon with a new fancy of her likeness to a pale
fugitive hurrying away and hiding her guilty face. Four struck! Five! No
Edith yet.
But now there was some cautious stir in the house; and Florence found
that Mrs Pipchin had been awakened by one of those who sat up, had risen
and had gone down to her father's door. Stealing lower down the stairs,
and observing what passed, she saw her father come out in his morning
gown, and start when he was told his wife had not come home. He
dispatched a messenger to the stables to inquire whether the coachman
was there; and while the man was gone, dressed himself very hurriedly.
The man came back, in great haste, bringing the coachman with him, who
said he had been at home and in bed, since ten o'clock. He had driven
his mistress to her old house in Brook Street, where she had been met by
Mr Carker--
Florence stood upon the very spot where she had seen him coming down.
Again she shivered with the nameless terror of that sight, and had
hardly steadiness enough to hear and understand what followed.--Who had
told him, the man went on to say, that his mistress would not want the
carriage to go home in; and had dismissed him.
She saw her father turn white in the face, and heard him ask in a quick,
trembling voice, for Mrs Dombey's maid. The whole house was roused; for
she was there, in a moment, very pale too, and speaking incoherently.
She said she had dressed her mistress early--full two hours before she
went out--and had been told, as she often was, that she would not be
wanted at night. She had just come from her mis
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