ce wanted him.

There was an entire change in the Captain's face as he went upstairs. He
wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, and he polished the bridge of his
nose with his sleeve as he had done already that morning, but his face
was absolutely changed. Now, he might have been thought supremely happy;
now, he might have been thought sad; but the kind of gravity that sat
upon his features was quite new to them, and was as great an improvement
to them as if they had undergone some sublimating process.

He knocked softly, with his hook, at Florence's door, twice or thrice;
but, receiving no answer, ventured first to peep in, and then to enter:
emboldened to take the latter step, perhaps, by the familiar recognition
of Diogenes, who, stretched upon the ground by the side of her couch,
wagged his tail, and winked his eyes at the Captain, without being at
the trouble of getting up.

She was sleeping heavily, and moaning in her sleep; and Captain Cuttle,
with a perfect awe of her youth, and beauty, and her sorrow, raised her
head, and adjusted the coat that covered her, where it had fallen off,
and darkened the window a little more that she might sleep on, and crept
out again, and took his post of watch upon the stairs. All this, with a
touch and tread as light as Florence's own.

Long may it remain in this mixed world a point not easy of decision,
which is the more beautiful evidence of the Almighty's goodness--the
delicate fingers that are formed for sensitiveness and sympathy of
touch, and made to minister to pain and grief, or the rough hard Captain
Cuttle hand, that the heart teaches, guides, and softens in a moment!

Florence slept upon her couch, forgetful of her homelessness and
orphanage, and Captain Cuttle watched upon the stairs. A louder sob or
moan than usual, brought him sometimes to her door; but by degrees she
slept more peacefully, and the Captain's watch was undisturbed.

CHAPTER 49. The Midshipman makes a Discovery

It was long before Florence awoke. The day was in its prime, the day
was in its wane, and still, uneasy in mind and body, she slept on;
unconscious of her strange bed, of the noise and turmoil in the
street, and of the light that shone outside the shaded window. Perfect
unconsciousness of what had happened in the home that existed no more,
even the deep slumber of exhaustion could not produce. Some undefined
and mournful recollection of it, dozing uneasily but never sleeping,
perva