now!' cried Florence.

'Don't! don't take on, my pretty!' said the Captain, 'awast, to obleege
me! He was your nat'ral born friend like, warn't he, Pet?'

Florence had no words to answer with. She only said, 'Oh, dear, dear
Paul! oh, Walter!'

'The wery planks she walked on,' murmured the Captain, looking at her
drooping face, 'was as high esteemed by Wal'r, as the water brooks is
by the hart which never rejices! I see him now, the wery day as he was
rated on them Dombey books, a speaking of her with his face a glistening
with doo--leastways with his modest sentiments--like a new blowed rose,
at dinner. Well, well! If our poor Wal'r was here, my lady lass--or if
he could be--for he's drownded, ain't he?'

Florence shook her head.

'Yes, yes; drownded,' said the Captain, soothingly; 'as I was saying, if
he could be here he'd beg and pray of you, my precious, to pick a leetle
bit, with a look-out for your own sweet health. Whereby, hold your own,
my lady lass, as if it was for Wal'r's sake, and lay your pretty head to
the wind.'

Florence essayed to eat a morsel, for the Captain's pleasure. The
Captain, meanwhile, who seemed to have quite forgotten his own dinner,
laid down his knife and fork, and drew his chair to the sofa.

'Wal'r was a trim lad, warn't he, precious?' said the Captain, after
sitting for some time silently rubbing his chin, with his eyes fixed
upon her, 'and a brave lad, and a good lad?'

Florence tearfully assented.

'And he's drownded, Beauty, ain't he?' said the Captain, in a soothing
voice.

Florence could not but assent again.

'He was older than you, my lady lass,' pursued the Captain, 'but you was
like two children together, at first; wam't you?'

Florence answered 'Yes.'

'And Wal'r's drownded,' said the Captain. 'Ain't he?'

The repetition of this inquiry was a curious source of consolation, but
it seemed to be one to Captain Cuttle, for he came back to it again and
again. Florence, fain to push from her her untasted dinner, and to lie
back on her sofa, gave him her hand, feeling that she had disappointed
him, though truly wishing to have pleased him after all his trouble, but
he held it in his own (which shook as he held it), and appearing to have
quite forgotten all about the dinner and her want of appetite, went on
growling at intervals, in a ruminating tone of sympathy, 'Poor Wal'r.
Ay, ay! Drownded. Ain't he?' And always waited for her answer, in which
the great point of