ed with this little token which he designed for Mr Dombey, Captain
Cuttle walked on with Walter until they reached the Instrument-maker's
door, before which they both paused.

'You're going in?' said Walter.

'Yes,' returned the Captain, who felt that Walter must be got rid
of before he proceeded any further, and that he had better time his
projected visit somewhat later in the day.

'And you won't forget anything?'

'No,' returned the Captain.

'I'll go upon my walk at once,' said Walter, 'and then I shall be out of
the way, Captain Cuttle.'

'Take a good long 'un, my lad!' replied the Captain, calling after him.
Walter waved his hand in assent, and went his way.

His way was nowhere in particular; but he thought he would go out into
the fields, where he could reflect upon the unknown life before him, and
resting under some tree, ponder quietly. He knew no better fields than
those near Hampstead, and no better means of getting at them than by
passing Mr Dombey's house.

It was as stately and as dark as ever, when he went by and glanced up
at its frowning front. The blinds were all pulled down, but the upper
windows stood wide open, and the pleasant air stirring those curtains
and waving them to and fro was the only sign of animation in the whole
exterior. Walter walked softly as he passed, and was glad when he had
left the house a door or two behind.

He looked back then; with the interest he had always felt for the place
since the adventure of the lost child, years ago; and looked especially
at those upper windows. While he was thus engaged, a chariot drove to
the door, and a portly gentleman in black, with a heavy watch-chain,
alighted, and went in. When he afterwards remembered this gentleman and
his equipage together, Walter had no doubt be was a physician; and then
he wondered who was ill; but the discovery did not occur to him until he
had walked some distance, thinking listlessly of other things.

Though still, of what the house had suggested to him; for Walter
pleased himself with thinking that perhaps the time might come, when the
beautiful child who was his old friend and had always been so grateful
to him and so glad to see him since, might interest her brother in his
behalf and influence his fortunes for the better. He liked to imagine
this--more, at that moment, for the pleasure of imagining her continued
remembrance of him, than for any worldly profit he might gain: but
another and more sober