laid
aside for Mr Dombey, and while the sketching materials were put up;
then he handed in the pencils (which were received with a distant
acknowledgment of his help, but without a look), and tightening his
rein, fell back, and followed the carriage again.

Thinking, perhaps, as he rode, that even this trivial sketch had been
made and delivered to its owner, as if it had been bargained for and
bought. Thinking, perhaps, that although she had assented with such
perfect readiness to his request, her haughty face, bent over the
drawing, or glancing at the distant objects represented in it, had
been the face of a proud woman, engaged in a sordid and miserable
transaction. Thinking, perhaps, of such things: but smiling certainly,
and while he seemed to look about him freely, in enjoyment of the air
and exercise, keeping always that sharp corner of his eye upon the
carriage.

A stroll among the haunted ruins of Kenilworth, and more rides to more
points of view: most of which, Mrs Skewton reminded Mr Dombey, Edith had
already sketched, as he had seen in looking over her drawings: brought
the day's expedition to a close. Mrs Skewton and Edith were driven to
their own lodgings; Mr Carker was graciously invited by Cleopatra to
return thither with Mr Dombey and the Major, in the evening, to hear
some of Edith's music; and the three gentlemen repaired to their hotel
to dinner.

The dinner was the counterpart of yesterday's, except that the Major was
twenty-four hours more triumphant and less mysterious. Edith was toasted
again. Mr Dombey was again agreeably embarrassed. And Mr Carker was full
of interest and praise.

There were no other visitors at Mrs Skewton's. Edith's drawings were
strewn about the room, a little more abundantly than usual perhaps; and
Withers, the wan page, handed round a little stronger tea. The harp
was there; the piano was there; and Edith sang and played. But even the
music was played by Edith to Mr Dombey's order, as it were, in the same
uncompromising way. As thus.

'Edith, my dearest love,' said Mrs Skewton, half an hour after tea, 'Mr
Dombey is dying to hear you, I know.'

'Mr Dombey has life enough left to say so for himself, Mama, I have no
doubt.'

'I shall be immensely obliged,' said Mr Dombey.

'What do you wish?'

'Piano?' hesitated Mr Dombey.

'Whatever you please. You have only to choose.

Accordingly, she began with the piano. It was the same with the harp;
the same with her si