his face, for he
understood her.

'He is very good-tempered,' said Florence, addressing herself with her
natural grace and sweetness to the two lady strangers. 'He is only glad
to see me. Pray forgive him.'

She saw in the glance they interchanged, that the lady who had screamed,
and who was seated, was old; and that the other lady, who stood near her
Papa, was very beautiful, and of an elegant figure.

'Mrs Skewton,' said her father, turning to the first, and holding out
his hand, 'this is my daughter Florence.'

'Charming, I am sure,' observed the lady, putting up her glass. 'So
natural! My darling Florence, you must kiss me, if you please.'

Florence having done so, turned towards the other lady, by whom her
father stood waiting.

'Edith,' said Mr Dombey, 'this is my daughter Florence. Florence, this
lady will soon be your Mama.'

Florence started, and looked up at the beautiful face in a conflict
of emotions, among which the tears that name awakened, struggled for a
moment with surprise, interest, admiration, and an indefinable sort of
fear. Then she cried out, 'Oh, Papa, may you be happy! may you be very,
very happy all your life!' and then fell weeping on the lady's bosom.

There was a short silence. The beautiful lady, who at first had seemed
to hesitate whether or no she should advance to Florence, held her to
her breast, and pressed the hand with which she clasped her, close about
her waist, as if to reassure her and comfort her. Not one word passed
the lady's lips. She bent her head down over Florence, and she kissed
her on the cheek, but she said no word.

'Shall we go on through the rooms,' said Mr Dombey, 'and see how our
workmen are doing? Pray allow me, my dear madam.'

He said this in offering his arm to Mrs Skewton, who had been looking
at Florence through her glass, as though picturing to herself what she
might be made, by the infusion--from her own copious storehouse, no
doubt--of a little more Heart and Nature. Florence was still sobbing on
the lady's breast, and holding to her, when Mr Dombey was heard to say
from the Conservatory:

'Let us ask Edith. Dear me, where is she?'

'Edith, my dear!' cried Mrs Skewton, 'where are you? Looking for Mr
Dombey somewhere, I know. We are here, my love.'

The beautiful lady released her hold of Florence, and pressing her lips
once more upon her face, withdrew hurriedly, and joined them. Florence
remained standing In the same place: happy, sorry, j