this agitation, pushed Florence behind her couch, and dropped a shawl over her, preparatory to giving Mr. Dombey a rapture of surprise. It was so quickly done, that in a moment Florence heard his awful step in the room.
He saluted his intended mother-in-law, and his intended bride. The strange sound of his voice thrilled through the whole frame of his child.
"My dear Dombey," said Cleopatra, "come here and tell me how your pretty Florence is."
"Florence is very well," said Mr. Dombey, advancing towards the couch.
"At home?"
"At home," said Mr. Dombey.
"My dear Dombey," returned Cleopatra, with bewitching vivacity; "Now are you sure you are not deceiving me? I don’t know what my dearest Edith will say to me when I make such a declaration, but upon my honour I am afraid you are the falsest of men, my dear Dombey."
Though he had been; and had been detected on the spot, in the most enormous falsehood that was ever said or done; he could hardly have been more disconcerted than he was, when Mrs. Skewton plucked the shawl away, and Florence, pale and trembling, rose before him like a ghost. He had not yet recovered his presence of mind, when Florence had run up to him, clasped her hands round his neck, kissed his face, and hurried out of the room. He looked round as if to refer the matter to somebody else, but Edith had gone after Florence, instantly.
"Now, confess, my dear Dombey," said Mrs. Skewton, giving him her hand, "that you never were more surprised and pleased in your life."
"I never was more surprised," said Mr. Dombey.
"Nor pleased, my dearest Dombey?" returned Mrs. Skewton, holding up her fan.
"I—yes, I am exceedingly glad to meet Florence here," said Mr. Dombey. He appeared to consider gravely about it for a moment, and then said, more decidedly, "Yes, I really am very glad indeed to meet Florence here."
"You wonder how she comes here?" said Mrs. Skewton, "don’t you?"
"Edith, perhaps—" suggested Mr. Dombey.
"Ah! wicked guesser!" replied Cleopatra, shaking her head. "Ah! cunning, cunning man! One shouldn’t tell these things; your sex, my dear Dombey, are so vain, and so apt to abuse our weakness; but you know my open soul—very well; immediately."
This was addressed to one of the very tall young men who announced dinner.
"But Edith, my dear Dombey," she continued in a whisper, "when she cannot have you near her—and as I tell her, she cannot expect that always—will at least have near her something or somebody belonging to you. Well, how extremely natural that is! And in this spirit, nothing would keep her from riding off to-day to fetch our darling Florence. Well, how excessively charming that is!"
As she waited for an answer, Mr. Dombey answered, "Eminently so."
"Bless you, my dear Dombey, for that proof of heart!" cried Cleopatra, squeezing his hand. "But I am growing too serious! Take me
