LITTLE DOMBEY.
Little Dombey was the son of a rich city merchant, a cold, stern, andpompous man, whose life and interests were entirely absorbed in hisbusiness. He was so desirous of having a son to associate with himselfin the business, and make the house once more Dombey & Son in fact, asit was in name, that the little boy who was at last born to him waseagerly welcomed.
There was a pretty little girl six years old, but her father had takenlittle notice of her. Of what use was a girl to Dombey & Son? She couldnot go into the business.
Little Dombey's mother died when he was born, but the event did notgreatly disturb Mr. Dombey; and since his son lived, what did it matterto him that his little daughter Florence was breaking her heart inloneliness for the mother who had loved and cherished her!
During the first few months of his life, little Dombey grew andflourished; and as soon as he was old enough to take notice, there wasno one he loved so well as his sister Florence.
In due time the baby was taken to church, and baptized by the name ofPaul (his father's name). A grand and stately christening it was,followed by a grand and stately feast; and little Paul was declared byhis godmother to be "an angel, and the perfect picture of his own papa."
But from that time Paul seemed to waste and pine; his healthy andthriving babyhood had received a check, and as for illnesses, "Therenever was a blessed dear so put upon," his nurse said.
By the time he was five years old, though he had the prettiest, sweetestlittle face in the world, there was always a patient, wistful look uponit, and he was thin and tiny and delicate. He soon got tired, and hadsuch old-fashioned ways of speaking and doing things, that his nurseoften shook her head sadly over him.
When he sat in his little arm-chair with his father, after dinner, theywere a strange pair,--so like, and so unlike each other.
"What is money, papa?" asked Paul on one of these occasions, crossinghis tiny arms as well as he could--just as his father's were crossed.
"Why, gold, silver and copper; you know what it is well enough, Paul,"answered his father.
"Oh yes; I mean, what can money do?"
"Anything, everything--almost," replied Mr. Dombey, taking one of hisson's wee hands.
Paul drew his hand gently away. "It didn't save me my mamma, and itcan't make me strong and big," said he.
"Why, you _are_ strong and big, as big as such little people usuallyare," returned Mr. Dombey.
"No," replied Paul, sighing; "when Florence was as little as me, she wasstrong and tall, and did not get tired of playing as I do. I am so tiredsometimes, papa."
Mr. Dombey's anxiety was aroused, and the doctor was sent for to examinePaul.
"The child is hardly so stout as we could wish," said the doctor; "hismind is too big for his body, he thinks too much--let him try seaair--sea air does wonders for children."
So it was arranged that Florence, Paul, and nurse should go to Brighton,and stay in the house of a lady named Mrs. Pipchin, who kept a veryselect boarding-house for children.
There is no doubt that, apart from his importance to the house of Dombey& Son, little Paul had crept into his father's heart, cold though itstill was towards his daughter, colder than ever now, for there was init a sort of unacknowledged jealousy of the warm love lavished on her byPaul, which he himself was unable to win.
Mrs. Pipchin was a marvellously ugly old lady, with a hook nose andstern cold eyes.
"Well, Master Paul, how do you think you will like me?" said Mrs.Pipchin, seeing the child intently regarding her.
"I don't think I shall like you at all," replied Paul, shaking his head."I want to go away. I do not like your house."
Paul did not like Mrs. Pipchin, but he would sit in his arm-chair andlook at her. Her ugliness seemed to fascinate him.
As the weeks went by little Paul grew more healthy-looking, but he didnot seem any stronger, and could not run about out of doors. A littlecarriage was therefore got for him, in which he could be wheeled down tothe beach, where he would pass the greater part of the day. He took agreat fancy to a queer crab-faced old man, smelling of sea-weed, whowheeled his carriage, and held long conversations with him; but Florencewas the only child companion whom he ever cared to have with him, thoughhe liked to watch other children playing in the distance.
"I love you, Floy," he said one day to her.
Florence laid her head against his pillow, and whispered how muchstronger he was growing.
"Oh, yes, I know, I am a great deal better," said Paul, "a very greatdeal better. Listen, Floy; what is it the sea keeps saying?"
"Nothing, dear, it is only the rolling of the waves you hear."
"Yes, but they are always saying something, and always the same thing.What place is over there, Floy?"
She told him there was another country opposite, but Paul said he didnot mean that, he meant somewhere much farther away, oh, much fartheraway--and often he would break off in the midst of their talk to listento the sea and gaze out towards that country "farther away."
After having lived at Brighton for a year, Paul was certainly muchstronger, though still thin and delicate. And on one of his weeklyvisits, Mr. Dombey explained to Mrs. Pipchin, with pompouscondescension, that Paul's weak health having kept him back in hisstudies, he had made arrangements to place him at the educationalestablishment of Dr. Blimber, which was close by. Florence was, for thepresent, to remain under Mrs. Pipchin's care, and see her brother everyweek.
Dr. Blimber's school was a great hot-house for the forcing of boy'sbrains; and Dr. Blimber promised speedily to make a man of Paul.
"Shall you like to be made a man of, my son?" asked Mr. Dombey.
"I'd rather be a child and stay with Floy," answered Paul.
Miss Blimber, the doctor's daughter, a learned lady in spectacles, washis special tutor, and from morning till night his poor little brainswere forced and crammed till his head was heavy and always had a dullache in it, and his small legs grew weak again--every day he looked alittle thinner and a little paler, and became more old-fashioned thanever in his looks and ways--"old-fashioned" was a distinguishing titlewhich clung to him. He was gentle and polite to every one--alwayslooking out for small kindnesses which he might do to any inmate of thehouse. "The oddest and most old-fashioned child in the world," Dr.Blimber would say to his daughter; "but bring him on, Cornelia--bringhim on."
And Cornelia did bring him on; and Florence, seeing how pale and wearythe little fellow looked when he came to her on Saturdays, and how hecould not rest from anxiety about his lessons, would lighten his laborsa little, and ease his mind by helping him to prepare his week's work.But one day, when his lessons were over, little Paul laid his weary andaching head against the knee of a schoolfellow of whom he was very fond;and the first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that thewindow was open, his face and hair were wet with water, and that Dr.Blimber and the usher were both standing looking at him.
"Ah, that's well," said Dr. Blimber, as Paul opened his eyes, "and howis my little friend now?"
"Oh, quite well, thank you, sir," answered Paul, but when he got upthere seemed something the matter with the floor, and the walls weredancing about, and Dr. Blimber's head was twice its natural size. He wasput to bed, and presently the doctor came and said he was not to do anymore lessons for the present.
In a few days Paul was able to get up and creep about the house. Hewondered sometimes why every one looked at and spoke so very kindly tohim, and was more than ever careful to do any little kindnesses he couldthink of for them: even the rough, ugly dog Diogenes, who lived in theyard, came in for a share of his attentions.
There was a party at Dr. Blimber's on the evening before the boys wenthome. Paul sat in a corner of the sofa all the evening, and every onewas very kind to him indeed, it was quite extraordinary, Paul thought,and he was very happy; he liked to see how pretty Florence was, and howevery one admired and wished to dance with her. After resting for anight at Mrs. Pipchin's house, little Paul went home, a
nd was carriedstraight upstairs to his bed.
LITTLE PAUL AND FLORENCE. A LITTLE CARRIAGE WAS GOT FOR HIM.]
He lay in his bed day after day quite happily and patiently, contentto watch and talk to Florence. He would tell her his dreams, and how healways saw the sunlit ripples of a river rolling, rolling fast in frontof him; sometimes he seemed to be rocking in a little boat on the water,and its motion lulled him to rest, and then he would be floating away,away to that shore farther off, which he could not see. One day he toldFlorence that the water was rippling brighter and faster than ever, andthat he could not see anything else.
"My own boy, cannot you see your poor father?" said Mr. Dombey, bendingover him.
"Oh yes, but don't be so sorry, dear papa. I am so happy,--good-bye,dear papa." Presently he opened his eyes again, and said, "Floy, mammais like you, I can see her. Come close to me, Floy, and tell them,"whispered the dying boy, "that the face of the picture of Christ on thestaircase at school is not divine enough; the light from it is shiningon me now, and the water is shining too, and rippling so fast, so fast."
The evening light shone into the room, but little Paul's spirit had goneout on the rippling water, and the Divine Face was shining on him fromthe farther shore.