Gay, what is the matter? Who sent you down here? Was there nobody else to come?’
‘I beg your pardon, Sir,’ returned Walter. ‘I have not been sent. I have been so bold as to come on my own account, which I hope you’ll pardon when I mention the cause.
But Mr Dombey, without attending to what he said, was looking impatiently on either side of him (as if he were a pillar in his way) at some object behind.
‘What’s that?’ said Mr Dombey. ‘Who is that? I think you have made some mistake in the door, Sir.’
‘Oh, I’m very sorry to intrude with anyone, Sir,’ cried Walter, hastily: ‘but this is – this is Captain Cuttle, Sir.’
‘Wal’r, my lad,’ observed the Captain in a deep voice: ‘stand by!’
At the same time the Captain, coming a little further in, brought out his wide suit of blue, his conspicuous shirt-collar, and his knobby nose in full relief, and stood bowing to Mr Dombey, and waving his hook politely to the ladies, with the hard glazed hat in his one hand, and a red equator round his head which it had newly imprinted there.
Mr Dombey regarded this phenomenon with amazement and indignation, and seemed by his looks to appeal to Mrs Chick and Miss Tox against it. Little Paul, who had come in after Florence, backed towards Miss Tox as the Captain waved his hook, and stood on the defensive.
‘Now, Gay,’ said Mr Dombey. ‘What have you got to say to me?’
Again the Captain observed, as a general opening of the conversation that could not fail to propitiate all parties, ‘Wal’r, standby!’
‘I am afraid, Sir,’ began Walter, trembling, and looking down at the ground, ‘that I take a very great liberty in coming – indeed, I am sure I do. I should hardly have had the courage to ask to see you, Sir, even after coming down, I am afraid, if I had not overtaken Miss Dombey, and – ’
‘Well!’ said Mr Dombey, following his eyes as he glanced at the attentive Florence, and frowning unconsciously as she encouraged him with a smile. ‘Go on, if you please.’
‘Ay, ay,’ observed the Captain, considering it incumbent on him, as a point of good breeding, to support Mr Dombey. ‘Well said! Go on, Wal’r.’
Captain Cuttle ought to have been withered by the look which Mr Dombey bestowed upon him in acknowledgment of his patronage. But quite innocent of this, he closed one eye in reply, and gave Mr Dombey to understand, by certain significant motions of his hook, that Walter was a little bashful at first, and might be expected to come out shortly.
‘It is entirely a private and personal matter, that has brought me here, Sir,’ continued Walter, faltering, ‘and Captain Cuttle – ’
‘Here!’ interposed the Captain, as an assurance that he was at hand, and might be relied upon.
‘Who is a very old friend of my poor Uncle’s, and a most excellent man, Sir,’ pursued Walter, raising his eyes with a look of entreaty in the Captain’s behalf, ‘was so good as to offer to come with me, which I could hardly refuse.’
‘No, no, no;’ observed the Captain complacently. ‘Of course not. No call for refusing. Go on, Wal’r.’
‘And therefore, Sir,’ said Walter, venturing to meet Mr Dombey’s eye, and proceeding with better courage in the very desperation of the case, now that there was no avoiding it, ‘therefore I have come, with him, Sir, to say that my poor old Uncle is in very great affliction and distress. That, through the gradual loss of his business, and not being able to make a payment, the apprehension of which has weighed very heavily upon his mind, months and months, as indeed I know, Sir, he has an execution in his house, and is in danger of losing all he has, and breaking his heart. And that if you would, in your kindness, and in your old knowledge of him as a respectable man, do anything to help him out of his difficulty, Sir, we never could thank you enough for it.’
Walter’s eyes filled with tears as he spoke; and so did those of Florence. Her father saw them glistening, though he appeared to look at Walter only.
‘It is a very large sum, Sir,’ said Walter. ‘More than three hundred pounds. My Uncle is quite beaten down by his misfortune, it lies so heavy on him; and is quite unable to do anything for his own relief. He doesn’t even know yet, that I have come to speak to you. You would wish me to say, Sir,’ added Walter, after a moment’s hesitation, ‘exactly what it is I want. I really don’t know, Sir. There is my Uncle’s stock, on which I believe I may say, confidently, there are no other demands, and there is Captain Cuttle, who would wish to be security too. I – I hardly like to mention,’ said Walter, ‘such earnings as mine; but if you would allow them – accumulate – payment – advance – Uncle – frugal, honourable, old man.’ Walter trailed off, through these broken sentences, into silence: and stood with downcast head, before his employer.
Considering this a favourable moment for the display of the valuables, Captain Cuttle advanced to the table; and clearing a space among the breakfast-cups at Mr Dombey’s elbow, produced the silver watch, the ready money, the teaspoons, and the sugar-tongs; and piling them up into a heap that they might look as precious as possible, delivered himself of these words:
‘Half a loaf’s better than no bread, and the same remark holds good with crumbs. There’s a few. Annuity of one hundred pound premium also ready to be made over. If there is a man chock full of science in the world, it’s old Sol Gills. If there is a lad of promise – one flowing,’ added the Captain, in one of his happy quotations, ‘with milk and honey – it’s his nevy!’
The Captain then withdrew to his former place, where he stood arranging his scattered locks with the air of a man who had given the finishing touch to a difficult performance.
When Walter ceased to speak, Mr Dombey’s eyes were attracted to little Paul, who, seeing his sister hanging down her head and silently weeping in her commiseration for the distress she had heard described, went over to her, and tried to comfort her: looking at Walter and his father as he did so, with a very expressive face. After the momentary distraction of Captain Cuttle’s address, which he regarded with lofty indifference, Mr Dombey again turned his eyes upon his son, and sat steadily regarding the child, for some moments, in silence.
‘What was this debt contracted for?’ asked Mr Dombey, at length. ‘Who is the creditor?’
‘He don’t know,’ replied the Captain, putting his hand on Walter’s shoulder. ‘I do. It came of helping a man that’s dead now, and that’s cost my friend Gills many a hundred pound already. More particulars in private, if agreeable.’
‘People who have enough to do to hold their own way,’ said Mr Dombey, unobservant of the Captain’s mysterious signs behind Walter, and still looking at his son, ‘had better be content with their own obligations and difficulties, and not increase them by engaging for other men. It is an act of dishonesty and presumption, too,’ said Mr Dombey, sternly; ‘great presumption; for the wealthy could do no more. Paul, come here!’
The child obeyed: and Mr Dombey took him on his knee.
‘If you had money now – ’ said Mr Dombey. ‘Look at me!’
Paul, whose eyes had wandered to his sister, and to Walter, looked his father in the face.
‘If you had money now,’ said Mr Dombey; ‘as much money as young Gay has talked about; what would you do?’
‘Give it to his old Uncle,’ returned Paul.
‘Lend
