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 it to his old Uncle, eh?’ retorted Mr Dombey. ‘Well! When you are old enough, you know, you will share my money, and we shall use it together.’
‘Dombey and Son,’ interrupted Paul, who had been tutored early in the phrase.
‘Dombey and Son,’ repeated his father. ‘Would you like to begin to be Dombey and Son, now, and lend this money to young Gay’s Uncle?’
‘Oh! if you please, Papa!’ said Paul: ‘and so would Florence.’
‘Girls,’ said Mr Dombey, ‘have nothing to do with Dombey and Son. Would you like it?’
‘Yes, Papa, yes!’
‘Then you shall do it,’ returned his father. ‘And you see, Paul,’ he added, dropping his voice, ‘how powerful money is, and how anxious people are to get it. Young Gay comes all this way to beg for money, and you, who are so grand and great, having got it, are going to let him have it, as a great favour and obligation.’
Paul turned up the old face for a moment, in which there was a sharp understanding of the reference conveyed in these words: but it was a young and childish face immediately afterwards, when he slipped down from his father’s knee, and ran to tell Florence not to cry any more, for he was going to let young Gay have the money.
Mr Dombey then turned to a side-table, and wrote a note and sealed it. During the interval, Paul and Florence whispered to Walter, and Captain Cuttle beamed on the three, with such aspiring and ineffably presumptuous thoughts as Mr Dombey never could have believed in. The note being finished, Mr Dombey turned round to his former place, and held it out to Walter.
‘Give that,’ he said, ‘the first thing to-morrow morning, to Mr Carker. He will immediately take care that one of my people releases your Uncle from his present position, by paying the amount
