t close by her, very
quiet; and in the night he called out from his little room, three or
four times, that he loved her. Regularly after that Florence sat down
with him on Saturday night, and assisted him through so much as they
could anticipate together of his next week's work.

And so the months went by, until the midsummer vacation was near at
hand, and the great party which was to celebrate the breaking up of
school, was about to come off. Some weeks before this, Paul had had a
fainting turn, and had not recovered his strength, in consequence of
which, he was enjoying complete rest from lessons, and it was clear to
every one, that, once at home, he would never come back to Dr. Blimber's
or to any school again, and to no one was the sad truth more evident
than to Florence.

On the evening of the great party Florence came, looking so beautiful in
her simple ball dress, with her fresh flowers in her hand, that she was
the admiration of all the young gentlemen of the school, and
particularly of Mr. Toots, the head boy; a simple youth with an engaging
manner, and the habit of blushing and chuckling when addressed. Mr.
Toots had made Paul his especial favorite and charge, and was well
repaid for his devotion to the boy by the gracious appreciation which
Florence showed him for it, and it was to the care of Mr. Toots that
Paul, when leaving, intrusted the dog Diogenes, who had never received a
friend into his confidence before Paul had become his companion.

The brother and sister remained together for a time at Mrs. Pipchin's,
then went back to their home in London, where little Paul's life ebbed
away, and his father's hopes were crushed by the blow.

There was a hush through Mr. Dombey's great mansion when the child was
gone, and Florence;--was she so alone in the bleak world that nothing
else remained to her except her little maid? Nothing.

At first, when the house subsided into its accustomed course she could
do nothing but weep, and wander up and down, and sometimes, in a sudden
pang of desolate remembrance, fly to her own chamber, lay her face down
on her bed, and know no consolation. But it is not in the nature of pure
love to burn so fiercely and unkindly long. Soon, in the midst of the
dismal house, her low voice in the twilight slowly touched an old air to
which she had so often listened with Paul's head upon her arm. And
after that, and when it was quite dark, a little strain of music
trembled in the room,