Dombey and Son | Page 7

wine and a
morsel of that cake.'
Mr Dombey promptly supplied her with these refreshments from a tray
on the table.
'I shall not drink my love to you, Paul,' said Louisa: 'I shall drink to the
little Dombey. Good gracious me! - it's the most astonishing thing I
ever knew in all my days, he's such a perfect Dombey.'
Quenching this expression of opinion in a short hysterical laugh which
terminated in tears, Louisa cast up her eyes, and emptied her glass.
'I know it's very weak and silly of me,' she repeated, 'to be so trembly
and shaky from head to foot, and to allow my feelings so completely to
get the better of me, but I cannot help it. I thought I should have fallen
out of the staircase window as I came down from seeing dear Fanny,
and that tiddy ickle sing.' These last words originated in a sudden vivid
reminiscence of the baby.
They were succeeded by a gentle tap at the door.
'Mrs Chick,' said a very bland female voice outside, 'how are you now,
my dear friend?'
'My dear Paul,' said Louisa in a low voice, as she rose from her seat,
'it's Miss Tox. The kindest creature! I never could have got here
without her! Miss Tox, my brother Mr Dombey. Paul, my dear, my
very particular friend Miss Tox.'
The lady thus specially presented, was a long lean figure, wearing such
a faded air that she seemed not to have been made in what linen-drapers
call 'fast colours' originally, and to have, by little and little, washed out.
But for this she might have been described as the very pink of general
propitiation and politeness. From a long habit of listening admiringly to
everything that was said in her presence, and looking at the speakers as
if she were mentally engaged in taking off impressions of their images
upon her soul, never to part with the same but with life, her head had

quite settled on one side. Her hands had contracted a spasmodic habit
of raising themselves of their own accord as in involuntary admiration.
Her eyes were liable to a similar affection. She had the softest voice
that ever was heard; and her nose, stupendously aquiline, had a little
knob in the very centre or key-stone of the bridge, whence it tended
downwards towards her face, as in an invincible determination never to
turn up at anything.
Miss Tox's dress, though perfectly genteel and good, had a certain
character of angularity and scantiness. She was accustomed to wear odd
weedy little flowers in her bonnets and caps. Strange grasses were
sometimes perceived in her hair; and it was observed by the curious, of
all her collars, frills, tuckers, wristbands, and other gossamer articles -
indeed of everything she wore which had two ends to it intended to
unite - that the two ends were never on good terms, and wouldn't quite
meet without a struggle. She had furry articles for winter wear, as
tippets, boas, and muffs, which stood up on end in rampant manner,
and were not at all sleek. She was much given to the carrying about of
small bags with snaps to them, that went off like little pistols when they
were shut up; and when full-dressed, she wore round her neck the
barrenest of lockets, representing a fishy old eye, with no approach to
speculation in it. These and other appearances of a similar nature, had
served to propagate the opinion, that Miss Tox was a lady of what is
called a limited independence, which she turned to the best account.
Possibly her mincing gait encouraged the belief, and suggested that her
clipping a step of ordinary compass into two or three, originated in her
habit of making the most of everything.
'I am sure,' said Miss Tox, with a prodigious curtsey, 'that to have the
honour of being presented to Mr Dombey is a distinction which I have
long sought, but very little expected at the present moment. My dear
Mrs Chick - may I say Louisa!'
Mrs Chick took Miss Tox's hand in hers, rested the foot of her
wine-glass upon it, repressed a tear, and said in a low voice, 'God bless
you!'
'My dear Louisa then,' said Miss Tox, 'my sweet friend, how are you

now?'
'Better,' Mrs Chick returned. 'Take some wine. You have been almost
as anxious as I have been, and must want it, I am sure.'
Mr Dombey of course officiated, and also refilled his sister's glass,
which she (looking another way, and unconscious of his intention) held
straight and steady the while, and then regarded with great
astonishment, saying, 'My dear Paul, what have you been doing!'
'Miss Tox, Paul,' pursued Mrs Chick, still retaining her hand, 'knowing