“It is very urgent, returned Carker. “As I am so fortunate as to have met you, let me press my petition.”
She looked down for a moment at his glistening mouth; and he looked up at her, standing above him in her stately dress, and thought, again, how beautiful she was.
“Where is Miss Dombey?” she asked the servant, aloud.
“In the morning room, Ma’am.”
“Show the way there!” Turning her eyes again on the attentive gentleman at the bottom of the stairs, and informing him with a slight motion of her head, that he was at liberty to follow, she passed on.
“I beg your pardon! Madam! Mrs Dombey!” cried the soft and nimble Carker, at her side in a moment. “May I be permitted to entreat that Miss Dombey is not present?”
She confronted him, with a quick look, but with the same self-possession and steadiness.
“I would spare Miss Dombey,” said Carker, in a low voice, “the knowledge of what I have to say. At least, Madam, I would leave it to you to decide whether she shall know of it or not. I owe that to you. It is my bounden duty to you. After our former interview, it would be monstrous in me if I did otherwise.”
She slowly withdrew her eyes from his face, and turning to the servant, said, “Some other room.” He led the way to a drawing-room, which he speedily lighted up and then left them. While he remained, not a word was spoken. Edith enthroned herself upon a couch by the fire; and Mr Carker, with his hat in his hand and his eyes bent upon the carpet, stood before her, at some little distance.
“Before I hear you, Sir,” said Edith, when the door was closed, “I wish you to hear me.”