A bottle that has been long excluded from the light of day, and is hoary with dust and cobwebs, has been brought into the sunshine; and the golden wine within it sheds a lustre on the table.
It is the last bottle of the old Madiera.
“You are quite right, Mr Gills,” says Mr Dombey. “This is a very rare and most delicious wine.”
The Captain, who is of the party, beams with joy. There is a very halo of delight round his glowing forehead.
“We always promised ourselves, Sir,” observes Mr Gills,” Ned and myself, I mean—”
Mr Dombey nods at the Captain, who shines more and more with speechless gratification.
“—that we would drink this, one day or other, to Walter safe at home: though such a home we never thought of. If you don’t object to our old whim, Sir, let us devote this first glass to Walter and his wife.”
“To Walter and his wife!” says Mr Dombey. “Florence, my child”—and turns to kiss her.
“To Walter and his wife!” says Mr Toots.
“To Wal”r and his wife!” exclaims the Captain. “Hooroar!” and the Captain exhibiting a strong desire to clink his glass against some other glass, Mr Dombey, with a ready hand, holds out his. The others follow; and there is a blithe and merry ringing, as of a little peal of marriage bells.