"Mamma!" said Florence. "Oh, mamma, what can I do, what should I do, to make us happier? Is there anything?"
"Nothing," she replied.
"Are you sure of that? Can it never be? If I speak now of what is in my thoughts, in spite of what we have agreed," said Florence, "you will not blame me, will you?"
"It is useless," she replied, "useless. I have told you, dear, that I have had bad dreams. Nothing can change them, or prevent their coming back."
"I do not understand," said Florence, gazing on her agitated face, which seemed to darken as she looked.
Her mother's clenched hand tightened on the trembling arm she had in hers, and as she looked down on the alarmed and wondering face, her own feelings subsided. "Oh, Florence!" she said, "I think I have been nearly mad to-night!" and humbled her proud head upon the girl's neck, and burst into tears.
"Don't leave me! be near me! I have no hope but in you!" These words she said a score of times.
Florence was greatly puzzled and distressed, and could only repeat her promise of love and trust.
Through six months that followed upon Mr. Dombey's illness and recovery, no outward change was shown between him and his wife. Both were cold and proud; and still Mr. Carker—a man whom she detested——bore his petty commands to her.
As for Florence, the little hope she had ever held for happiness in their new home was quite gone now. That home was nearly two years old, and even the patient trust that was in her could not survive the daily blight of such an experience.