“唔，约翰•卡克，是什么使你到这里来的？”
他的哥哥指指函件，然后又向门口走去。
“我感到奇怪，”经理说道，“你来来去去，连我们主人的健康情况怎么样也可以不问一问。”
“今天早上我们在办公室里听说，董贝先生的身体恢复得不错，”他的哥哥回答道。
“你是这样一位卑躬屈节的人，”经理微笑了一下，说道，——“不过，在这些岁月中你已变成了这样子——，我现在敢发誓说，如果他遭到什么灾祸的话，那么你是会感到悲伤的。”
“我一定会真正感到难过，詹姆斯，”那一位回答道。
“他会感到难过！”经理指着他说道，仿佛他正在向这里另一个人求助似的。“他会真正感到难过！我的这位哥哥！这位这里的小职员，这块谁也看不起的废物，他被人们推在一旁，脸朝着墙壁，就像是一张拙劣的图画一样！他就一直是这样，天知道过了多少年；可是他对他却非常感激、尊敬与忠诚，而且想要我相信这一点！”
“我什么也不想要你相信，詹姆士，”另一位回答道。“请像对待你的其他任何下属那样公正地对待我吧。你向我提了一个问题，我只不过回答它罢了。”
“你这条摇尾乞怜的狗，对他就没有什么抱怨的吗？”经理以寻常少见的易怒的脾气，说道，“难道就没有盛气凌人的态度、蛮横无礼的行为、愚笨无知的状态、吹毛求疵的挑剔，使你怨恨的吗？见你的鬼！你是人还是耗子？”
“任何两个人，特别是上级和下级，如果相处这么多年，彼此没有一点怨言，这倒是奇怪的——不管怎么样，他是这么想的，”约翰•卡克回答道，“不过，撇开我的历史不提——”
“他的历史！”经理高声喊道，“哦，确有这么回事。这件事实本身使他成了一种特殊情况，因此就可以把他的一切全都一笔勾销！唔，往下讲吧。”
“我的这段历史，正像你所暗示的，使我具有独特的理由对他怀着感激的心情（其他的人很幸运，没有像我这样的理由），可是把这段历史撇开不提，公司里也确实没有一个人不是这样说和这样感觉的。难道你不认为这里有什么人对公司老板遭遇的不幸或灾祸会漠不关心或会对这不真正感到难过的吗？”
“当然，你有充分的理由对他感恩戴德！”经理轻蔑地说道。“唷，难道你不相信，把你留在这里是作为一个廉价的实例和著名的证据，说明董贝父子公司待人处事宽厚，因而有助于抬高这个大名鼎鼎的公司的美好声望吗？”
“我不相信，”他的哥哥温和地回答道，“很久以来我一直相信，是由于更为仁慈和无私的理由才把我留下来的。”
“我看你好像要背诵一段基督的什么训诫吧，”经理像山猫般咆哮道。
“不是，詹姆士，”另一位回答道，“虽然我们之间兄弟情谊的纽带早已断裂，并已被抛弃了——”
“谁断裂的，亲爱的先生？”经理问道。
“我，由于我的行为不正。我不把过失推到你身上。”
经理咬牙切齿，无声地回答道，“哼，你不把过失推到我身上！”然后嘱咐他继续说下去。
“我说，虽然我们之间已不存在兄弟情谊的纽带，我请求你不要用不必要的辱骂来攻击我，或者曲解我所说的或想要说的话，我只想向你提醒一点：如果你以为，你在这里远远超出所有其他的人，得到提拔，受到信任，享受荣誉（我知道，从一开始，你就是由于你的卓越才能和可以信赖而得到提拔的），你比任何人都能更随便地跟董贝先生交往，可以说，跟他保持着平等的关系，受到他的宠幸，由于他而发财致富，因此，公司里只有你一个人才关心他的幸福与名誉，如果你这样想的话，那么这将是一个错误。我真诚地相信，公司里，从你开始一直到职位最低的人，没有一个人不同样有着这样的感情。”
“你撒谎！”经理说道，他由于突然发怒，脸孔涨得通红。
“你是个伪君子，约翰•卡克，你说的是弥天大谎。”
“詹姆士，”另一位喊道，他的脸也涨红了。“你使用这些侮辱的语言打算干什么？我没惹你一丝一毫，你为什么这样卑鄙地对我使用这些语言？”
“我告诉你，”经理说道，“你的虚情假意与卑躬屈膝，公司里所有职员的虚情假意与卑躬屈膝，都不值得我那样做，”他咬咬大姆指，又咬咬别的指头，“我看透这一切，就像看透清澈的空气一样！这个公司所雇用的所有职员，在我与最低级职员之间的所有的人（你对他们很体贴，而且有理由这样，因为你的地位与他们相差不远），没有一个人看到他的主人受到屈辱会不由衷地感到高兴，没有一个人不暗地里恨他，没有一个人不希望他遭到灾祸而不是交上好运，没有一个人要是有力量和勇气的话会不反抗他的。愈是受到他宠幸的人就愈感受到他的蛮横无礼；愈接近他的人就愈疏远他。这就是这里所有职员们的信念！”
我不知道，”他的哥哥说道，他刚才被惹怒的感情立即被惊奇所代替，“谁用这样一些说法糟蹋你的耳朵的？为什么你偏想要来考验我而不去考验别人？不过你已经考验了我，愚弄了我，这一点我现在深信不疑。你刚才的态度和言论，跟我过去在你身上看到的截然不同。我只能再一次对你说，你被欺骗了。”
“我知道我是被欺骗了，”经理说道，“我已经对你说过了。”
“不是被我，”他的哥哥回答道。“而是被向你提供情况的人欺骗了，如果有这样的人的话；如果没有这样的人，那就是被你自己的想法和怀疑所欺骗了。”
“我没有任何怀疑，”经理说道。“我掌握千真万确的事实。你们这些胆小如鼠、卑鄙下贱、卑躬曲膝的狗！你们全都假装成同样的姿态，全都编造着同样的假话，全都哭诉着同样的话语，全都隐藏着同样显而易见的秘密。”
当他说完的时候，他的哥哥不再说什么，离开房间，把门关上，经理卡克先生把椅子拉近到壁炉跟前，开始用拨火棒轻轻地敲打着煤块。
“懦怯怕事、阿谀奉迎的无赖们，”他露出两排闪闪发光的牙齿，喃喃自语道，“他们没有一个人不假装出震惊与气愤的——！呸！他们只要一旦有了权势和使用权势的才智与胆量的话，那么就没有一个人不会把董贝的高傲摧毁、打倒，就像我耙出这些煤渣一样毫不留情的。”
当他把它们敲碎、撒在炉篦上的时候，他露出若有所思的微笑，看着自己所干的事情。“是的，即使没有王后的引诱也会这样的！”他立即补充了一句；“有一种高傲是不应当忘记的——它是我们相识的见证人！”说着，他就陷入了更为出神的沉思，坐在那里，对着正在暗黑下去的炉篦默想着，随后像一个人离开专心看着的书本一样地站了起来，向四周看看，拿了帽子和手套，走到他的马正在等候他的地方，骑上马，沿着灯光明亮的街道骑去，因为这时已是晚上了。
他骑近董贝先生的住宅；快到的时候，他勒住马，让马放慢脚步，一步一步地走着，同时望着上面的窗子。有一次他曾看到弗洛伦斯带着她的狗坐在里面的那个窗子首先吸引了他的注意，虽然这时里面已没有灯光了；可是当他把眼光投到这座公馆高大的正面的时候，他微笑了，似乎目空一切地把那窗子抛在后面。
“过去有一段时候，”他说道，“甚至连您这颗升起的小星也是值得注视的，而且还得知道乌云聚集在什么地方，以便在需要的时候好去掩护您。可是现在一颗行星升上来了，在它的光辉中您已经黯然失色了。”
他把白腿的马转到街道拐角处，从这座公馆背面的许多窗子中寻找一个闪射出亮光的窗子。这个窗子使他联想起那庄严的态度，那戴上手套的手，也使他回想起那只美丽的鸟儿的翅膀上的羽毛怎样纷纷落到地板上，长衣上那轻飘飘的白色绒毛怎样颤抖着，发出沙沙的，就像面临即将刮起的风暴一样。当他又转身离开，以快速的步伐骑过公园的黑暗的、无人的小路的时候，他带走了这些回忆。
不可避免的事实是，这些回忆都跟一位女人，一位高傲的女人联系着；她憎恨他，但是由于他采取了狡猾的手腕，也由于她怀着高傲与怨恨的情绪，她被慢慢地而又确实地引导到习惯于容忍他跟她在一起相处了；她逐渐地习惯于把他当作一位有特殊权利的人来接待，他有权向她谈到她对她自己丈夫无礼的轻蔑和她自暴自弃地轻视自己。这些回忆跟一位女人联系着；她深切地憎恨他，她了解他，并正因为她了解他和因为他了解她，所以她不信任他；可是尽管她对他怀着憎恨，她却容许他一天天地接近她，以便激起她强烈的怨恨。尽管她对他怀着憎恨！正是由于这个理由她才容许他一天天地接近她的；因为在这憎恨的深渊（它太深了，虽然她能模糊地向里面探视，但却不是她的威胁性的眼光所能看透的）隐藏着她狠毒的报复，它的最淡弱的影子足以玷污她的灵魂；只要看一次就会令人毛骨悚然，决不会再去看的。
当他骑马的时候，这女人的幻影，这与真实完全一致、他看得明明白白的幻影，是不是在他的周围飞翔呢？
是的。他在心中看到她，一如她平时的样子。她容忍他跟她在一起的时候，在他眼中，她那高傲、怨恨、憎恶的情绪，就像她美丽的容貌一样清清楚楚。没有什么能比她对他的憎恨更为清楚的了。他有时看到她在他身旁态度傲慢，拒人于千里之外；有时又看到她摔倒在他的马蹄下，躺在尘土中。但是他总是看到她，就像她平时的样子，没有任何掩饰，而且注视着她在向着危险的道路上走去。
当他骑马游逛之后，换上衣服，低着头，露出谄媚的微笑，轻声柔语地走进她的明亮的房间里的时候，他同样清楚地看到她。他甚至对那戴上手套的手的秘密产生了猜疑，正由于这个猜疑，他把它在他手中握得比以前更久一些。他依旧跟随着她在危险的道路上走去，她所留下的每个脚印，他都把自己的脚紧跟着踩在上面。
Chapter 47
The Thunderbolt
The barrier between Mr Dombey and his wife was not weakened by time. Ill-assorted couple, unhappy in themselves and in each other, bound together by no tie but the manacle that joined their fettered hands, and straining that so harshly, in their shrinking asunder, that it wore and chafed to the bone, Time, consoler of affliction and softener of anger, could do nothing to help them. Their pride, however different in kind and object, was equal in degree; and, in their flinty opposition, struck out fire between them which might smoulder or might blaze, as circumstances were, but burned up everything within their mutual reach, and made their marriage way a road of ashes.
Let us be just to him. In the monstrous delusion of his life, swelling with every grain of sand that shifted in its glass, he urged her on, he little thought to what, or considered how; but still his feeling towards her, such as it was, remained as at first. She had the grand demerit of unaccountably putting herself in opposition to the recognition of his vast importance, and to the acknowledgment of her complete submission to it, and so far it was necessary to correct and reduce her; but otherwise he still considered her, in his cold way, a lady capable of doing honour, if she would, to his choice and name, and of reflecting credit on his proprietorship.
Now, she, with all her might of passionate and proud resentment, bent her dark glance from day to day, and hour to hour - from that night in her own chamber, when she had sat gazing at the shadows on the wall, to the deeper night fast coming - upon one figure directing a crowd of humiliations and exasperations against her; and that figure, still her husband's.
Was Mr Dombey's master-vice, that ruled him so inexorably, an unnatural characteristic? It might be worthwhile, sometimes, to inquire what Nature is, and how men work to change her, and whether, in the enforced distortions so produced, it is not natural to be unnatural. Coop any son or daughter of our mighty mother within narrow range, and bind the prisoner to one idea, and foster it by servile worship of it on the part of the few timid or designing people standing round, and what is Nature to the willing captive who has never risen up upon the wings of a free mind - drooping and useless soon - to see her in her comprehensive truth!
Alas! are there so few things in the world, about us, most unnatural, and yet most natural in being so? Hear the magistrate or judge admonish the unnatural outcasts of society; unnatural in brutal habits, unnatural in want of decency, unnatural in losing and confounding all distinctions between good and evil; unnatural in ignorance, in vice, in recklessness, in contumacy, in mind, in looks, in everything. But follow the good clergyman or doctor, who, with his life imperilled at every breath he draws, goes down into their dens, lying within the echoes of our carriage wheels and daily tread upon the pavement stones. Look round upon the world of odious sights - millions of immortal creatures have no other world on earth - at the lightest mention of which humanity revolts, and dainty delicacy living in the next street, stops her ears, and lisps 'I don't believe it!' Breathe the polluted air, foul with every impurity that is poisonous to health and life; and have every sense, conferred upon our race for its delight and happiness, offended, sickened and disgusted, and made a channel by which misery and death alone can enter. Vainly attempt to think of any simple plant, or flower, or wholesome weed, that, set in this foetid bed, could have its natural growth, or put its little leaves off to the sun as GOD designed it. And then, calling up some ghastly child, with stunted form and wicked face, hold forth on its unnatural sinfulness, and lament its being, so early, far away from Heaven - but think a little of its having been conceived, and born and bred, in Hell!
Those who study the physical sciences, and bring them to bear upon the health of Man, tell us that if the noxious particles that rise from vitiated air were palpable to the sight, we should see them lowering in a dense black cloud above such haunts, and rolling slowly on to corrupt the better portions of a town. But if the moral pestilence that rises with them, and in the eternal laws of our Nature, is inseparable from them, could be made discernible too, how terrible the revelation! Then should we see depravity, impiety, drunkenness, theft, murder, and a long train of nameless sins against the natural affections and repulsions of mankind, overhanging the devoted spots, and creeping on, to blight the innocent and spread contagion among the pure. Then should we see how the same poisoned fountains that flow into our hospitals and lazar-houses, inundate the jails, and make the convict-ships swim deep, and roll across the seas, and over-run vast continents with crime. Then should we stand appalled to know, that where we generate disease to strike our children down and entail itself on unborn generations, there also we breed, by the same certain process, infancy that knows no innocence, youth without modesty or shame, maturity that is mature in nothing but in suffering and guilt, blasted old age that is a scandal on the form we bear. unnatural humanity! When we shall gather grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles; when fields of grain shall spring up from the offal in the bye-ways of our wicked cities, and roses bloom in the fat churchyards that they cherish; then we may look for natural humanity, and find it growing from such seed.
Oh for a good spirit who would take the house-tops off, with a mole potent and benignant hand than the lame demon in the tale, and show a Christian people what dark shapes issue from amidst their homes, to swell the retinue of the Destroying Angel as he moves forth among them! For only one night's view of the pale phantoms rising from the scenes of our too-long neglect; and from the thick and sullen air where Vice and Fever propagate together, raining the tremendous social retributions which are ever pouring down, and ever coming thicker! Bright and blest the morning that should rise on such a night: for men, delayed no more by stumbling-blocks of their own making, which are but specks of dust upon the path between them and eternity, would then apply themselves, like creatures of one common origin, owing one duty to the Father of one family, and tending to one common end, to make the world a better place!
Not the less bright and blest would that day be for rousing some who never have looked out upon the world of human life around them, to a knowledge of their own relation to it, and for making them acquainted with a perversion of nature in their own contracted sympathies and estimates; as great, and yet as natural in its development when once begun, as the lowest degradation known.'
But no such day had ever dawned on Mr Dombey, or his wife; and the course of each was taken.
Through six months that ensued upon his accident, they held the same relations one towards the other. A marble rock could not have stood more obdurately in his way than she; and no chilled spring, lying uncheered by any ray of light in the depths of a deep cave, could be more sullen or more cold than he.
The hope that had fluttered within her when the promise of her new home dawned, was quite gone from the heart of Florence 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 experience. If she had any lingering fancy in the nature of hope left, that Edith and her father might be happier together, in some distant time, she had none, now, that her father would ever love her. The little interval in which she had imagined that she saw some small relenting in him, was forgotten in the long remembrance of his coldness since and before, or only remembered as a sorrowful delusion.
Florence loved him still, but, by degrees, had come to love him rather as some dear one who had been, or who might have been, than as the hard reality before her eyes. Something of the softened sadness with which she loved the memory of little Paul, or of her mother, seemed to enter now into her thoughts of him, and to make them, as it were, a dear remembrance. Whether it was that he was dead to her, and that partly for this reason, partly for his share in those old objects of her affection, and partly for the long association of him with hopes that were withered and tendernesses he had frozen, she could not have told; but the father whom she loved began to be a vague and dreamy idea to her: hardly more substantially connected with her real life, than the image she would sometimes conjure up, of her dear brother yet alive, and growing to be a man, who would protect and cherish her.
The change, if it may be called one, had stolen on her like the change from childhood to womanhood, and had come with it. Florence was almost seventeen, when, in her lonely musings, she was conscious of these thoughts.'
She was often alone now, for the old association between her and her Mama was greatly changed. At the time of her father's accident, and when he was lying in his room downstairs, Florence had first observed that Edith avoided her. Wounded and shocked, and yet unable to reconcile this with her affection when they did meet, she sought her in her own room at night, once more.
'Mama,' said Florence, stealing softly to her side, 'have I offended you?'
Edith answered 'No.'
'I must have done something,' said Florence. 'Tell me what it is. You have changed your manner to me, dear Mama. I cannot say how instantly I feel the least change; for I love you with my whole heart.'
'As I do you,' said Edith. 'Ah, Florence, believe me never more than now!'
'Why do you go away from me so often, and keep away?' asked Florence. 'And why do you sometimes look so strangely on me, dear Mama? You do so, do you not?'
Edith signified assent with her dark eyes.
'Why?' returned Florence imploringly. 'Tell me why, that I may know how to please you better; and tell me this shall not be so any more.
'My Florence,' answered Edith, taking the hand that embraced her neck, and looking into the eyes that looked into hers so lovingly, as Florence knelt upon the ground before her; 'why it is, I cannot tell you. It is neither for me to say, nor you to hear; but that it is, and that it must be, I know. Should I do it if I did not?'
'Are we to be estranged, Mama?' asked Florence, gazing at her like one frightened.
Edith's silent lips formed 'Yes.'
Florence looked at her with increasing fear and wonder, until she could see her no more through the blinding tears that ran down her face.
'Florence! my life!' said Edith, hurriedly, 'listen to me. I cannot bear to see this grief. Be calmer. You see that I am composed, and is it nothing to me?'
She resumed her steady voice and manner as she said the latter words, and added presently:
'Not wholly estranged. Partially: and only that, in appearance, Florence, for in my own breast I am still the same to you, and ever will be. But what I do is not done for myself.'
