Her heart beats quicker now, for Walter tells her that their church is very near. They pass a few great stacks of warehouses, with waggons at the doors, and busy carmen stopping up the way - but Florence does not see or hear them - and then the air is quiet, and the day is darkened, and she is trembling in a church which has a strange smell like a cellar.
The shabby little old man, ringer of the disappointed bell, is standing in the porch, and has put his hat in the font - for he is quite at home there, being sexton. He ushers them into an old brown, panelled, dusty vestry, like a corner-cupboard with the shelves taken out; where the wormy registers diffuse a smell like faded snuff, which has set the tearful Nipper sneezing.
Youthful, and how beautiful, the young bride looks, in this old dusty place, with no kindred object near her but her husband. There is a dusty old clerk, who keeps a sort of evaporated news shop underneath an archway opposite, behind a perfect fortification of posts. There is a dusty old pew-opener who only keeps herself, and finds that quite enough to do. There is a dusty old beadle (these are Mr Toots's beadle and pew-opener of last Sunday), who has something to do with a Worshipful Company who have got a Hall in the next yard, with a stained-glass window in it that no mortal ever saw. There are dusty wooden ledges and cornices poked in and out over the altar, and over the screen and round the gallery, and over the inscription about what the Master and Wardens of the Worshipful Company did in one thousand six hundred and ninety-four. There are dusty old sounding-boards over the pulpit and reading-desk, looking like lids to be let down on the officiating ministers in case of their giving offence. There is every possible provision for the accommodation of dust, except in the churchyard, where the facilities in that respect are very limited. The Captain, Uncle Sol, and Mr Toots are come; the clergyman is putting on his surplice in the vestry, while the clerk walks round him, blowing the dust off it; and the bride and bridegroom stand before the altar. There is no bridesmaid, unless Susan Nipper is one; and no better father than Captain Cuttle. A man with a wooden leg, chewing a faint apple and carrying a blue bag in has hand, looks in to see what is going on; but finding it nothing entertaining, stumps off again, and pegs his way among the echoes out of doors.
No gracious ray of light is seen to fall on Florence, kneeling at the altar with her timid head bowed down. The morning luminary is built out, and don't shine there. There is a meagre tree outside, where the sparrows are chirping a little; and there is a blackbird in an eyelet-hole of sun in a dyer's garret, over against the window, who whistles loudly whilst the service is performing; and there is the man with the wooden leg stumping away. The amens of the dusty clerk appear, like Macbeth's, to stick in his throat a little'; but Captain Cuttle helps him out, and does it with so much goodwill that he interpolates three entirely new responses of that word, never introduced into the service before.
They are married, and have signed their names in one of the old sneezy registers, and the clergyman's surplice is restored to the dust, and the clergymam is gone home. In a dark corner of the dark church, Florence has turned to Susan Nipper, and is weeping in her arms. Mr Toots's eyes are red. The Captain lubricates his nose. Uncle Sol has pulled down his spectacles from his forehead, and walked out to the door.
'God bless you, Susan; dearest Susan! If you ever can bear witness to the love I have for Walter, and the reason that I have to love him, do it for his sake. Good-bye! Good-bye!'
They have thought it better not to go back to the Midshipman, but to part so; a coach is waiting for them, near at hand.
Miss Nipper cannot speak; she only sobs and chokes, and hugs her mistress. Mr Toots advances, urges her to cheer up, and takes charge of her. Florence gives him her hand - gives him, in the fulness of her heart, her lips - kisses Uncle Sol, and Captain Cuttle, and is borne away by her young husband.
But Susan cannot bear that Florence should go away with a mournful recollection of her. She had meant to be so different, that she reproaches herself bitterly. Intent on making one last effort to redeem her character, she breaks from Mr Toots and runs away to find the coach, and show a parting smile. The Captain, divining her object, sets off after her; for he feels it his duty also to dismiss them with a cheer, if possible. Uncle Sol and Mr Toots are left behind together, outside the church, to wait for them.
The coach is gone, but the street is steep, and narrow, and blocked up, and Susan can see it at a stand-still in the distance, she is sure. Captain Cuttle follows her as she flies down the hill, and waves his glazed hat as a general signal, which may attract the right coach and which may not.
Susan outstrips the Captain, and comes up with it. She looks in at the window, sees Walter, with the gentle face beside him, and claps her hands and screams:
'Miss Floy, my darling! look at me! We are all so happy now, dear! One more good-bye, my precious, one more!'
How Susan does it, she don't know, but she reaches to the window, kisses her, and has her arms about her neck, in a moment.
We are all so happy now, my dear Miss Floy!' says Susan, with a suspicious catching in her breath. 'You, you won't be angry with me now. Now will you?'
'Angry, Susan!'
'No, no; I am sure you won't. I say you won't, my pet, my dearest!' exclaims Susan; 'and here's the Captain too - your friend the Captain, you know - to say good-bye once more!'
'Hooroar, my Heart's Delight!' vociferates the Captain, with a countenance of strong emotion. 'Hooroar, Wal'r my lad. Hooroar! Hooroar!'
What with the young husband at one window, and the young wife at the other; the Captain hanging on at this door, and Susan Nipper holding fast by that; the coach obliged to go on whether it will or no, and all the other carts and coaches turbulent because it hesitates; there never was so much confusion on four wheels. But Susan Nipper gallantly maintains her point. She keeps a smiling face upon her mistress, smiling through her tears, until the last. Even when she is left behind, the Captain continues to appear and disappear at the door, crying 'Hooroar, my lad! Hooroar, my Heart's Delight!' with his shirt-collar in a violent state of agitation, until it is hopeless to attempt to keep up with the coach any longer. Finally, when the coach is gone, Susan Nipper, being rejoined by the Captain, falls into a state of insensibility, and is taken into a baker's shop to recover.
Uncle Sol and Mr Toots wait patiently in the churchyard, sitting on the coping-stone of the railings, until Captain Cuttle and Susan come back, Neither being at all desirous to speak, or to be spoken to, they are excellent company, and quite satisfied. When they all arrive again at the little Midshipman, and sit down to breakfast, nobody can touch a morsel. Captain Cuttle makes a feint of being voracious about toast, but gives it up as a swindle. Mr Toots says, after breakfast, he will come back in the evening; and goes wandering about the town all day, with a vague sensation upon him as if he hadn't been to bed for a fortnight.
There is a strange charm in the house, and in the room, in which they have been used to be together, and out of which so much is gone. It aggravates, and yet it soothes, the sorrow of the separation. Mr Toots tells Susan Nipper when he comes at night, that he hasn't been so wretched all day long, and yet he likes it. He confides in Susan Nipper, being alone with her, and tells her what his feelings were when she gave him that candid opinion as to the probability of Miss Dombey's ever loving him. In the vein of confidence engendered by these common recollections, and their tears, Mr Toots proposes that they shall go out together, and buy something for supper. Miss Nipper assenting, they buy a good many little things; and, with the aid of Mrs Richards, set the supper out quite showily before the Captain and old Sol came home.
The Captain and old Sol have been on board the ship, and have established Di there, and have seen the chests put aboard. They have much to tell about the popularity of Walter, and the comforts he will have about him, and the quiet way in which it seems he has been working early and late, to make his cabin what the Captain calls 'a picter,' to surprise his little wife. 'A admiral's cabin, mind you,' says the Captain, 'ain't more trim.'
But one of the Captain's chief delights is, that he knows the big watch, and the sugar-tongs, and tea-spoons, are on board: and again and again he murmurs to himself, 'Ed'ard Cuttle, my lad, you never shaped a better course in your life than when you made that there little property over jintly. You see how the land bore, Ed'ard,' says the Captain, 'and it does you credit, my lad.'
The old Instrument-maker is more distraught and misty than he used to be, and takes the marriage and the parting very much to heart. But he is greatly comforted by having his old ally, Ned Cuttle, at his side; and he sits down to supper with a grateful and contented face.
'My boy has been preserved and thrives,' says old Sol Gills, rubbing his hands. 'What right have I to be otherwise than thankful and happy!'
The Captain, who has not yet taken his seat at the table, but who has been fidgeting about for some time, and now stands hesitating in his place, looks doubtfully at Mr Gills, and says:
'Sol! There's the last bottle of the old Madeira down below. Would you wish to have it up to-night, my boy, and drink to Wal'r and his wife?'
The Instrument-maker, looking wistfully at the Captain, puts his hand into the breast-pocket of his coffee-coloured coat, brings forth his pocket-book, and takes a letter out.
'To Mr Dombey,' says the old man. 'From Walter. To be sent in three weeks' time. I'll read it.'
'"Sir. I am married to your daughter. She is gone with me upon a distant voyage. To be devoted to her is to have no claim on her or you, but God knows that I am.
'"Why, loving her beyond all earthly things, I have yet, without remorse, united her to the uncertainties and dangers of my life, I will not say to you. You know why, and you are her father.
'"Do not reproach her. She has never reproached you.
'"I do not think or hope that you will ever forgive me. There is nothing I expect less. But if an hour should come when it will comfort you to believe that Florence has someone ever near her, the great charge of whose life is to cancel her remembrance of past sorrow, I solemnly assure you, you may, in that hour, rest in that belief."'
Solomon puts back the letter carefully in his pocket-book, and puts back his pocket-book in his coat.
'We won't drink the last bottle of the old Madeira yet, Ned,' says the old man thoughtfully. 'Not yet.
'Not yet,' assents the Captain. 'No. Not yet.'
Susan and Mr Toots are of the same opinion. After a silence they all sit down to supper, and drink to the young husband and wife in something else; and the last bottle of the old Madeira still remains among its dust and cobwebs, undisturbed.
A few days have elapsed, and a stately ship is out at sea, spreading its white wings to the favouring wind.
Upon the deck, image to the roughest man on board of something that is graceful, beautiful, and harmless - something that it is good and pleasant to have there, and that should make the voyage prosperous - is Florence. It is night, and she and Walter sit alone, watching the solemn path of light upon the sea between them and the moon.
At length she cannot see it plainly, for the tears that fill her eyes; and then she lays her head down on his breast, and puts her arms around his neck, saying, 'Oh Walter, dearest love, I am so happy!'
Her husband holds her to his heart, and they are very quiet, and the stately ship goes on serenely.
'As I hear the sea,' says Florence, 'and sit watching it, it brings so many days into my mind. It makes me think so much - '
'Of Paul, my love. I know it does.'
Of Paul and Walter. And the voices in the waves are always whispering to Florence, in their ceaseless murmuring, of love - of love, eternal and illimitable, not bounded by the confines of this world, or by the end of time, but ranging still, beyond the sea, beyond the sky, to the invisible country far away!
教区事务员桑兹先生和教堂领座人米福太太很早就到董贝先生结婚的那座华丽的教堂来，待在他们的工作岗位上了。这天上午有一位印度的黄脸的老先生要娶一位年轻的妻子，预料有六辆马车的客人要来参加婚礼。米福太太还听说，这位黄脸的老先生能够用钻石铺砌通到教堂的道路，而他几乎不会发觉他的财产少去了这样一笔数字。结婚的祝福仪式将是极为隆重的，——由副主教大师亲自主持，新娘将作为一个特别贵重的礼物，由警卫骑兵第三团特地派来的某个人送给男方主婚人。
米福太太这天早上对普通的人们比平日更不能容忍；在这个问题上她的意见向来是强烈的，因为这是与免费座位有关的。米福太太并不是研究政治经济学的（她认为这门科学是跟不信奉英国国教的人有关的，“跟浸礼教徒或韦斯利教派的教徒有关”，她说），可是她无论如何也不明白，为什么你们这些普通的人们也必须结婚。“讨厌！”米福太太说道，“您向他们念的东西跟向别人念的东西完全一样，可是从他们那里只能得到一些六便士的硬币，而得不到金镑！”
教区事务员桑兹先生比米福太太心胸宽大——不过要知道他不是个领座人。“事情还得办，夫人，”他说道，“我们还得让他们结婚。我们首先还得补充我们国民学校的学生，我们还得要有我们的常备军。我们还得让他们结婚，夫人，”桑兹先生说道，“这样才能使国家繁荣昌盛。”
桑兹先生坐在台阶上、米福太太在教堂里掸灰尘的时候，一对穿著朴素的年轻人走进教堂。米福太太的干瘪的帽子敏捷地转向他们，因为他们这样老早来到教堂，她从这一点看出这对人有从家里逃出来的迹象。可是他们并不想要结婚，“只是到教堂来转转，”——那位先生说道。由于他在米福太太的手掌里塞了慷慨的礼金，她那尖酸刻薄的脸孔就开朗起来了，她那干瘪的帽子和枯瘦的身形也向下低垂，行了个屈膝礼，并发出了窸窸窣窣的。
米福太太重新掸灰尘，并把坐垫敲打得蓬松一些——因为据说黄脸的老先生膝盖娇嫩——，但她那双没有光泽的、习惯于领座的眼睛并没有离开那对在教堂里走来走去的年轻人。“阿嗨，”米福太太咳嗽道，她的咳嗽比她管理的膝垫里的干草还要干，“你们不久有一天还会到我们这里来的，我这么说没错吧，我亲爱的。”
他们在看镶嵌在墙上的一块纪念某个死者的石碑。他们离米福太太很远，但是米福太太却能用半只眼睛看到她怎样靠在他的胳膊上，他的头怎样低垂到她的头上。“唔，唔，”米福太太说道，“你们可能做更荒唐的事情，因为你们是很巧妙的一对！”
在米福太太的话中没有吐露她个人的感情。她对成双结对的男女几乎并不比对棺材更感兴趣。她是一位消瘦的、笔直的、干枯的老太太——不像个女人，而像是一张教堂里的条凳式座位——，从她那里找到的同情就跟从木片中找到的一样多。但是肥头胖耳、穿着深红色饰边礼服的桑兹先生却是另一种性格的人。当他们站在台阶上目送着这一对年轻人离去的时候，他说，“这姑娘的身材优美，是不是？”，而且就他所能看到的来说（因为她走出教堂的时候低着头），她的面貌也非常漂亮。“总的来说，米福太太，”桑兹先生津津有味地说道，“您可以管她叫做一个玫瑰骨朵。”
米福太太戴着干瘪帽子的头微微地点了点，丝毫也不赞成这些话；桑兹先生虽然是个教区事务员，但她心里打定主意，不论他给她多少钱，她也决不做他的妻子。
这一对年轻人走出教堂，在大门口向外走去的时候，说了些什么呢？
“亲爱的沃尔特，谢谢你！现在我可以快乐地离开了。”
“我们回来的时候还可以再来看看他的坟墓，弗洛伦斯。”
弗洛伦斯抬起含着泪水、闪闪发亮的眼睛，看着他的亲切的脸。她把空着一只手紧握着另一只紧挽着他胳膊的手。
“现在很早，沃尔特，街上几乎还没有人。我们走着去吧。”
“可是您会很累的，我亲爱的。”
“不不！我们第一次一起走的时候我是很累的，但是今天我不会累。”
就这样，弗洛伦斯和沃尔特在他们结婚的这天早上，一起在街道上走着；跟过去没有很大的变化——她，仍旧那样的天真无邪，真心诚意；他，仍旧那样心胸坦率、朝气蓬勃，可是却更因为她而感到自豪了。
甚至在好多年以前的孩子的步行中，他们也不曾像今天这样远离周围整个世界。好多年以前孩子的脚步也不曾像他们现在的脚步这样踩着如此迷人的土地。孩子的信任与爱可以给出许多次，并会在许多地方生长起来，可是弗洛伦斯的女性的心和它所珍藏着的不可分割的爱却只能给出一次，如果遭到冷落与不忠的话，那么它就只能萎靡不振，然后死去。
他们选择了最安静的街道，并且不是走近她老家所在的街道。这是个睛朗的、温暖的夏天的早晨；当他们朝着笼罩着伦敦城的阴沉沉的雾走去的时候，太阳照耀着他们。宝贵的货物在商店中陈列着；宝石、金、银在首饰商的阳光充足的窗子中闪耀着；当他们走过的时候，高大的房屋在他们身上投下了庄严的阴影。可是他们在阳光中、在阴影中相亲相爱地一起向前走去，看不见周围的一切；除了他们在彼此身上找到的财富之外，他们没有想到任何其他财富；除了他们在彼此身上找到的家之外，他们没有想到其他更值得自豪的家。
他们渐渐地走进了比较阴暗、比较狭窄的街道；在这些街道里，只有在那些街道角落里和那些小片敞开的地方才能通过薄雾看到时而黄色、时而红色的太阳；在那些小片敞开的地方，或者有株树，或者有一座教堂，或者有一条铺砌的道路和一座台阶，或者有一小片意趣奇妙的花园，或者有一片墓地，墓地上寥寥无几的坟墓和墓碑几乎已发黑了。弗洛伦斯相亲相爱地、信任地、紧紧挽着他的胳膊，穿过所有狭窄的围场与胡同以及阴暗的街道，向前走去，去成为他的妻子。
