CHARLES DICKENS DOMBEY AND SON CHAPTER I Dombey and ...

She started, stopped, and looked in.
A light was burning there, and showed her Florence in her bloom of innocence
and beauty, fast asleep. Edith held her breath, and felt herself drawn on
towards her.
Drawn nearer, nearer, nearer yet; at last, drawn so near, that stooping
down, she pressed her lips to the gentle hand that lay outside the bed, and
put it softly to her neck. Its touch was like the prophet's rod of old upon
the rock. Her tears sprung forth beneath it, as she sunk upon her knees, and
laid her aching head and streaming hair upon the pillow by its side.
Thus Edith Granger passed the night before her bridal. Thus the sun found
her on her bridal morning.
CHAPTER XXXI
The Wedding
DAWN, with its passionless blank face, steals shivering to the church
beneath which lies the dust of little Paul and his mother, and looks in at
the windows. It is cold and dark. Night crouches yet, upon the pavement, and
broods, sombre and heavy, in nooks and corners of the building. The
steeple-clock, perched up above the houses, emerging from beneath another of
the countless ripples in the tide of time that regularly roll and break on
the eternal shore, is greyly visible, like a stone beacon, recording how the
sea flows on; but within doors, dawn, at first, can only peep at night, and
see that it is there.