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

Her glance was brighter than her mother's, and the fire that shone in it was
fiercer; but her face was colourless, even to her lips.
They said no more, but sat apart; the mother communing with her money; the
daughter with her thoughts; the glance of each, shining in the gloom of the
feebly lighted room. Rob slept and snored. The disregarded parrot only was
in action. It twisted and pulled at the wires of its cage, with its crooked
beak, and crawled up to the dome, and along its roof like a fly, and down
again head foremost, and shook, and bit, and rattled at every slender bar,
as if it knew its master's danger, and was wild to force a passage out, and
fly away to warn him of it.
CHAPTER LIII
More Intelligence
THERE were two of the traitor's own blood--his renounced brother and
sister--on whom the weight of his guilt rested almost more heavily, at this
time, than on the man whom he had so deeply injured. Prying and tormenting
as the world was, it did Mr. Dombey the service of nerving him to pursuit
and revenge. It roused his passion, stung his pride, twisted the one idea of
his life into a new shape, and made some gratification of his wrath, the
object into which his whole intellectual existence resolved itself. All the
stubbornness and implacability of his nature, all its hard impenetrable
quality, all its gloom and moroseness, all its exaggerated sense of personal
importance, all its jealous disposition to resent the least flaw in the
ample recognition of his importance by others, set this way like many
streams united into one, and bore him on upon their tide. The most
impetuously passionate and violently impulsive of mankind would have been a