It was a momentary thought, too hopeless to encourage; and her father stood there with the light--hard, unresponsive, motionless--until the fluttering dress of his fair child was lost in the darkness.
Let him remember it in that room, years to come.

The rain that falls upon the roof: the wind that mourns outside the door: may have foreknowledge in their melancholy sound.

Let him remember it in that room, years to come! The last time he had watched her, from the same place, winding up those stairs, she had had her brother in her arms.

It did not move his heart towards her now, it steeled it: but he went into his room, and locked his door, and sat down in his chair, and cried for his lost boy.
Diogenes was broad awake upon his post, and waiting for his little mistress.
'Oh, Di! Oh, dear Di! Love me for his sake!' Diogenes already loved her for her own, and didn't care how much he showed it.

So he made himself vastly ridiculous by performing a variety of uncouth bounces in the ante-chamber, and concluded, when poor Florence was at last asleep, and dreaming of the rosy children opposite, by scratching open her bedroom door: rolling up his bed into a pillow: lying down on the boards, at the full length of his tether, with his head towards her: and looking lazily at her, upside down, out of the tops of his eyes, until from winking and winking he fell asleep himself, and dreamed, with gruff barks, of his enemy..