Book + 

the Third + 

Garnering + 

I + 

Another Thing Needful + 

Louisa awoke from a torpor, and her eyes languidly opened on her old bed at home, and her old room. It seemed, at first, as if all that had happened since the days when these objects were familiar to her were the shadows of a dream, but gradually, as the objects became more real to her sight, the events became more real to her mind. + 

She could scarcely move her head for pain and heaviness, her eyes were strained and sore, and she was very weak. A curious passive inattention had such possession of her, that the presence of her little sister in the room did not attract her notice for some time. Even when their eyes had met, and her sister had approached the bed, Louisa lay for minutes looking at her in silence, and suffering her timidly to hold her passive hand, before she asked: + 

тАЬWhen was I brought to this room?тАЭ + 

тАЬLast night, Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬWho brought me here?тАЭ + 

тАЬSissy, I believe.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy do you believe so?тАЭ + 

тАЬBecause I found her here this morning. She didnтАЩt come to my bedside to wake me, as she always does; and I went to look for her. She was not in her own room either; and I went looking for her all over the house, until I found her here taking care of you and cooling your head. Will you see father? Sissy said I was to tell him when you woke.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat a beaming face you have, Jane!тАЭ said Louisa, as her young sisterтБатАФtimidly stillтБатАФbent down to kiss her. + 

тАЬHave I? I am very glad you think so. I am sure it must be SissyтАЩs doing.тАЭ + 

The arm Louisa had begun to twine around her neck, unbent itself. тАЬYou can tell father if you will.тАЭ Then, staying her for a moment, she said, тАЬIt was you who made my room so cheerful, and gave it this look of welcome?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh no, Louisa, it was done before I came. It wasтБатАФтАЭ + 

Louisa turned upon her pillow, and heard no more. When her sister had withdrawn, she turned her head back again, and lay with her face towards the door, until it opened and her father entered. + 

He had a jaded anxious look upon him, and his hand, usually steady, trembled in hers. He sat down at the side of the bed, tenderly asking how she was, and dwelling on the necessity of her keeping very quiet after her agitation and exposure to the weather last night. He spoke in a subdued and troubled voice, very different from his usual dictatorial manner; and was often at a loss for words. + 

тАЬMy dear Louisa. My poor daughter.тАЭ He was so much at a loss at that place, that he stopped altogether. He tried again. + 

тАЬMy unfortunate child.тАЭ The place was so difficult to get over, that he tried again. + 

тАЬIt would be hopeless for me, Louisa, to endeavour to tell you how overwhelmed I have been, and still am, by what broke upon me last night. The ground on which I stand has ceased to be solid under my feet. The only support on which I leaned, and the strength of which it seemed, and still does seem, impossible to question, has given way in an instant. I am stunned by these discoveries. I have no selfish meaning in what I say; but I find the shock of what broke upon me last night, to be very heavy indeed.тАЭ + 

She could give him no comfort herein. She had suffered the wreck of her whole life upon the rock. + 

тАЬI will not say, Louisa, that if you had by any happy chance undeceived me some time ago, it would have been better for us both; better for your peace, and better for mine. For I am sensible that it may not have been a part of my system to invite any confidence of that kind. I had proved myтБатАФmy system to myself, and I have rigidly administered it; and I must bear the responsibility of its failures. I only entreat you to believe, my favourite child, that I have meant to do right.тАЭ + 

He said it earnestly, and to do him justice he had. In gauging fathomless deeps with his little mean excise-rod, and in staggering over the universe with his rusty stiff-legged compasses, he had meant to do great things. Within the limits of his short tether he had tumbled about, annihilating the flowers of existence with greater singleness of purpose than many of the blatant personages whose company he kept. + 

тАЬI am well assured of what you say, father. I know I have been your favourite child. I know you have intended to make me happy. I have never blamed you, and I never shall.тАЭ + 

He took her outstretched hand, and retained it in his. + 

тАЬMy dear, I have remained all night at my table, pondering again and again on what has so painfully passed between us. When I consider your character; when I consider that what has been known to me for hours, has been concealed by you for years; when I consider under what immediate pressure it has been forced from you at last; I come to the conclusion that I cannot but mistrust myself.тАЭ + 

He might have added more than all, when he saw the face now looking at him. He did add it in effect, perhaps, as he softly moved her scattered hair from her forehead with his hand. Such little actions, slight in another man, were very noticeable in him; and his daughter received them as if they had been words of contrition. + 

тАЬBut,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, slowly, and with hesitation, as well as with a wretched sense of happiness, тАЬif I see reason to mistrust myself for the past, Louisa, I should also mistrust myself for the present and the future. To speak unreservedly to you, I do. I am far from feeling convinced now, however differently I might have felt only this time yesterday, that I am fit for the trust you repose in me; that I know how to respond to the appeal you have come home to make to me; that I have the right instinctтБатАФsupposing it for the moment to be some quality of that natureтБатАФhow to help you, and to set you right, my child.тАЭ + 

She had turned upon her pillow, and lay with her face upon her arm, so that he could not see it. All her wildness and passion had subsided; but, though softened, she was not in tears. Her father was changed in nothing so much as in the respect that he would have been glad to see her in tears. + 

тАЬSome persons hold,тАЭ he pursued, still hesitating, тАЬthat there is a wisdom of the head, and that there is a wisdom of the heart. I have not supposed so; but, as I have said, I mistrust myself now. I have supposed the head to be all-sufficient. It may not be all-sufficient; how can I venture this morning to say it is! If that other kind of wisdom should be what I have neglected, and should be the instinct that is wanted, LouisaтБатАФтАЭ + 

He suggested it very doubtfully, as if he were half unwilling to admit it even now. She made him no answer, lying before him on her bed, still half-dressed, much as he had seen her lying on the floor of his room last night. + 

тАЬLouisa,тАЭ and his hand rested on her hair again, тАЬI have been absent from here, my dear, a good deal of late; and though your sisterтАЩs training has been pursued according toтБатАФthe system,тАЭ he appeared to come to that word with great reluctance always, тАЬit has necessarily been modified by daily associations begun, in her case, at an early age. I ask youтБатАФignorantly and humbly, my daughterтБатАФfor the better, do you think?тАЭ + 

тАЬFather,тАЭ she replied, without stirring, тАЬif any harmony has been awakened in her young breast that was mute in mine until it turned to discord, let her thank Heaven for it, and go upon her happier way, taking it as her greatest blessing that she has avoided my way.тАЭ + 

тАЬO my child, my child!тАЭ he said, in a forlorn manner, тАЬI am an unhappy man to see you thus! What avails it to me that you do not reproach me, if I so bitterly reproach myself!тАЭ He bent his head, and spoke low to her. тАЬLouisa, I have a misgiving that some change may have been slowly working about me in this house, by mere love and gratitude: that what the head had left undone and could not do, the heart may have been doing silently. Can it be so?тАЭ + 

She made him no reply. + 

тАЬI am not too proud to believe it, Louisa. How could I be arrogant, and you before me! Can it be so? Is it so, my dear?тАЭ He looked upon her once more, lying cast away there; and without another word went out of the room. He had not been long gone, when she heard a light tread near the door, and knew that someone stood beside her. + 

She did not raise her head. A dull anger that she should be seen in her distress, and that the involuntary look she had so resented should come to this fulfilment, smouldered within her like an unwholesome fire. All closely imprisoned forces rend and destroy. The air that would be healthful to the earth, the water that would enrich it, the heat that would ripen it, tear it when caged up. So in her bosom even now; the strongest qualities she possessed, long turned upon themselves, became a heap of obduracy, that rose against a friend. + 

It was well that soft touch came upon her neck, and that she understood herself to be supposed to have fallen asleep. The sympathetic hand did not claim her resentment. Let it lie there, let it lie. + 

It lay there, warming into life a crowd of gentler thoughts; and she rested. As she softened with the quiet, and the consciousness of being so watched, some tears made their way into her eyes. The face touched hers, and she knew that there were tears upon it too, and she the cause of them. + 

As Louisa feigned to rouse herself, and sat up, Sissy retired, so that she stood placidly near the bedside. + 

тАЬI hope I have not disturbed you. I have come to ask if you would let me stay with you?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy should you stay with me? My sister will miss you. You are everything to her.тАЭ + 

тАЬAm I?тАЭ returned Sissy, shaking her head. тАЬI would be something to you, if I might.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat?тАЭ said Louisa, almost sternly. + 

тАЬWhatever you want most, if I could be that. At all events, I would like to try to be as near it as I can. And however far off that may be, I will never tire of trying. Will you let me?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy father sent you to ask me.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo indeed,тАЭ replied Sissy. тАЬHe told me that I might come in now, but he sent me away from the room this morningтБатАФor at leastтБатАФтАЭ + 

She hesitated and stopped. + 

тАЬAt least, what?тАЭ said Louisa, with her searching eyes upon her. + 

тАЬI thought it best myself that I should be sent away, for I felt very uncertain whether you would like to find me here.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave I always hated you so much?тАЭ + 

тАЬI hope not, for I have always loved you, and have always wished that you should know it. But you changed to me a little, shortly before you left home. Not that I wondered at it. You knew so much, and I knew so little, and it was so natural in many ways, going as you were among other friends, that I had nothing to complain of, and was not at all hurt.тАЭ + 

Her colour rose as she said it modestly and hurriedly. Louisa understood the loving pretence, and her heart smote her. + 

тАЬMay I try?тАЭ said Sissy, emboldened to raise her hand to the neck that was insensibly drooping towards her. + 

Louisa, taking down the hand that would have embraced her in another moment, held it in one of hers, and answered: + 

тАЬFirst, Sissy, do you know what I am? I am so proud and so hardened, so confused and troubled, so resentful and unjust to everyone and to myself, that everything is stormy, dark, and wicked to me. Does not that repel you?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo!тАЭ + 

тАЬI am so unhappy, and all that should have made me otherwise is so laid waste, that if I had been bereft of sense to this hour, and instead of being as learned as you think me, had to begin to acquire the simplest truths, I could not want a guide to peace, contentment, honour, all the good of which I am quite devoid, more abjectly than I do. Does not that repel you?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo!тАЭ + 

In the innocence of her brave affection, and the brimming up of her old devoted spirit, the once deserted girl shone like a beautiful light upon the darkness of the other. + 

Louisa raised the hand that it might clasp her neck and join its fellow there. She fell upon her knees, and clinging to this strollerтАЩs child looked up at her almost with veneration. + 

тАЬForgive me, pity me, help me! Have compassion on my great need, and let me lay this head of mine upon a loving heart!тАЭ + 

тАЬO lay it here!тАЭ cried Sissy. тАЬLay it here, my dear.тАЭ + 

II + 

Very Ridiculous + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse passed a whole night and a day in a state of so much hurry, that the World, with its best glass in his eye, would scarcely have recognized him during that insane interval, as the brother Jem of the honourable and jocular member. He was positively agitated. He several times spoke with an emphasis, similar to the vulgar manner. He went in and went out in an unaccountable way, like a man without an object. He rode like a highwayman. In a word, he was so horribly bored by existing circumstances, that he forgot to go in for boredom in the manner prescribed by the authorities. + 

After putting his horse at Coketown through the storm, as if it were a leap, he waited up all night: from time to time ringing his bell with the greatest fury, charging the porter who kept watch with delinquency in withholding letters or messages that could not fail to have been entrusted to him, and demanding restitution on the spot. The dawn coming, the morning coming, and the day coming, and neither message nor letter coming with either, he went down to the country house. There, the report was, Mr.┬аBounderby away, and Mrs.┬аBounderby in town. Left for town suddenly last evening. Not even known to be gone until receipt of message, importing that her return was not to be expected for the present. + 

In these circumstances he had nothing for it but to follow her to town. He went to the house in town. Mrs.┬аBounderby not there. He looked in at the Bank. Mr.┬аBounderby away and Mrs.┬аSparsit away. Mrs.┬аSparsit away? Who could have been reduced to sudden extremity for the company of that griffin! + 

тАЬWell! I donтАЩt know,тАЭ said Tom, who had his own reasons for being uneasy about it. тАЬShe was off somewhere at daybreak this morning. SheтАЩs always full of mystery; I hate her. So I do that white chap; heтАЩs always got his blinking eyes upon a fellow.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere were you last night, Tom?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere was I last night!тАЭ said Tom. тАЬCome! I like that. I was waiting for you, Mr.┬аHarthouse, till it came down as I never saw it come down before. Where was I too! Where were you, you mean.тАЭ + 

тАЬI was prevented from comingтБатАФdetained.тАЭ + 

тАЬDetained!тАЭ murmured Tom. тАЬTwo of us were detained. I was detained looking for you, till I lost every train but the mail. It would have been a pleasant job to go down by that on such a night, and have to walk home through a pond. I was obliged to sleep in town after all.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere? Why, in my own bed at BounderbyтАЩs.тАЭ + 

тАЬDid you see your sister?тАЭ + 

тАЬHow the deuce,тАЭ returned Tom, staring, тАЬcould I see my sister when she was fifteen miles off?тАЭ + 

Cursing these quick retorts of the young gentleman to whom he was so true a friend, Mr.┬аHarthouse disembarrassed himself of that interview with the smallest conceivable amount of ceremony, and debated for the hundredth time what all this could mean? He made only one thing clear. It was, that whether she was in town or out of town, whether he had been premature with her who was so hard to comprehend, or she had lost courage, or they were discovered, or some mischance or mistake, at present incomprehensible, had occurred, he must remain to confront his fortune, whatever it was. The hotel where he was known to live when condemned to that region of blackness, was the stake to which he was tied. As to all the restтБатАФwhat will be, will be. + 

тАЬSo, whether I am waiting for a hostile message, or an assignation, or a penitent remonstrance, or an impromptu wrestle with my friend Bounderby in the Lancashire mannerтБатАФwhich would seem as likely as anything else in the present state of affairsтБатАФIтАЩll dine,тАЭ said Mr.┬аJames Harthouse. тАЬBounderby has the advantage in point of weight; and if anything of a British nature is to come off between us, it may be as well to be in training.тАЭ + 

Therefore he rang the bell, and tossing himself negligently on a sofa, ordered тАЬSome dinner at sixтБатАФwith a beefsteak in it,тАЭ and got through the intervening time as well as he could. That was not particularly well; for he remained in the greatest perplexity, and, as the hours went on, and no kind of explanation offered itself, his perplexity augmented at compound interest. + 

However, he took affairs as coolly as it was in human nature to do, and entertained himself with the facetious idea of the training more than once. тАЬIt wouldnтАЩt be bad,тАЭ he yawned at one time, тАЬto give the waiter five shillings, and throw him.тАЭ At another time it occurred to him, тАЬOr a fellow of about thirteen or fourteen stone might be hired by the hour.тАЭ But these jests did not tell materially on the afternoon, or his suspense; and, sooth to say, they both lagged fearfully. + 

It was impossible, even before dinner, to avoid often walking about in the pattern of the carpet, looking out of the window, listening at the door for footsteps, and occasionally becoming rather hot when any steps approached that room. But, after dinner, when the day turned to twilight, and the twilight turned to night, and still no communication was made to him, it began to be as he expressed it, тАЬlike the Holy Office and slow torture.тАЭ However, still true to his conviction that indifference was the genuine high-breeding (the only conviction he had), he seized this crisis as the opportunity for ordering candles and a newspaper. + 

He had been trying in vain, for half an hour, to read this newspaper, when the waiter appeared and said, at once mysteriously and apologetically: + 

тАЬBeg your pardon, sir. YouтАЩre wanted, sir, if you please.тАЭ + 

A general recollection that this was the kind of thing the police said to the swell mob, caused Mr.┬аHarthouse to ask the waiter in return, with bristling indignation, what the Devil he meant by тАЬwantedтАЭ? + 

тАЬBeg your pardon, sir. Young lady outside, sir, wishes to see you.тАЭ + 

тАЬOutside? Where?тАЭ + 

тАЬOutside this door, sir.тАЭ + 

Giving the waiter to the personage before mentioned, as a blockhead duly qualified for that consignment, Mr.┬аHarthouse hurried into the gallery. A young woman whom he had never seen stood there. Plainly dressed, very quiet, very pretty. As he conducted her into the room and placed a chair for her, he observed, by the light of the candles, that she was even prettier than he had at first believed. Her face was innocent and youthful, and its expression remarkably pleasant. She was not afraid of him, or in any way disconcerted; she seemed to have her mind entirely preoccupied with the occasion of her visit, and to have substituted that consideration for herself. + 

тАЬI speak to Mr.┬аHarthouse?тАЭ she said, when they were alone. + 

тАЬTo Mr.┬аHarthouse.тАЭ He added in his mind, тАЬAnd you speak to him with the most confiding eyes I ever saw, and the most earnest voice (though so quiet) I ever heard.тАЭ + 

тАЬIf I do not understandтБатАФand I do not, sirтАЭтБатАФsaid Sissy, тАЬwhat your honour as a gentleman binds you to, in other matters:тАЭ the blood really rose in his face as she began in these words: тАЬI am sure I may rely upon it to keep my visit secret, and to keep secret what I am going to say. I will rely upon it, if you will tell me I may so far trustтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬYou may, I assure you.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am young, as you see; I am alone, as you see. In coming to you, sir, I have no advice or encouragement beyond my own hope.тАЭ He thought, тАЬBut that is very strong,тАЭ as he followed the momentary upward glance of her eyes. He thought besides, тАЬThis is a very odd beginning. I donтАЩt see where we are going.тАЭ + 

тАЬI think,тАЭ said Sissy, тАЬyou have already guessed whom I left just now!тАЭ + 

тАЬI have been in the greatest concern and uneasiness during the last four-and-twenty hours (which have appeared as many years),тАЭ he returned, тАЬon a ladyтАЩs account. The hopes I have been encouraged to form that you come from that lady, do not deceive me, I trust.тАЭ + 

тАЬI left her within an hour.тАЭ + 

тАЬAtтБатАФ!тАЭ + 

тАЬAt her fatherтАЩs.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аHarthouseтАЩs face lengthened in spite of his coolness, and his perplexity increased. тАЬThen I certainly,тАЭ he thought, тАЬdo not see where we are going.тАЭ + 

тАЬShe hurried there last night. She arrived there in great agitation, and was insensible all through the night. I live at her fatherтАЩs, and was with her. You may be sure, sir, you will never see her again as long as you live.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аHarthouse drew a long breath; and, if ever man found himself in the position of not knowing what to say, made the discovery beyond all question that he was so circumstanced. The childlike ingenuousness with which his visitor spoke, her modest fearlessness, her truthfulness which put all artifice aside, her entire forgetfulness of herself in her earnest quiet holding to the object with which she had come; all this, together with her reliance on his easily given promiseтБатАФwhich in itself shamed himтБатАФpresented something in which he was so inexperienced, and against which he knew any of his usual weapons would fall so powerless; that not a word could he rally to his relief. + 

At last he said: + 

тАЬSo startling an announcement, so confidently made, and by such lips, is really disconcerting in the last degree. May I be permitted to inquire, if you are charged to convey that information to me in those hopeless words, by the lady of whom we speak?тАЭ + 

тАЬI have no charge from her.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe drowning man catches at the straw. With no disrespect for your judgment, and with no doubt of your sincerity, excuse my saying that I cling to the belief that there is yet hope that I am not condemned to perpetual exile from that ladyтАЩs presence.тАЭ + 

тАЬThere is not the least hope. The first object of my coming here, sir, is to assure you that you must believe that there is no more hope of your ever speaking with her again, than there would be if she had died when she came home last night.тАЭ + 

тАЬMust believe? But if I canтАЩtтБатАФor if I should, by infirmity of nature, be obstinateтБатАФand wonтАЩtтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬIt is still true. There is no hope.тАЭ + 

James Harthouse looked at her with an incredulous smile upon his lips; but her mind looked over and beyond him, and the smile was quite thrown away. + 

He bit his lip, and took a little time for consideration. + 

тАЬWell! If it should unhappily appear,тАЭ he said, тАЬafter due pains and duty on my part, that I am brought to a position so desolate as this banishment, I shall not become the ladyтАЩs persecutor. But you said you had no commission from her?тАЭ + 

тАЬI have only the commission of my love for her, and her love for me. I have no other trust, than that I have been with her since she came home, and that she has given me her confidence. I have no further trust, than that I know something of her character and her marriage. O Mr.┬аHarthouse, I think you had that trust too!тАЭ + 

He was touched in the cavity where his heart should have beenтБатАФin that nest of addled eggs, where the birds of heaven would have lived if they had not been whistled awayтБатАФby the fervour of this reproach. + 

тАЬI am not a moral sort of fellow,тАЭ he said, тАЬand I never make any pretensions to the character of a moral sort of fellow. I am as immoral as need be. At the same time, in bringing any distress upon the lady who is the subject of the present conversation, or in unfortunately compromising her in any way, or in committing myself by any expression of sentiments towards her, not perfectly reconcilable withтБатАФin fact withтБатАФthe domestic hearth; or in taking any advantage of her fatherтАЩs being a machine, or of her brotherтАЩs being a whelp, or of her husbandтАЩs being a bear; I beg to be allowed to assure you that I have had no particularly evil intentions, but have glided on from one step to another with a smoothness so perfectly diabolical, that I had not the slightest idea the catalogue was half so long until I began to turn it over. Whereas I find,тАЭ said Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, in conclusion, тАЬthat it is really in several volumes.тАЭ + 

Though he said all this in his frivolous way, the way seemed, for that once, a conscious polishing of but an ugly surface. He was silent for a moment; and then proceeded with a more self-possessed air, though with traces of vexation and disappointment that would not be polished out. + 

тАЬAfter what has been just now represented to me, in a manner I find it impossible to doubtтБатАФI know of hardly any other source from which I could have accepted it so readilyтБатАФI feel bound to say to you, in whom the confidence you have mentioned has been reposed, that I cannot refuse to contemplate the possibility (however unexpected) of my seeing the lady no more. I am solely to blame for the thing having come to thisтБатАФandтБатАФand, I cannot say,тАЭ he added, rather hard up for a general peroration, тАЬthat I have any sanguine expectation of ever becoming a moral sort of fellow, or that I have any belief in any moral sort of fellow whatever.тАЭ + 

SissyтАЩs face sufficiently showed that her appeal to him was not finished. + 

тАЬYou spoke,тАЭ he resumed, as she raised her eyes to him again, тАЬof your first object. I may assume that there is a second to be mentioned?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes.тАЭ + 

тАЬWill you oblige me by confiding it?тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ returned Sissy, with a blending of gentleness and steadiness that quite defeated him, and with a simple confidence in his being bound to do what she required, that held him at a singular disadvantage, тАЬthe only reparation that remains with you, is to leave here immediately and finally. I am quite sure that you can mitigate in no other way the wrong and harm you have done. I am quite sure that it is the only compensation you have left it in your power to make. I do not say that it is much, or that it is enough; but it is something, and it is necessary. Therefore, though without any other authority than I have given you, and even without the knowledge of any other person than yourself and myself, I ask you to depart from this place tonight, under an obligation never to return to it.тАЭ + 

If she had asserted any influence over him beyond her plain faith in the truth and right of what she said; if she had concealed the least doubt or irresolution, or had harboured for the best purpose any reserve or pretence; if she had shown, or felt, the lightest trace of any sensitiveness to his ridicule or his astonishment, or any remonstrance he might offer; he would have carried it against her at this point. But he could as easily have changed a clear sky by looking at it in surprise, as affect her. + 

тАЬBut do you know,тАЭ he asked, quite at a loss, тАЬthe extent of what you ask? You probably are not aware that I am here on a public kind of business, preposterous enough in itself, but which I have gone in for, and sworn by, and am supposed to be devoted to in quite a desperate manner? You probably are not aware of that, but I assure you itтАЩs the fact.тАЭ + 

It had no effect on Sissy, fact or no fact. + 

тАЬBesides which,тАЭ said Mr.┬аHarthouse, taking a turn or two across the room, dubiously, тАЬitтАЩs so alarmingly absurd. It would make a man so ridiculous, after going in for these fellows, to back out in such an incomprehensible way.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am quite sure,тАЭ repeated Sissy, тАЬthat it is the only reparation in your power, sir. I am quite sure, or I would not have come here.тАЭ + 

He glanced at her face, and walked about again. тАЬUpon my soul, I donтАЩt know what to say. So immensely absurd!тАЭ + 

It fell to his lot, now, to stipulate for secrecy. + 

тАЬIf I were to do such a very ridiculous thing,тАЭ he said, stopping again presently, and leaning against the chimneypiece, тАЬit could only be in the most inviolable confidence.тАЭ + 

тАЬI will trust to you, sir,тАЭ returned Sissy, тАЬand you will trust to me.тАЭ + 

His leaning against the chimneypiece reminded him of the night with the whelp. It was the selfsame chimneypiece, and somehow he felt as if he were the whelp tonight. He could make no way at all. + 

тАЬI suppose a man never was placed in a more ridiculous position,тАЭ he said, after looking down, and looking up, and laughing, and frowning, and walking off, and walking back again. тАЬBut I see no way out of it. What will be, will be. This will be, I suppose. I must take off myself, I imagineтБатАФin short, I engage to do it.тАЭ + 

Sissy rose. She was not surprised by the result, but she was happy in it, and her face beamed brightly. + 

тАЬYou will permit me to say,тАЭ continued Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, тАЬthat I doubt if any other ambassador, or ambassadress, could have addressed me with the same success. I must not only regard myself as being in a very ridiculous position, but as being vanquished at all points. Will you allow me the privilege of remembering my enemyтАЩs name?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy name?тАЭ said the ambassadress. + 

тАЬThe only name I could possibly care to know, tonight.тАЭ + 

тАЬSissy Jupe.тАЭ + 

тАЬPardon my curiosity at parting. Related to the family?тАЭ + 

тАЬI am only a poor girl,тАЭ returned Sissy. тАЬI was separated from my fatherтБатАФhe was only a strollerтБатАФand taken pity on by Mr.┬аGradgrind. I have lived in the house ever since.тАЭ + 

She was gone. + 

тАЬIt wanted this to complete the defeat,тАЭ said Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, sinking, with a resigned air, on the sofa, after standing transfixed a little while. тАЬThe defeat may now be considered perfectly accomplished. Only a poor girlтБатАФonly a strollerтБатАФonly James Harthouse made nothing ofтБатАФonly James Harthouse a Great Pyramid of failure.тАЭ + 

The Great Pyramid put it into his head to go up the Nile. He took a pen upon the instant, and wrote the following note (in appropriate hieroglyphics) to his brother: + 

Dear JackтБатАФAll up at Coketown. Bored out of the place, and going in for camels. + 

He rang the bell. + 

тАЬSend my fellow here.тАЭ + 

тАЬGone to bed, sir.тАЭ + 

тАЬTell him to get up, and pack up.тАЭ + 

He wrote two more notes. One, to Mr.┬аBounderby, announcing his retirement from that part of the country, and showing where he would be found for the next fortnight. The other, similar in effect, to Mr.┬аGradgrind. Almost as soon as the ink was dry upon their superscriptions, he had left the tall chimneys of Coketown behind, and was in a railway carriage, tearing and glaring over the dark landscape. + 

The moral sort of fellows might suppose that Mr.┬аJames Harthouse derived some comfortable reflections afterwards, from this prompt retreat, as one of his few actions that made any amends for anything, and as a token to himself that he had escaped the climax of a very bad business. But it was not so, at all. A secret sense of having failed and been ridiculousтБатАФa dread of what other fellows who went in for similar sorts of things, would say at his expense if they knew itтБатАФso oppressed him, that what was about the very best passage in his life was the one of all others he would not have owned to on any account, and the only one that made him ashamed of himself. + 

III + 

Very Decided + 

The indefatigable Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a violent cold upon her, her voice reduced to a whisper, and her stately frame so racked by continual sneezes that it seemed in danger of dismemberment, gave chase to her patron until she found him in the metropolis; and there, majestically sweeping in upon him at his hotel in St.┬аJamesтАЩs Street, exploded the combustibles with which she was charged, and blew up. Having executed her mission with infinite relish, this high-minded woman then fainted away on Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs coat-collar. + 

Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs first procedure was to shake Mrs.┬аSparsit off, and leave her to progress as she might through various stages of suffering on the floor. He next had recourse to the administration of potent restoratives, such as screwing the patientтАЩs thumbs, smiting her hands, abundantly watering her face, and inserting salt in her mouth. When these attentions had recovered her (which they speedily did), he hustled her into a fast train without offering any other refreshment, and carried her back to Coketown more dead than alive. + 

Regarded as a classical ruin, Mrs.┬аSparsit was an interesting spectacle on her arrival at her journeyтАЩs end; but considered in any other light, the amount of damage she had by that time sustained was excessive, and impaired her claims to admiration. Utterly heedless of the wear and tear of her clothes and constitution, and adamant to her pathetic sneezes, Mr.┬аBounderby immediately crammed her into a coach, and bore her off to Stone Lodge. + 

тАЬNow, Tom Gradgrind,тАЭ said Bounderby, bursting into his father-in-lawтАЩs room late at night; тАЬhereтАЩs a lady hereтБатАФMrs.┬аSparsitтБатАФyou know Mrs.┬аSparsitтБатАФwho has something to say to you that will strike you dumb.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou have missed my letter!тАЭ exclaimed Mr.┬аGradgrind, surprised by the apparition. + 

тАЬMissed your letter, sir!тАЭ bawled Bounderby. тАЬThe present time is no time for letters. No man shall talk to Josiah Bounderby of Coketown about letters, with his mind in the state itтАЩs in now.тАЭ + 

тАЬBounderby,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, in a tone of temperate remonstrance, тАЬI speak of a very special letter I have written to you, in reference to Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬTom Gradgrind,тАЭ replied Bounderby, knocking the flat of his hand several times with great vehemence on the table, тАЬI speak of a very special messenger that has come to me, in reference to Louisa. Mrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam, stand forward!тАЭ + 

That unfortunate lady hereupon essaying to offer testimony, without any voice and with painful gestures expressive of an inflamed throat, became so aggravating and underwent so many facial contortions, that Mr.┬аBounderby, unable to bear it, seized her by the arm and shook her. + 

тАЬIf you canтАЩt get it out, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬleave me to get it out. This is not a time for a lady, however highly connected, to be totally inaudible, and seemingly swallowing marbles. Tom Gradgrind, Mrs.┬аSparsit latterly found herself, by accident, in a situation to overhear a conversation out of doors between your daughter and your precious gentleman-friend, Mr.┬аJames Harthouse.тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed!тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬAh! Indeed!тАЭ cried Bounderby. тАЬAnd in that conversationтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬIt is not necessary to repeat its tenor, Bounderby. I know what passed.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou do? Perhaps,тАЭ said Bounderby, staring with all his might at his so quiet and assuasive father-in-law, тАЬyou know where your daughter is at the present time!тАЭ + 

тАЬUndoubtedly. She is here.тАЭ + 

тАЬHere?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear Bounderby, let me beg you to restrain these loud outbreaks, on all accounts. Louisa is here. The moment she could detach herself from that interview with the person of whom you speak, and whom I deeply regret to have been the means of introducing to you, Louisa hurried here, for protection. I myself had not been at home many hours, when I received herтБатАФhere, in this room. She hurried by the train to town, she ran from town to this house, through a raging storm, and presented herself before me in a state of distraction. Of course, she has remained here ever since. Let me entreat you, for your own sake and for hers, to be more quiet.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby silently gazed about him for some moments, in every direction except Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs direction; and then, abruptly turning upon the niece of Lady Scadgers, said to that wretched woman: + 

тАЬNow, maтАЩam! We shall be happy to hear any little apology you may think proper to offer, for going about the country at express pace, with no other luggage than a Cock-and-a-Bull, maтАЩam!тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ whispered Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬmy nerves are at present too much shaken, and my health is at present too much impaired, in your service, to admit of my doing more than taking refuge in tears.тАЭ (Which she did.) + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬwithout making any observation to you that may not be made with propriety to a woman of good family, what I have got to add to that, is that there is something else in which it appears to me you may take refuge, namely, a coach. And the coach in which we came here being at the door, youтАЩll allow me to hand you down to it, and pack you home to the Bank: where the best course for you to pursue, will be to put your feet into the hottest water you can bear, and take a glass of scalding rum and butter after you get into bed.тАЭ With these words, Mr.┬аBounderby extended his right hand to the weeping lady, and escorted her to the conveyance in question, shedding many plaintive sneezes by the way. He soon returned alone. + 

тАЬNow, as you showed me in your face, Tom Gradgrind, that you wanted to speak to me,тАЭ he resumed, тАЬhere I am. But, I am not in a very agreeable state, I tell you plainly: not relishing this business, even as it is, and not considering that I am at any time as dutifully and submissively treated by your daughter, as Josiah Bounderby of Coketown ought to be treated by his wife. You have your opinion, I dare say; and I have mine, I know. If you mean to say anything to me tonight, that goes against this candid remark, you had better let it alone.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind, it will be observed, being much softened, Mr.┬аBounderby took particular pains to harden himself at all points. It was his amiable nature. + 

тАЬMy dear Bounderby,тАЭ Mr.┬аGradgrind began in reply. + 

тАЬNow, youтАЩll excuse me,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬbut I donтАЩt want to be too dear. That, to start with. When I begin to be dear to a man, I generally find that his intention is to come over me. I am not speaking to you politely; but, as you are aware, I am not polite. If you like politeness, you know where to get it. You have your gentleman-friends, you know, and theyтАЩll serve you with as much of the article as you want. I donтАЩt keep it myself.тАЭ + 

тАЬBounderby,тАЭ urged Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬwe are all liable to mistakesтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬI thought you couldnтАЩt make тАЩem,тАЭ interrupted Bounderby. + 

тАЬPerhaps I thought so. But, I say we are all liable to mistakes and I should feel sensible of your delicacy, and grateful for it, if you would spare me these references to Harthouse. I shall not associate him in our conversation with your intimacy and encouragement; pray do not persist in connecting him with mine.тАЭ + 

тАЬI never mentioned his name!тАЭ said Bounderby. + 

тАЬWell, well!тАЭ returned Mr.┬аGradgrind, with a patient, even a submissive, air. And he sat for a little while pondering. тАЬBounderby, I see reason to doubt whether we have ever quite understood Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬWho do you mean by we?тАЭ + 

тАЬLet me say I, then,тАЭ he returned, in answer to the coarsely blurted question; тАЬI doubt whether I have understood Louisa. I doubt whether I have been quite right in the manner of her education.тАЭ + 

тАЬThere you hit it,тАЭ returned Bounderby. тАЬThere I agree with you. You have found it out at last, have you? Education! IтАЩll tell you what education isтБатАФTo be tumbled out of doors, neck and crop, and put upon the shortest allowance of everything except blows. ThatтАЩs what I call education.тАЭ + 

тАЬI think your good sense will perceive,тАЭ Mr.┬аGradgrind remonstrated in all humility, тАЬthat whatever the merits of such a system may be, it would be difficult of general application to girls.тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt see it at all, sir,тАЭ returned the obstinate Bounderby. + 

тАЬWell,тАЭ sighed Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬwe will not enter into the question. I assure you I have no desire to be controversial. I seek to repair what is amiss, if I possibly can; and I hope you will assist me in a good spirit, Bounderby, for I have been very much distressed.тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt understand you, yet,тАЭ said Bounderby, with determined obstinacy, тАЬand therefore I wonтАЩt make any promises.тАЭ + 

тАЬIn the course of a few hours, my dear Bounderby,тАЭ Mr.┬аGradgrind proceeded, in the same depressed and propitiatory manner, тАЬI appear to myself to have become better informed as to LouisaтАЩs character, than in previous years. The enlightenment has been painfully forced upon me, and the discovery is not mine. I think there areтБатАФBounderby, you will be surprised to hear me say thisтБатАФI think there are qualities in Louisa, whichтБатАФwhich have been harshly neglected, andтБатАФand a little perverted. AndтБатАФand I would suggest to you, thatтБатАФthat if you would kindly meet me in a timely endeavour to leave her to her better nature for a whileтБатАФand to encourage it to develop itself by tenderness and considerationтБатАФitтБатАФit would be the better for the happiness of all of us. Louisa,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, shading his face with his hand, тАЬhas always been my favourite child.тАЭ + 

The blustrous Bounderby crimsoned and swelled to such an extent on hearing these words, that he seemed to be, and probably was, on the brink of a fit. With his very ears a bright purple shot with crimson, he pent up his indignation, however, and said: + 

тАЬYouтАЩd like to keep her here for a time?тАЭ + 

тАЬIтБатАФI had intended to recommend, my dear Bounderby, that you should allow Louisa to remain here on a visit, and be attended by Sissy (I mean of course Cecilia Jupe), who understands her, and in whom she trusts.тАЭ + 

тАЬI gather from all this, Tom Gradgrind,тАЭ said Bounderby, standing up with his hands in his pockets, тАЬthat you are of opinion that thereтАЩs what people call some incompatibility between Loo Bounderby and myself.тАЭ + 

тАЬI fear there is at present a general incompatibility between Louisa, andтБатАФandтБатАФand almost all the relations in which I have placed her,тАЭ was her fatherтАЩs sorrowful reply. + 

тАЬNow, look you here, Tom Gradgrind,тАЭ said Bounderby the flushed, confronting him with his legs wide apart, his hands deeper in his pockets, and his hair like a hayfield wherein his windy anger was boisterous. тАЬYou have said your say; I am going to say mine. I am a Coketown man. I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. I know the bricks of this town, and I know the works of this town, and I know the chimneys of this town, and I know the smoke of this town, and I know the hands of this town. I know тАЩem all pretty well. TheyтАЩre real. When a man tells me anything about imaginative qualities, I always tell that man, whoever he is, that I know what he means. He means turtle soup and venison, with a gold spoon, and that he wants to be set up with a coach and six. ThatтАЩs what your daughter wants. Since you are of opinion that she ought to have what she wants, I recommend you to provide it for her. Because, Tom Gradgrind, she will never have it from me.тАЭ + 

тАЬBounderby,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬI hoped, after my entreaty, you would have taken a different tone.тАЭ + 

тАЬJust wait a bit,тАЭ retorted Bounderby; тАЬyou have said your say, I believe. I heard you out; hear me out, if you please. DonтАЩt make yourself a spectacle of unfairness as well as inconsistency, because, although I am sorry to see Tom Gradgrind reduced to his present position, I should be doubly sorry to see him brought so low as that. Now, thereтАЩs an incompatibility of some sort or another, I am given to understand by you, between your daughter and me. IтАЩll give you to understand, in reply to that, that there unquestionably is an incompatibility of the first magnitudeтБатАФto be summed up in thisтБатАФthat your daughter donтАЩt properly know her husbandтАЩs merits, and is not impressed with such a sense as would become her, by George! of the honour of his alliance. ThatтАЩs plain speaking, I hope.тАЭ + 

тАЬBounderby,тАЭ urged Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬthis is unreasonable.тАЭ + 

тАЬIs it?тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬI am glad to hear you say so. Because when Tom Gradgrind, with his new lights, tells me that what I say is unreasonable, I am convinced at once it must be devilish sensible. With your permission I am going on. You know my origin; and you know that for a good many years of my life I didnтАЩt want a shoeing-horn, in consequence of not having a shoe. Yet you may believe or not, as you think proper, that there are ladiesтБатАФborn ladiesтБатАФbelonging to familiesтБатАФfamilies!тБатАФwho next to worship the ground I walk on.тАЭ + 

He discharged this like a rocket, at his father-in-lawтАЩs head. + 

тАЬWhereas your daughter,тАЭ proceeded Bounderby, тАЬis far from being a born lady. That you know, yourself. Not that I care a pinch of candle-snuff about such things, for you are very well aware I donтАЩt; but that such is the fact, and you, Tom Gradgrind, canтАЩt change it. Why do I say this?тАЭ + 

тАЬNot, I fear,тАЭ observed Mr.┬аGradgrind, in a low voice, тАЬto spare me.тАЭ + 

тАЬHear me out,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬand refrain from cutting in till your turn comes round. I say this, because highly connected females have been astonished to see the way in which your daughter has conducted herself, and to witness her insensibility. They have wondered how I have suffered it. And I wonder myself now, and I wonтАЩt suffer it.тАЭ + 

тАЬBounderby,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аGradgrind, rising, тАЬthe less we say tonight the better, I think.тАЭ + 

тАЬOn the contrary, Tom Gradgrind, the more we say tonight, the better, I think. That is,тАЭ the consideration checked him, тАЬtill I have said all I mean to say, and then I donтАЩt care how soon we stop. I come to a question that may shorten the business. What do you mean by the proposal you made just now?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat do I mean, Bounderby?тАЭ + 

тАЬBy your visiting proposition,тАЭ said Bounderby, with an inflexible jerk of the hayfield. + 

тАЬI mean that I hope you may be induced to arrange in a friendly manner, for allowing Louisa a period of repose and reflection here, which may tend to a gradual alteration for the better in many respects.тАЭ + 

тАЬTo a softening down of your ideas of the incompatibility?тАЭ said Bounderby. + 

тАЬIf you put it in those terms.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat made you think of this?тАЭ said Bounderby. + 

тАЬI have already said, I fear Louisa has not been understood. Is it asking too much, Bounderby, that you, so far her elder, should aid in trying to set her right? You have accepted a great charge of her; for better for worse, forтБатАФтАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby may have been annoyed by the repetition of his own words to Stephen Blackpool, but he cut the quotation short with an angry start. + 

тАЬCome!тАЭ said he, тАЬI donтАЩt want to be told about that. I know what I took her for, as well as you do. Never you mind what I took her for; thatтАЩs my look out.тАЭ + 

тАЬI was merely going on to remark, Bounderby, that we may all be more or less in the wrong, not even excepting you; and that some yielding on your part, remembering the trust you have accepted, may not only be an act of true kindness, but perhaps a debt incurred towards Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬI think differently,тАЭ blustered Bounderby. тАЬI am going to finish this business according to my own opinions. Now, I donтАЩt want to make a quarrel of it with you, Tom Gradgrind. To tell you the truth, I donтАЩt think it would be worthy of my reputation to quarrel on such a subject. As to your gentleman-friend, he may take himself off, wherever he likes best. If he falls in my way, I shall tell him my mind; if he donтАЩt fall in my way, I shanтАЩt, for it wonтАЩt be worth my while to do it. As to your daughter, whom I made Loo Bounderby, and might have done better by leaving Loo Gradgrind, if she donтАЩt come home tomorrow, by twelve oтАЩclock at noon, I shall understand that she prefers to stay away, and I shall send her wearing apparel and so forth over here, and youтАЩll take charge of her for the future. What I shall say to people in general, of the incompatibility that led to my so laying down the law, will be this. I am Josiah Bounderby, and I had my bringing-up; sheтАЩs the daughter of Tom Gradgrind, and she had her bringing-up; and the two horses wouldnтАЩt pull together. I am pretty well known to be rather an uncommon man, I believe; and most people will understand fast enough that it must be a woman rather out of the common, also, who, in the long run, would come up to my mark.тАЭ + 

тАЬLet me seriously entreat you to reconsider this, Bounderby,тАЭ urged Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬbefore you commit yourself to such a decision.тАЭ + 

тАЬI always come to a decision,тАЭ said Bounderby, tossing his hat on: тАЬand whatever I do, I do at once. I should be surprised at Tom GradgrindтАЩs addressing such a remark to Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, knowing what he knows of him, if I could be surprised by anything Tom Gradgrind did, after his making himself a party to sentimental humbug. I have given you my decision, and I have got no more to say. Good night!тАЭ + 

So Mr.┬аBounderby went home to his town house to bed. At five minutes past twelve oтАЩclock next day, he directed Mrs.┬аBounderbyтАЩs property to be carefully packed up and sent to Tom GradgrindтАЩs; advertised his country retreat for sale by private contract; and resumed a bachelor life. + 

IV + 

Lost + 

The robbery at the Bank had not languished before, and did not cease to occupy a front place in the attention of the principal of that establishment now. In boastful proof of his promptitude and activity, as a remarkable man, and a self-made man, and a commercial wonder more admirable than Venus, who had risen out of the mud instead of the sea, he liked to show how little his domestic affairs abated his business ardour. Consequently, in the first few weeks of his resumed bachelorhood, he even advanced upon his usual display of bustle, and every day made such a rout in renewing his investigations into the robbery, that the officers who had it in hand almost wished it had never been committed. + 

They were at fault too, and off the scent. Although they had been so quiet since the first outbreak of the matter, that most people really did suppose it to have been abandoned as hopeless, nothing new occurred. No implicated man or woman took untimely courage, or made a self-betraying step. More remarkable yet, Stephen Blackpool could not be heard of, and the mysterious old woman remained a mystery. + 

Things having come to this pass, and showing no latent signs of stirring beyond it, the upshot of Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs investigations was, that he resolved to hazard a bold burst. He drew up a placard, offering twenty pounds reward for the apprehension of Stephen Blackpool, suspected of complicity in the robbery of Coketown Bank on such a night; he described the said Stephen Blackpool by dress, complexion, estimated height, and manner, as minutely as he could; he recited how he had left the town, and in what direction he had been last seen going; he had the whole printed in great black letters on a staring broadsheet; and he caused the walls to be posted with it in the dead of night, so that it should strike upon the sight of the whole population at one blow. + 

The factory-bells had need to ring their loudest that morning to disperse the groups of workers who stood in the tardy daybreak, collected round the placards, devouring them with eager eyes. Not the least eager of the eyes assembled, were the eyes of those who could not read. These people, as they listened to the friendly voice that read aloudтБатАФthere was always some such ready to help themтБатАФstared at the characters which meant so much with a vague awe and respect that would have been half ludicrous, if any aspect of public ignorance could ever be otherwise than threatening and full of evil. Many ears and eyes were busy with a vision of the matter of these placards, among turning spindles, rattling looms, and whirling wheels, for hours afterwards; and when the hands cleared out again into the streets, there were still as many readers as before. + 

Slackbridge, the delegate, had to address his audience too that night; and Slackbridge had obtained a clean bill from the printer, and had brought it in his pocket. Oh, my friends and fellow-countrymen, the downtrodden operatives of Coketown, oh, my fellow-brothers and fellow-workmen and fellow-citizens and fellow-men, what a to-do was there, when Slackbridge unfolded what he called тАЬthat damning document,тАЭ and held it up to the gaze, and for the execration of the workingman community! тАЬOh, my fellow-men, behold of what a traitor in the camp of those great spirits who are enrolled upon the holy scroll of Justice and of Union, is appropriately capable! Oh, my prostrate friends, with the galling yoke of tyrants on your necks and the iron foot of despotism treading down your fallen forms into the dust of the earth, upon which right glad would your oppressors be to see you creeping on your bellies all the days of your lives, like the serpent in the gardenтБатАФoh, my brothers, and shall I as a man not add, my sisters too, what do you say, now, of Stephen Blackpool, with a slight stoop in his shoulders and about five foot seven in height, as set forth in this degrading and disgusting document, this blighting bill, this pernicious placard, this abominable advertisement; and with what majesty of denouncement will you crush the viper, who would bring this stain and shame upon the Godlike race that happily has cast him out forever! Yes, my compatriots, happily cast him out and sent him forth! For you remember how he stood here before you on this platform; you remember how, face to face and foot to foot, I pursued him through all his intricate windings; you remember how he sneaked and slunk, and sidled, and splitted of straws, until, with not an inch of ground to which to cling, I hurled him out from amongst us: an object for the undying finger of scorn to point at, and for the avenging fire of every free and thinking mind to scorch and scar! And now, my friendsтБатАФmy labouring friends, for I rejoice and triumph in that stigmaтБатАФmy friends whose hard but honest beds are made in toil, and whose scanty but independent pots are boiled in hardship; and now, I say, my friends, what appellation has that dastard craven taken to himself, when, with the mask torn from his features, he stands before us in all his native deformity, a What? A thief! A plunderer! A proscribed fugitive, with a price upon his head; a fester and a wound upon the noble character of the Coketown operative! Therefore, my band of brothers in a sacred bond, to which your children and your childrenтАЩs children yet unborn have set their infant hands and seals, I propose to you on the part of the United Aggregate Tribunal, ever watchful for your welfare, ever zealous for your benefit, that this meeting does Resolve: That Stephen Blackpool, weaver, referred to in this placard, having been already solemnly disowned by the community of Coketown hands, the same are free from the shame of his misdeeds, and cannot as a class be reproached with his dishonest actions!тАЭ + 

Thus Slackbridge; gnashing and perspiring after a prodigious sort. A few stern voices called out тАЬNo!тАЭ and a score or two hailed, with assenting cries of тАЬHear, hear!тАЭ the caution from one man, тАЬSlackbridge, yтАЩor over hetter inтАЩt; yтАЩor a goen too fast!тАЭ But these were pygmies against an army; the general assemblage subscribed to the gospel according to Slackbridge, and gave three cheers for him, as he sat demonstratively panting at them. + 

These men and women were yet in the streets, passing quietly to their homes, when Sissy, who had been called away from Louisa some minutes before, returned. + 

тАЬWho is it?тАЭ asked Louisa. + 

тАЬIt is Mr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said Sissy, timid of the name, тАЬand your brother Mr.┬аTom, and a young woman who says her name is Rachael, and that you know her.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat do they want, Sissy dear?тАЭ + 

тАЬThey want to see you. Rachael has been crying, and seems angry.тАЭ + 

тАЬFather,тАЭ said Louisa, for he was present, тАЬI cannot refuse to see them, for a reason that will explain itself. Shall they come in here?тАЭ + 

As he answered in the affirmative, Sissy went away to bring them. She reappeared with them directly. Tom was last; and remained standing in the obscurest part of the room, near the door. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said her husband, entering with a cool nod, тАЬI donтАЩt disturb you, I hope. This is an unseasonable hour, but here is a young woman who has been making statements which render my visit necessary. Tom Gradgrind, as your son, young Tom, refuses for some obstinate reason or other to say anything at all about those statements, good or bad, I am obliged to confront her with your daughter.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou have seen me once before, young lady,тАЭ said Rachael, standing in front of Louisa. + 

Tom coughed. + 

тАЬYou have seen me, young lady,тАЭ repeated Rachael, as she did not answer, тАЬonce before.тАЭ + 

Tom coughed again. + 

тАЬI have.тАЭ + 

Rachael cast her eyes proudly towards Mr.┬аBounderby, and said, тАЬWill you make it known, young lady, where, and who was there?тАЭ + 

тАЬI went to the house where Stephen Blackpool lodged, on the night of his discharge from his work, and I saw you there. He was there too; and an old woman who did not speak, and whom I could scarcely see, stood in a dark corner. My brother was with me.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy couldnтАЩt you say so, young Tom?тАЭ demanded Bounderby. + 

тАЬI promised my sister I wouldnтАЩt.тАЭ Which Louisa hastily confirmed. тАЬAnd besides,тАЭ said the whelp bitterly, тАЬshe tells her own story so precious wellтБатАФand so fullтБатАФthat what business had I to take it out of her mouth!тАЭ + 

тАЬSay, young lady, if you please,тАЭ pursued Rachael, тАЬwhy, in an evil hour, you ever came to StephenтАЩs that night.тАЭ + 

тАЬI felt compassion for him,тАЭ said Louisa, her colour deepening, тАЬand I wished to know what he was going to do, and wished to offer him assistance.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬMuch flattered and obliged.тАЭ + 

тАЬDid you offer him,тАЭ asked Rachael, тАЬa banknote?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes; but he refused it, and would only take two pounds in gold.тАЭ + 

Rachael cast her eyes towards Mr.┬аBounderby again. + 

тАЬOh, certainly!тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬIf you put the question whether your ridiculous and improbable account was true or not, I am bound to say itтАЩs confirmed.тАЭ + 

тАЬYoung lady,тАЭ said Rachael, тАЬStephen Blackpool is now named as a thief in public print all over this town, and where else! There have been a meeting tonight where he have been spoken of in the same shameful way. Stephen! The honestest lad, the truest lad, the best!тАЭ Her indignation failed her, and she broke off sobbing. + 

тАЬI am very, very sorry,тАЭ said Louisa. + 

тАЬOh, young lady, young lady,тАЭ returned Rachael, тАЬI hope you may be, but I donтАЩt know! I canтАЩt say what you may haтАЩ done! The like of you donтАЩt know us, donтАЩt care for us, donтАЩt belong to us. I am not sure why you may haтАЩ come that night. I canтАЩt tell but what you may haтАЩ come wiтАЩ some aim of your own, not mindin to what trouble you brought such as the poor lad. I said then, bless you for coming; and I said it of my heart, you seemed to take so pitifully to him; but I donтАЩt know now, I donтАЩt know!тАЭ + 

Louisa could not reproach her for her unjust suspicions; she was so faithful to her idea of the man, and so afflicted. + 

тАЬAnd when I think,тАЭ said Rachael through her sobs, тАЬthat the poor lad was so grateful, thinkin you so good to himтБатАФwhen I mind that he put his hand over his hard-worken face to hide the tears that you brought up thereтБатАФOh, I hope you may be sorry, and haтАЩ no bad cause to be it; but I donтАЩt know, I donтАЩt know!тАЭ + 

тАЬYouтАЩre a pretty article,тАЭ growled the whelp, moving uneasily in his dark corner, тАЬto come here with these precious imputations! You ought to be bundled out for not knowing how to behave yourself, and you would be by rights.тАЭ + 

She said nothing in reply; and her low weeping was the only sound that was heard, until Mr.┬аBounderby spoke. + 

тАЬCome!тАЭ said he, тАЬyou know what you have engaged to do. You had better give your mind to that; not this.тАЭ + 

тАЬтАКтАЩDeed, I am loath,тАЭ returned Rachael, drying her eyes, тАЬthat any here should see me like this; but I wonтАЩt be seen so again. Young lady, when I had read whatтАЩs put in print of StephenтБатАФand what has just as much truth in it as if it had been put in print of youтБатАФI went straight to the Bank to say I knew where Stephen was, and to give a sure and certain promise that he should be here in two days. I couldnтАЩt meet wiтАЩ Mr.┬аBounderby then, and your brother sent me away, and I tried to find you, but you was not to be found, and I went back to work. Soon as I come out of the mill tonight, I hastened to hear what was said of StephenтБатАФfor I know wiтАЩ pride he will come back to shame it!тБатАФand then I went again to seek Mr.┬аBounderby, and I found him, and I told him every word I knew; and he believed no word I said, and brought me here.тАЭ + 

тАЬSo far, thatтАЩs true enough,тАЭ assented Mr.┬аBounderby, with his hands in his pockets and his hat on. тАЬBut I have known you people before today, youтАЩll observe, and I know you never die for want of talking. Now, I recommend you not so much to mind talking just now, as doing. You have undertaken to do something; all I remark upon that at present is, do it!тАЭ + 

тАЬI have written to Stephen by the post that went out this afternoon, as I have written to him once before sinтАЩ he went away,тАЭ said Rachael; тАЬand he will be here, at furthest, in two days.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen, IтАЩll tell you something. You are not aware perhaps,тАЭ retorted Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬthat you yourself have been looked after now and then, not being considered quite free from suspicion in this business, on account of most people being judged according to the company they keep. The post-office hasnтАЩt been forgotten either. What IтАЩll tell you is, that no letter to Stephen Blackpool has ever got into it. Therefore, what has become of yours, I leave you to guess. Perhaps youтАЩre mistaken, and never wrote any.тАЭ + 

тАЬHe hadnтАЩt been gone from here, young lady,тАЭ said Rachael, turning appealingly to Louisa, тАЬas much as a week, when he sent me the only letter I have had from him, saying that he was forced to seek work in another name.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh, by George!тАЭ cried Bounderby, shaking his head, with a whistle, тАЬhe changes his name, does he! ThatтАЩs rather unlucky, too, for such an immaculate chap. ItтАЩs considered a little suspicious in Courts of Justice, I believe, when an innocent happens to have many names.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat,тАЭ said Rachael, with the tears in her eyes again, тАЬwhat, young lady, in the name of Mercy, was left the poor lad to do! The masters against him on one hand, the men against him on the other, he only wantin to work hard in peace, and do what he felt right. Can a man have no soul of his own, no mind of his own? Must he go wrong all through wiтАЩ this side, or must he go wrong all through wiтАЩ that, or else be hunted like a hare?тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed, indeed, I pity him from my heart,тАЭ returned Louisa; тАЬand I hope that he will clear himself.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou need have no fear of that, young lady. He is sure!тАЭ + 

тАЬAll the surer, I suppose,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬfor your refusing to tell where he is? Eh?тАЭ + 

тАЬHe shall not, through any act of mine, come back wiтАЩ the unmerited reproach of being brought back. He shall come back of his own accord to clear himself, and put all those that have injured his good character, and he not here for its defence, to shame. I have told him what has been done against him,тАЭ said Rachael, throwing off all distrust as a rock throws off the sea, тАЬand he will be here, at furthest, in two days.тАЭ + 

тАЬNotwithstanding which,тАЭ added Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬif he can be laid hold of any sooner, he shall have an earlier opportunity of clearing himself. As to you, I have nothing against you; what you came and told me turns out to be true, and I have given you the means of proving it to be true, and thereтАЩs an end of it. I wish you good night all! I must be off to look a little further into this.тАЭ + 

Tom came out of his corner when Mr.┬аBounderby moved, moved with him, kept close to him, and went away with him. The only parting salutation of which he delivered himself was a sulky тАЬGood night, father!тАЭ With a brief speech, and a scowl at his sister, he left the house. + 

Since his sheet-anchor had come home, Mr.┬аGradgrind had been sparing of speech. He still sat silent, when Louisa mildly said: + 

тАЬRachael, you will not distrust me one day, when you know me better.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt goes against me,тАЭ Rachael answered, in a gentler manner, тАЬto mistrust anyone; but when I am so mistrustedтБатАФwhen we all areтБатАФI cannot keep such things quite out of my mind. I ask your pardon for having done you an injury. I donтАЩt think what I said now. Yet I might come to think it again, wiтАЩ the poor lad so wronged.тАЭ + 

тАЬDid you tell him in your letter,тАЭ inquired Sissy, тАЬthat suspicion seemed to have fallen upon him, because he had been seen about the Bank at night? He would then know what he would have to explain on coming back, and would be ready.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, dear,тАЭ she returned; тАЬbut I canтАЩt guess what can have ever taken him there. He never used to go there. It was never in his way. His way was the same as mine, and not near it.тАЭ + 

Sissy had already been at her side asking her where she lived, and whether she might come tomorrow night, to inquire if there were news of him. + 

тАЬI doubt,тАЭ said Rachael, тАЬif he can be here till next day.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen I will come next night too,тАЭ said Sissy. + 

When Rachael, assenting to this, was gone, Mr.┬аGradgrind lifted up his head, and said to his daughter: + 

тАЬLouisa, my dear, I have never, that I know of, seen this man. Do you believe him to be implicated?тАЭ + 

тАЬI think I have believed it, father, though with great difficulty. I do not believe it now.тАЭ + 

тАЬThat is to say, you once persuaded yourself to believe it, from knowing him to be suspected. His appearance and manner; are they so honest?тАЭ + 

тАЬVery honest.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd her confidence not to be shaken! I ask myself,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, musing, тАЬdoes the real culprit know of these accusations? Where is he? Who is he?тАЭ + 

His hair had latterly began to change its colour. As he leaned upon his hand again, looking gray and old, Louisa, with a face of fear and pity, hurriedly went over to him, and sat close at his side. Her eyes by accident met SissyтАЩs at the moment. Sissy flushed and started, and Louisa put her finger on her lip. + 

Next night, when Sissy returned home and told Louisa that Stephen was not come, she told it in a whisper. Next night again, when she came home with the same account, and added that he had not been heard of, she spoke in the same low frightened tone. From the moment of that interchange of looks, they never uttered his name, or any reference to him, aloud; nor ever pursued the subject of the robbery, when Mr.┬аGradgrind spoke of it. + 

The two appointed days ran out, three days and nights ran out, and Stephen Blackpool was not come, and remained unheard of. On the fourth day, Rachael, with unabated confidence, but considering her despatch to have miscarried, went up to the Bank, and showed her letter from him with his address, at a working colony, one of many, not upon the main road, sixty miles away. Messengers were sent to that place, and the whole town looked for Stephen to be brought in next day. + 

During this whole time the whelp moved about with Mr.┬аBounderby like his shadow, assisting in all the proceedings. He was greatly excited, horribly fevered, bit his nails down to the quick, spoke in a hard rattling voice, and with lips that were black and burnt up. At the hour when the suspected man was looked for, the whelp was at the station; offering to wager that he had made off before the arrival of those who were sent in quest of him, and that he would not appear. + 

The whelp was right. The messengers returned alone. RachaelтАЩs letter had gone, RachaelтАЩs letter had been delivered. Stephen Blackpool had decamped in that same hour; and no soul knew more of him. The only doubt in Coketown was, whether Rachael had written in good faith, believing that he really would come back, or warning him to fly. On this point opinion was divided. + 

Six days, seven days, far on into another week. The wretched whelp plucked up a ghastly courage, and began to grow defiant. тАЬWas the suspected fellow the thief? A pretty question! If not, where was the man, and why did he not come back?тАЭ + 

Where was the man, and why did he not come back? In the dead of night the echoes of his own words, which had rolled Heaven knows how far away in the daytime, came back instead, and abided by him until morning. + 

V + 

Found + 

Day and night again, day and night again. No Stephen Blackpool. Where was the man, and why did he not come back? + 

Every night, Sissy went to RachaelтАЩs lodging, and sat with her in her small neat room. All day, Rachael toiled as such people must toil, whatever their anxieties. The smoke-serpents were indifferent who was lost or found, who turned out bad or good; the melancholy mad elephants, like the Hard Fact men, abated nothing of their set routine, whatever happened. Day and night again, day and night again. The monotony was unbroken. Even Stephen BlackpoolтАЩs disappearance was falling into the general way, and becoming as monotonous a wonder as any piece of machinery in Coketown. + 

тАЬI misdoubt,тАЭ said Rachael, тАЬif there is as many as twenty left in all this place, who have any trust in the poor dear lad now.тАЭ + 

She said it to Sissy, as they sat in her lodging, lighted only by the lamp at the street corner. Sissy had come there when it was already dark, to await her return from work; and they had since sat at the window where Rachael had found her, wanting no brighter light to shine on their sorrowful talk. + 

тАЬIf it hadnтАЩt been mercifully brought about, that I was to have you to speak to,тАЭ pursued Rachael, тАЬtimes are, when I think my mind would not have kept right. But I get hope and strength through you; and you believe that though appearances may rise against him, he will be proved clear?тАЭ + 

тАЬI do believe so,тАЭ returned Sissy, тАЬwith my whole heart. I feel so certain, Rachael, that the confidence you hold in yours against all discouragement, is not like to be wrong, that I have no more doubt of him than if I had known him through as many years of trial as you have.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd I, my dear,тАЭ said Rachael, with a tremble in her voice, тАЬhave known him through them all, to be, according to his quiet ways, so faithful to everything honest and good, that if he was never to be heard of more, and I was to live to be a hundred years old, I could say with my last breath, God knows my heart. I have never once left trusting Stephen Blackpool!тАЭ + 

тАЬWe all believe, up at the Lodge, Rachael, that he will be freed from suspicion, sooner or later.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe better I know it to be so believed there, my dear,тАЭ said Rachael, тАЬand the kinder I feel it that you come away from there, purposely to comfort me, and keep me company, and be seen wiтАЩ me when I am not yet free from all suspicion myself, the more grieved I am that I should ever have spoken those mistrusting words to the young lady. And yet IтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬYou donтАЩt mistrust her now, Rachael?тАЭ + 

тАЬNow that you have brought us more together, no. But I canтАЩt at all times keep out of my mindтБатАФтАЭ + 

Her voice so sunk into a low and slow communing with herself, that Sissy, sitting by her side, was obliged to listen with attention. + 

тАЬI canтАЩt at all times keep out of my mind, mistrustings of someone. I canтАЩt think who тАЩtis, I canтАЩt think how or why it may be done, but I mistrust that someone has put Stephen out of the way. I mistrust that by his coming back of his own accord, and showing himself innocent before them all, someone would be confounded, whoтБатАФto prevent thatтБатАФhas stopped him, and put him out of the way.тАЭ + 

тАЬThat is a dreadful thought,тАЭ said Sissy, turning pale. + 

тАЬIt is a dreadful thought to think he may be murdered.тАЭ + 

Sissy shuddered, and turned paler yet. + 

тАЬWhen it makes its way into my mind, dear,тАЭ said Rachael, тАЬand it will come sometimes, though I do all I can to keep it out, wiтАЩ counting on to high numbers as I work, and saying over and over again pieces that I knew when I were a childтБатАФI fall into such a wild, hot hurry, that, however tired I am, I want to walk fast, miles and miles. I must get the better of this before bedtime. IтАЩll walk home wiтАЩ you.тАЭ + 

тАЬHe might fall ill upon the journey back,тАЭ said Sissy, faintly offering a worn-out scrap of hope; тАЬand in such a case, there are many places on the road where he might stop.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut he is in none of them. He has been sought for in all, and heтАЩs not there.тАЭ + 

тАЬTrue,тАЭ was SissyтАЩs reluctant admission. + 

тАЬHeтАЩd walk the journey in two days. If he was footsore and couldnтАЩt walk, I sent him, in the letter he got, the money to ride, lest he should have none of his own to spare.тАЭ + 

тАЬLet us hope that tomorrow will bring something better, Rachael. Come into the air!тАЭ + 

Her gentle hand adjusted RachaelтАЩs shawl upon her shining black hair in the usual manner of her wearing it, and they went out. The night being fine, little knots of hands were here and there lingering at street corners; but it was suppertime with the greater part of them, and there were but few people in the streets. + 

тАЬYouтАЩre not so hurried now, Rachael, and your hand is cooler.тАЭ + 

тАЬI get better, dear, if I can only walk, and breathe a little fresh. Times when I canтАЩt, I turn weak and confused.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut you must not begin to fail, Rachael, for you may be wanted at any time to stand by Stephen. Tomorrow is Saturday. If no news comes tomorrow, let us walk in the country on Sunday morning, and strengthen you for another week. Will you go?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, dear.тАЭ + 

They were by this time in the street where Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs house stood. The way to SissyтАЩs destination led them past the door, and they were going straight towards it. Some train had newly arrived in Coketown, which had put a number of vehicles in motion, and scattered a considerable bustle about the town. Several coaches were rattling before them and behind them as they approached Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs, and one of the latter drew up with such briskness as they were in the act of passing the house, that they looked round involuntarily. The bright gaslight over Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs steps showed them Mrs.┬аSparsit in the coach, in an ecstasy of excitement, struggling to open the door; Mrs.┬аSparsit seeing them at the same moment, called to them to stop. + 

тАЬItтАЩs a coincidence,тАЭ exclaimed Mrs.┬аSparsit, as she was released by the coachman. тАЬItтАЩs a Providence! Come out, maтАЩam!тАЭ then said Mrs.┬аSparsit, to someone inside, тАЬcome out, or weтАЩll have you dragged out!тАЭ + 

Hereupon, no other than the mysterious old woman descended. Whom Mrs.┬аSparsit incontinently collared. + 

тАЬLeave her alone, everybody!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аSparsit, with great energy. тАЬLet nobody touch her. She belongs to me. Come in, maтАЩam!тАЭ then said Mrs.┬аSparsit, reversing her former word of command. тАЬCome in, maтАЩam, or weтАЩll have you dragged in!тАЭ + 

The spectacle of a matron of classical deportment, seizing an ancient woman by the throat, and hauling her into a dwelling-house, would have been under any circumstances, sufficient temptation to all true English stragglers so blest as to witness it, to force a way into that dwelling-house and see the matter out. But when the phenomenon was enhanced by the notoriety and mystery by this time associated all over the town with the Bank robbery, it would have lured the stragglers in, with an irresistible attraction, though the roof had been expected to fall upon their heads. Accordingly, the chance witnesses on the ground, consisting of the busiest of the neighbours to the number of some five-and-twenty, closed in after Sissy and Rachael, as they closed in after Mrs.┬аSparsit and her prize; and the whole body made a disorderly irruption into Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs dining-room, where the people behind lost not a momentтАЩs time in mounting on the chairs, to get the better of the people in front. + 

тАЬFetch Mr.┬аBounderby down!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬRachael, young woman; you know who this is?тАЭ + 

тАЬItтАЩs Mrs.┬аPegler,тАЭ said Rachael. + 

тАЬI should think it is!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аSparsit, exulting. тАЬFetch Mr.┬аBounderby. Stand away, everybody!тАЭ Here old Mrs.┬аPegler, muffling herself up, and shrinking from observation, whispered a word of entreaty. тАЬDonтАЩt tell me,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, aloud. тАЬI have told you twenty times, coming along, that I will not leave you till I have handed you over to him myself.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby now appeared, accompanied by Mr.┬аGradgrind and the whelp, with whom he had been holding conference upstairs. Mr.┬аBounderby looked more astonished than hospitable, at sight of this uninvited party in his dining-room. + 

тАЬWhy, whatтАЩs the matter now!тАЭ said he. тАЬMrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam?тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ explained that worthy woman, тАЬI trust it is my good fortune to produce a person you have much desired to find. Stimulated by my wish to relieve your mind, sir, and connecting together such imperfect clues to the part of the country in which that person might be supposed to reside, as have been afforded by the young woman, Rachael, fortunately now present to identify, I have had the happiness to succeed, and to bring that person with meтБатАФI need not say most unwillingly on her part. It has not been, sir, without some trouble that I have effected this; but trouble in your service is to me a pleasure, and hunger, thirst, and cold a real gratification.тАЭ + 

Here Mrs.┬аSparsit ceased; for Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs visage exhibited an extraordinary combination of all possible colours and expressions of discomfiture, as old Mrs.┬аPegler was disclosed to his view. + 

тАЬWhy, what do you mean by this?тАЭ was his highly unexpected demand, in great warmth. тАЬI ask you, what do you mean by this, Mrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam?тАЭ + 

тАЬSir!тАЭ exclaimed Mrs.┬аSparsit, faintly. + 

тАЬWhy donтАЩt you mind your own business, maтАЩam?тАЭ roared Bounderby. тАЬHow dare you go and poke your officious nose into my family affairs?тАЭ + 

This allusion to her favourite feature overpowered Mrs.┬аSparsit. She sat down stiffly in a chair, as if she were frozen; and with a fixed stare at Mr.┬аBounderby, slowly grated her mittens against one another, as if they were frozen too. + 

тАЬMy dear Josiah!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аPegler, trembling. тАЬMy darling boy! I am not to blame. ItтАЩs not my fault, Josiah. I told this lady over and over again, that I knew she was doing what would not be agreeable to you, but she would do it.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat did you let her bring you for? CouldnтАЩt you knock her cap off, or her tooth out, or scratch her, or do something or other to her?тАЭ asked Bounderby. + 

тАЬMy own boy! She threatened me that if I resisted her, I should be brought by constables, and it was better to come quietly than make that stir in such aтАЭтБатАФMrs.┬аPegler glanced timidly but proudly round the wallsтБатАФтАЬsuch a fine house as this. Indeed, indeed, it is not my fault! My dear, noble, stately boy! I have always lived quiet, and secret, Josiah, my dear. I have never broken the condition once. I have never said I was your mother. I have admired you at a distance; and if I have come to town sometimes, with long times between, to take a proud peep at you, I have done it unbeknown, my love, and gone away again.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, with his hands in his pockets, walked in impatient mortification up and down at the side of the long dining-table, while the spectators greedily took in every syllable of Mrs.┬аPeglerтАЩs appeal, and at each succeeding syllable became more and more round-eyed. Mr.┬аBounderby still walking up and down when Mrs.┬аPegler had done, Mr.┬аGradgrind addressed that maligned old lady: + 

тАЬI am surprised, madam,тАЭ he observed with severity, тАЬthat in your old age you have the face to claim Mr.┬аBounderby for your son, after your unnatural and inhuman treatment of him.тАЭ + 

тАЬMe unnatural!тАЭ cried poor old Mrs.┬аPegler. тАЬMe inhuman! To my dear boy?тАЭ + 

тАЬDear!тАЭ repeated Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬYes; dear in his self-made prosperity, madam, I dare say. Not very dear, however, when you deserted him in his infancy, and left him to the brutality of a drunken grandmother.тАЭ + 

тАЬI deserted my Josiah!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аPegler, clasping her hands. тАЬNow, Lord forgive you, sir, for your wicked imaginations, and for your scandal against the memory of my poor mother, who died in my arms before Josiah was born. May you repent of it, sir, and live to know better!тАЭ + 

She was so very earnest and injured, that Mr.┬аGradgrind, shocked by the possibility which dawned upon him, said in a gentler tone: + 

тАЬDo you deny, then, madam, that you left your son toтБатАФto be brought up in the gutter?тАЭ + 

тАЬJosiah in the gutter!тАЭ exclaimed Mrs.┬аPegler. тАЬNo such a thing, sir. Never! For shame on you! My dear boy knows, and will give you to know, that though he come of humble parents, he come of parents that loved him as dear as the best could, and never thought it hardship on themselves to pinch a bit that he might write and cipher beautiful, and IтАЩve his books at home to show it! Aye, have I!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аPegler, with indignant pride. тАЬAnd my dear boy knows, and will give you to know, sir, that after his beloved father died, when he was eight years old, his mother, too, could pinch a bit, as it was her duty and her pleasure and her pride to do it, to help him out in life, and put him тАЩprentice. And a steady lad he was, and a kind master he had to lend him a hand, and well he worked his own way forward to be rich and thriving. And IтАЩll give you to know, sirтБатАФfor this my dear boy wonтАЩtтБатАФthat though his mother kept but a little village shop, he never forgot her, but pensioned me on thirty pound a yearтБатАФmore than I want, for I put by out of itтБатАФonly making the condition that I was to keep down in my own part, and make no boasts about him, and not trouble him. And I never have, except with looking at him once a year, when he has never knowed it. And itтАЩs right,тАЭ said poor old Mrs.┬аPegler, in affectionate championship, тАЬthat I should keep down in my own part, and I have no doubts that if I was here I should do a many unbefitting things, and I am well contented, and I can keep my pride in my Josiah to myself, and I can love for loveтАЩs own sake! And I am ashamed of you, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аPegler, lastly, тАЬfor your slanders and suspicions. And I never stood here before, nor never wanted to stand here when my dear son said no. And I shouldnтАЩt be here now, if it hadnтАЩt been for being brought here. And for shame upon you, Oh, for shame, to accuse me of being a bad mother to my son, with my son standing here to tell you so different!тАЭ + 

The bystanders, on and off the dining-room chairs, raised a murmur of sympathy with Mrs.┬аPegler, and Mr.┬аGradgrind felt himself innocently placed in a very distressing predicament, when Mr.┬аBounderby, who had never ceased walking up and down, and had every moment swelled larger and larger, and grown redder and redder, stopped short. + 

тАЬI donтАЩt exactly know,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬhow I come to be favoured with the attendance of the present company, but I donтАЩt inquire. When theyтАЩre quite satisfied, perhaps theyтАЩll be so good as to disperse; whether theyтАЩre satisfied or not, perhaps theyтАЩll be so good as to disperse. IтАЩm not bound to deliver a lecture on my family affairs, I have not undertaken to do it, and IтАЩm not a going to do it. Therefore those who expect any explanation whatever upon that branch of the subject, will be disappointedтБатАФparticularly Tom Gradgrind, and he canтАЩt know it too soon. In reference to the Bank robbery, there has been a mistake made, concerning my mother. If there hadnтАЩt been over-officiousness it wouldnтАЩt have been made, and I hate over-officiousness at all times, whether or no. Good evening!тАЭ + 

Although Mr.┬аBounderby carried it off in these terms, holding the door open for the company to depart, there was a blustering sheepishness upon him, at once extremely crestfallen and superlatively absurd. Detected as the bully of humility, who had built his windy reputation upon lies, and in his boastfulness had put the honest truth as far away from him as if he had advanced the mean claim (there is no meaner) to tack himself on to a pedigree, he cut a most ridiculous figure. With the people filing off at the door he held, who he knew would carry what had passed to the whole town, to be given to the four winds, he could not have looked a bully more shorn and forlorn, if he had had his ears cropped. Even that unlucky female, Mrs.┬аSparsit, fallen from her pinnacle of exultation into the Slough of Despond, was not in so bad a plight as that remarkable man and self-made humbug, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. + 

Rachael and Sissy, leaving Mrs.┬аPegler to occupy a bed at her sonтАЩs for that night, walked together to the gate of Stone Lodge and there parted. Mr.┬аGradgrind joined them before they had gone very far, and spoke with much interest of Stephen Blackpool; for whom he thought this signal failure of the suspicions against Mrs.┬аPegler was likely to work well. + 

As to the whelp; throughout this scene as on all other late occasions, he had stuck close to Bounderby. He seemed to feel that as long as Bounderby could make no discovery without his knowledge, he was so far safe. He never visited his sister, and had only seen her once since she went home: that is to say on the night when he still stuck close to Bounderby, as already related. + 

There was one dim unformed fear lingering about his sisterтАЩs mind, to which she never gave utterance, which surrounded the graceless and ungrateful boy with a dreadful mystery. The same dark possibility had presented itself in the same shapeless guise, this very day, to Sissy, when Rachael spoke of someone who would be confounded by StephenтАЩs return, having put him out of the way. Louisa had never spoken of harbouring any suspicion of her brother in connection with the robbery, she and Sissy had held no confidence on the subject, save in that one interchange of looks when the unconscious father rested his gray head on his hand; but it was understood between them, and they both knew it. This other fear was so awful, that it hovered about each of them like a ghostly shadow; neither daring to think of its being near herself, far less of its being near the other. + 

And still the forced spirit which the whelp had plucked up, throve with him. If Stephen Blackpool was not the thief, let him show himself. Why didnтАЩt he? + 

Another night. Another day and night. No Stephen Blackpool. Where was the man, and why did he not come back? + 

VI + 

The Starlight + 

The Sunday was a bright Sunday in autumn, clear and cool, when early in the morning Sissy and Rachael met, to walk in the country. + 

As Coketown cast ashes not only on its own head but on the neighbourhoodтАЩs tooтБатАФafter the manner of those pious persons who do penance for their own sins by putting other people into sackclothтБатАФit was customary for those who now and then thirsted for a draught of pure air, which is not absolutely the most wicked among the vanities of life, to get a few miles away by the railroad, and then begin their walk, or their lounge in the fields. Sissy and Rachael helped themselves out of the smoke by the usual means, and were put down at a station about midway between the town and Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs retreat. + 

Though the green landscape was blotted here and there with heaps of coal, it was green elsewhere, and there were trees to see, and there were larks singing (though it was Sunday), and there were pleasant scents in the air, and all was overarched by a bright blue sky. In the distance one way, Coketown showed as a black mist; in another distance hills began to rise; in a third, there was a faint change in the light of the horizon where it shone upon the far-off sea. Under their feet, the grass was fresh; beautiful shadows of branches flickered upon it, and speckled it; hedgerows were luxuriant; everything was at peace. Engines at pitsтАЩ mouths, and lean old horses that had worn the circle of their daily labour into the ground, were alike quiet; wheels had ceased for a short space to turn; and the great wheel of earth seemed to revolve without the shocks and noises of another time. + 

They walked on across the fields and down the shady lanes, sometimes getting over a fragment of a fence so rotten that it dropped at a touch of the foot, sometimes passing near a wreck of bricks and beams overgrown with grass, marking the site of deserted works. They followed paths and tracks, however slight. Mounds where the grass was rank and high, and where brambles, dock-weed, and suchlike vegetation, were confusedly heaped together, they always avoided; for dismal stories were told in that country of the old pits hidden beneath such indications. + 

The sun was high when they sat down to rest. They had seen no one, near or distant, for a long time; and the solitude remained unbroken. тАЬIt is so still here, Rachael, and the way is so untrodden, that I think we must be the first who have been here all the summer.тАЭ + 

As Sissy said it, her eyes were attracted by another of those rotten fragments of fence upon the ground. She got up to look at it. тАЬAnd yet I donтАЩt know. This has not been broken very long. The wood is quite fresh where it gave way. Here are footsteps too.тБатАФO Rachael!тАЭ + 

She ran back, and caught her round the neck. Rachael had already started up. + 

тАЬWhat is the matter?тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt know. There is a hat lying in the grass.тАЭ They went forward together. Rachael took it up, shaking from head to foot. She broke into a passion of tears and lamentations: Stephen Blackpool was written in his own hand on the inside. + 

тАЬO the poor lad, the poor lad! He has been made away with. He is lying murdered here!тАЭ + 

тАЬIs thereтБатАФhas the hat any blood upon it?тАЭ Sissy faltered. + 

They were afraid to look; but they did examine it, and found no mark of violence, inside or out. It had been lying there some days, for rain and dew had stained it, and the mark of its shape was on the grass where it had fallen. They looked fearfully about them, without moving, but could see nothing more. тАЬRachael,тАЭ Sissy whispered, тАЬI will go on a little by myself.тАЭ + 

She had unclasped her hand, and was in the act of stepping forward, when Rachael caught her in both arms with a scream that resounded over the wide landscape. Before them, at their very feet, was the brink of a black ragged chasm hidden by the thick grass. They sprang back, and fell upon their knees, each hiding her face upon the otherтАЩs neck. + 

тАЬO, my good Lord! HeтАЩs down there! Down there!тАЭ At first this, and her terrific screams, were all that could be got from Rachael, by any tears, by any prayers, by any representations, by any means. It was impossible to hush her; and it was deadly necessary to hold her, or she would have flung herself down the shaft. + 

тАЬRachael, dear Rachael, good Rachael, for the love of Heaven, not these dreadful cries! Think of Stephen, think of Stephen, think of Stephen!тАЭ + 

By an earnest repetition of this entreaty, poured out in all the agony of such a moment, Sissy at last brought her to be silent, and to look at her with a tearless face of stone. + 

тАЬRachael, Stephen may be living. You wouldnтАЩt leave him lying maimed at the bottom of this dreadful place, a moment, if you could bring help to him?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, no, no!тАЭ + 

тАЬDonтАЩt stir from here, for his sake! Let me go and listen.тАЭ + 

She shuddered to approach the pit; but she crept towards it on her hands and knees, and called to him as loud as she could call. She listened, but no sound replied. She called again and listened; still no answering sound. She did this, twenty, thirty times. She took a little clod of earth from the broken ground where he had stumbled, and threw it in. She could not hear it fall. + 

The wide prospect, so beautiful in its stillness but a few minutes ago, almost carried despair to her brave heart, as she rose and looked all round her, seeing no help. тАЬRachael, we must lose not a moment. We must go in different directions, seeking aid. You shall go by the way we have come, and I will go forward by the path. Tell anyone you see, and everyone what has happened. Think of Stephen, think of Stephen!тАЭ + 

She knew by RachaelтАЩs face that she might trust her now. And after standing for a moment to see her running, wringing her hands as she ran, she turned and went upon her own search; she stopped at the hedge to tie her shawl there as a guide to the place, then threw her bonnet aside, and ran as she had never run before. + 

Run, Sissy, run, in HeavenтАЩs name! DonтАЩt stop for breath. Run, run! Quickening herself by carrying such entreaties in her thoughts, she ran from field to field, and lane to lane, and place to place, as she had never run before; until she came to a shed by an engine-house, where two men lay in the shade, asleep on straw. + 

First to wake them, and next to tell them, all so wild and breathless as she was, what had brought her there, were difficulties; but they no sooner understood her than their spirits were on fire like hers. One of the men was in a drunken slumber, but on his comradeтАЩs shouting to him that a man had fallen down the Old Hell Shaft, he started out to a pool of dirty water, put his head in it, and came back sober. + 

With these two men she ran to another half-a-mile further, and with that one to another, while they ran elsewhere. Then a horse was found; and she got another man to ride for life or death to the railroad, and send a message to Louisa, which she wrote and gave him. By this time a whole village was up: and windlasses, ropes, poles, candles, lanterns, all things necessary, were fast collecting and being brought into one place, to be carried to the Old Hell Shaft. + 

It seemed now hours and hours since she had left the lost man lying in the grave where he had been buried alive. She could not bear to remain away from it any longerтБатАФit was like deserting himтБатАФand she hurried swiftly back, accompanied by half-a-dozen labourers, including the drunken man whom the news had sobered, and who was the best man of all. When they came to the Old Hell Shaft, they found it as lonely as she had left it. The men called and listened as she had done, and examined the edge of the chasm, and settled how it had happened, and then sat down to wait until the implements they wanted should come up. + 

Every sound of insects in the air, every stirring of the leaves, every whisper among these men, made Sissy tremble, for she thought it was a cry at the bottom of the pit. But the wind blew idly over it, and no sound arose to the surface, and they sat upon the grass, waiting and waiting. After they had waited some time, straggling people who had heard of the accident began to come up; then the real help of implements began to arrive. In the midst of this, Rachael returned; and with her party there was a surgeon, who brought some wine and medicines. But, the expectation among the people that the man would be found alive was very slight indeed. + 

There being now people enough present to impede the work, the sobered man put himself at the head of the rest, or was put there by the general consent, and made a large ring round the Old Hell Shaft, and appointed men to keep it. Besides such volunteers as were accepted to work, only Sissy and Rachael were at first permitted within this ring; but, later in the day, when the message brought an express from Coketown, Mr.┬аGradgrind and Louisa, and Mr.┬аBounderby, and the whelp, were also there. + 

The sun was four hours lower than when Sissy and Rachael had first sat down upon the grass, before a means of enabling two men to descend securely was rigged with poles and ropes. Difficulties had arisen in the construction of this machine, simple as it was; requisites had been found wanting, and messages had had to go and return. It was five oтАЩclock in the afternoon of the bright autumnal Sunday, before a candle was sent down to try the air, while three or four rough faces stood crowded close together, attentively watching it: the man at the windlass lowering as they were told. The candle was brought up again, feebly burning, and then some water was cast in. Then the bucket was hooked on; and the sobered man and another got in with lights, giving the word тАЬLower away!тАЭ + 

As the rope went out, tight and strained, and the windlass creaked, there was not a breath among the one or two hundred men and women looking on, that came as it was wont to come. The signal was given and the windlass stopped, with abundant rope to spare. Apparently so long an interval ensued with the men at the windlass standing idle, that some women shrieked that another accident had happened! But the surgeon who held the watch, declared five minutes not to have elapsed yet, and sternly admonished them to keep silence. He had not well done speaking, when the windlass was reversed and worked again. Practised eyes knew that it did not go as heavily as it would if both workmen had been coming up, and that only one was returning. + 

The rope came in tight and strained; and ring after ring was coiled upon the barrel of the windlass, and all eyes were fastened on the pit. The sobered man was brought up and leaped out briskly on the grass. There was an universal cry of тАЬAlive or dead?тАЭ and then a deep, profound hush. + 

When he said тАЬAlive!тАЭ a great shout arose and many eyes had tears in them. + 

тАЬBut heтАЩs hurt very bad,тАЭ he added, as soon as he could make himself heard again. тАЬWhereтАЩs doctor? HeтАЩs hurt so very bad, sir, that we donno how to get him up.тАЭ + 

They all consulted together, and looked anxiously at the surgeon, as he asked some questions, and shook his head on receiving the replies. The sun was setting now; and the red light in the evening sky touched every face there, and caused it to be distinctly seen in all its rapt suspense. + 

The consultation ended in the men returning to the windlass, and the pitman going down again, carrying the wine and some other small matters with him. Then the other man came up. In the meantime, under the surgeonтАЩs directions, some men brought a hurdle, on which others made a thick bed of spare clothes covered with loose straw, while he himself contrived some bandages and slings from shawls and handkerchiefs. As these were made, they were hung upon an arm of the pitman who had last come up, with instructions how to use them: and as he stood, shown by the light he carried, leaning his powerful loose hand upon one of the poles, and sometimes glancing down the pit, and sometimes glancing round upon the people, he was not the least conspicuous figure in the scene. It was dark now, and torches were kindled. + 

It appeared from the little this man said to those about him, which was quickly repeated all over the circle, that the lost man had fallen upon a mass of crumbled rubbish with which the pit was half choked up, and that his fall had been further broken by some jagged earth at the side. He lay upon his back with one arm doubled under him, and according to his own belief had hardly stirred since he fell, except that he had moved his free hand to a side pocket, in which he remembered to have some bread and meat (of which he had swallowed crumbs), and had likewise scooped up a little water in it now and then. He had come straight away from his work, on being written to, and had walked the whole journey; and was on his way to Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs country house after dark, when he fell. He was crossing that dangerous country at such a dangerous time, because he was innocent of what was laid to his charge, and couldnтАЩt rest from coming the nearest way to deliver himself up. The Old Hell Shaft, the pitman said, with a curse upon it, was worthy of its bad name to the last; for though Stephen could speak now, he believed it would soon be found to have mangled the life out of him. + 

When all was ready, this man, still taking his last hurried charges from his comrades and the surgeon after the windlass had begun to lower him, disappeared into the pit. The rope went out as before, the signal was made as before, and the windlass stopped. No man removed his hand from it now. Everyone waited with his grasp set, and his body bent down to the work, ready to reverse and wind in. At length the signal was given, and all the ring leaned forward. + 

For, now, the rope came in, tightened and strained to its utmost as it appeared, and the men turned heavily, and the windlass complained. It was scarcely endurable to look at the rope, and think of its giving way. But, ring after ring was coiled upon the barrel of the windlass safely, and the connecting chains appeared, and finally the bucket with the two men holding on at the sidesтБатАФa sight to make the head swim, and oppress the heartтБатАФand tenderly supporting between them, slung and tied within, the figure of a poor, crushed, human creature. + 

A low murmur of pity went round the throng, and the women wept aloud, as this form, almost without form, was moved very slowly from its iron deliverance, and laid upon the bed of straw. At first, none but the surgeon went close to it. He did what he could in its adjustment on the couch, but the best that he could do was to cover it. That gently done, he called to him Rachael and Sissy. And at that time the pale, worn, patient face was seen looking up at the sky, with the broken right hand lying bare on the outside of the covering garments, as if waiting to be taken by another hand. + 

They gave him drink, moistened his face with water, and administered some drops of cordial and wine. Though he lay quite motionless looking up at the sky, he smiled and said, тАЬRachael.тАЭ She stooped down on the grass at his side, and bent over him until her eyes were between his and the sky, for he could not so much as turn them to look at her. + 

тАЬRachael, my dear.тАЭ + 

She took his hand. He smiled again and said, тАЬDonтАЩt let тАЩt go.тАЭ + 

тАЬThouтАЩrt in great pain, my own dear Stephen?тАЭ + 

тАЬI haтАЩ been, but not now. I haтАЩ beenтБатАФdreadful, and dree, and long, my dearтБатАФbut тАЩtis ower now. Ah, Rachael, aw a muddle! FroтАЩ first to last, a muddle!тАЭ + 

The spectre of his old look seemed to pass as he said the word. + 

тАЬI haтАЩ fell into thтАЩ pit, my dear, as have cost wiтАЩin the knowledge oтАЩ old fok now livin, hundreds and hundreds oтАЩ menтАЩs livesтБатАФfathers, sons, brothers, dear to thousands anтАЩ thousands, anтАЩ keeping тАЩem froтАЩ want and hunger. I haтАЩ fell into a pit that haтАЩ been wiтАЩ thтАЩ firedamp crueller than battle. I haтАЩ read on тАЩt in the public petition, as onny one may read, froтАЩ the men that works in pits, in which they haтАЩ prayтАЩn and prayтАЩn the lawmakers for ChristтАЩs sake not to let their work be murder to тАЩem, but to spare тАЩem for thтАЩ wives and children that they loves as well as gentlefok loves theirs. When it were in work, it killed wiтАЩout need; when тАЩtis let alone, it kills wiтАЩout need. See how we die anтАЩ no need, one way anтАЩ anotherтБатАФin a muddleтБатАФevery day!тАЭ + 

He faintly said it, without any anger against anyone. Merely as the truth. + 

тАЬThy little sister, Rachael, thou hast not forgot her. ThouтАЩrt not like to forget her now, and me so nigh her. Thou knowтАЩstтБатАФpoor, patient, suffтАЩrin, dearтБатАФhow thou didst work for her, seetтАЩn all day long in her little chair at thy winder, and how she died, young and misshapen, awlung oтАЩ sickly air as hadтАЩn no need to be, anтАЩ awlung oтАЩ working peopleтАЩs miserable homes. A muddle! Aw a muddle!тАЭ + 

Louisa approached him; but he could not see her, lying with his face turned up to the night sky. + 

тАЬIf aw thтАЩ things that tooches us, my dear, was not so muddled, I shouldтАЩn haтАЩ hadтАЩn need to coom heer. If we was not in a muddle among ourseln, I shouldтАЩn haтАЩ been, by my own fellow weavers and workinтАЩ brothers, so mistook. If Mr.┬аBounderby had ever knowтАЩd me rightтБатАФif heтАЩd ever knowтАЩd me at awтБатАФhe wouldтАЩn haтАЩ tookтАЩn offence wiтАЩ me. He wouldтАЩn haтАЩ suspectтАЩn me. But look up yonder, Rachael! Look aboove!тАЭ + 

Following his eyes, she saw that he was gazing at a star. + 

тАЬIt haтАЩ shined upon me,тАЭ he said reverently, тАЬin my pain and trouble down below. It haтАЩ shined into my mind. I haтАЩ lookтАЩn at тАЩt and thowt oтАЩ thee, Rachael, till the muddle in my mind have cleared awa, above a bit, I hope. If soom haтАЩ been wantinтАЩ in unnerstanтАЩin me better, I, too, haтАЩ been wantinтАЩ in unnerstanтАЩin them better. When I got thy letter, I easily believen that what the yoong ledy sen and done to me, and what her brother sen and done to me, was one, and that there were a wicked plot betwixt тАЩem. When I fell, I were in anger wiтАЩ her, anтАЩ hurryin on tтАЩ be as onjust tтАЩ her as oothers was tтАЩ me. But in our judgments, like as in our doins, we mun bear and forbear. In my pain anтАЩ trouble, lookin up yonderтБатАФwiтАЩ it shinin on meтБатАФI haтАЩ seen more clear, and haтАЩ made it my dyin prayer that aw thтАЩ world may onтАЩy coom toogether more, anтАЩ get a better unnerstanтАЩin oтАЩ one another, than when I were in тАЩt my own weak seln.тАЭ + 

Louisa hearing what he said, bent over him on the opposite side to Rachael, so that he could see her. + 

тАЬYou haтАЩ heard?тАЭ he said, after a few momentsтАЩ silence. тАЬI haтАЩ not forgot you, ledy.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, Stephen, I have heard you. And your prayer is mine.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou haтАЩ a father. Will yo takтАЩ a message to him?тАЭ + 

тАЬHe is here,тАЭ said Louisa, with dread. тАЬShall I bring him to you?тАЭ + 

тАЬIf yo please.тАЭ + 

Louisa returned with her father. Standing hand-in-hand, they both looked down upon the solemn countenance. + 

тАЬSir, yo will clear me anтАЩ mak my name good wiтАЩ aw men. This I leave to yo.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind was troubled and asked how? + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ was the reply: тАЬyor son will tell yo how. Ask him. I mak no charges: I leave none ahint me: not a single word. I haтАЩ seen anтАЩ spokтАЩn wiтАЩ yor son, one night. I ask no more oтАЩ yo than that yo clear meтБатАФanтАЩ I trust to yo to do тАЩt.тАЭ + 

The bearers being now ready to carry him away, and the surgeon being anxious for his removal, those who had torches or lanterns, prepared to go in front of the litter. Before it was raised, and while they were arranging how to go, he said to Rachael, looking upward at the star: + 

тАЬOften as I coom to myseln, and found it shininтАЩ on me down there in my trouble, I thowt it were the star as guided to Our SaviourтАЩs home. I awmust think it be the very star!тАЭ + 

They lifted him up, and he was overjoyed to find that they were about to take him in the direction whither the star seemed to him to lead. + 

тАЬRachael, beloved lass! DonтАЩt let go my hand. We may walk toogether tтАЩnight, my dear!тАЭ + 

тАЬI will hold thy hand, and keep beside thee, Stephen, all the way.тАЭ + 

тАЬBless thee! Will soombody be pleased to coover my face!тАЭ + 

They carried him very gently along the fields, and down the lanes, and over the wide landscape; Rachael always holding the hand in hers. Very few whispers broke the mournful silence. It was soon a funeral procession. The star had shown him where to find the God of the poor; and through humility, and sorrow, and forgiveness, he had gone to his RedeemerтАЩs rest. + 

VII + 

Whelp-Hunting + 

Before the ring formed round the Old Hell Shaft was broken, one figure had disappeared from within it. Mr.┬аBounderby and his shadow had not stood near Louisa, who held her fatherтАЩs arm, but in a retired place by themselves. When Mr.┬аGradgrind was summoned to the couch, Sissy, attentive to all that happened, slipped behind that wicked shadowтБатАФa sight in the horror of his face, if there had been eyes there for any sight but oneтБатАФand whispered in his ear. Without turning his head, he conferred with her a few moments, and vanished. Thus the whelp had gone out of the circle before the people moved. + 

When the father reached home, he sent a message to Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs, desiring his son to come to him directly. The reply was, that Mr.┬аBounderby having missed him in the crowd, and seeing nothing of him since, had supposed him to be at Stone Lodge. + 

тАЬI believe, father,тАЭ said Louisa, тАЬhe will not come back to town tonight.тАЭ Mr.┬аGradgrind turned away, and said no more. + 

In the morning, he went down to the Bank himself as soon as it was opened, and seeing his sonтАЩs place empty (he had not the courage to look in at first) went back along the street to meet Mr.┬аBounderby on his way there. To whom he said that, for reasons he would soon explain, but entreated not then to be asked for, he had found it necessary to employ his son at a distance for a little while. Also, that he was charged with the duty of vindicating Stephen BlackpoolтАЩs memory, and declaring the thief. Mr.┬аBounderby quite confounded, stood stock-still in the street after his father-in-law had left him, swelling like an immense soap-bubble, without its beauty. + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind went home, locked himself in his room, and kept it all that day. When Sissy and Louisa tapped at his door, he said, without opening it, тАЬNot now, my dears; in the evening.тАЭ On their return in the evening, he said, тАЬI am not able yetтБатАФtomorrow.тАЭ He ate nothing all day, and had no candle after dark; and they heard him walking to and fro late at night. + 

But, in the morning he appeared at breakfast at the usual hour, and took his usual place at the table. Aged and bent he looked, and quite bowed down; and yet he looked a wiser man, and a better man, than in the days when in this life he wanted nothingтБатАФbut Facts. Before he left the room, he appointed a time for them to come to him; and so, with his gray head drooping, went away. + 

тАЬDear father,тАЭ said Louisa, when they kept their appointment, тАЬyou have three young children left. They will be different, I will be different yet, with HeavenтАЩs help.тАЭ + 

She gave her hand to Sissy, as if she meant with her help too. + 

тАЬYour wretched brother,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬDo you think he had planned this robbery, when he went with you to the lodging?тАЭ + 

тАЬI fear so, father. I know he had wanted money very much, and had spent a great deal.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe poor man being about to leave the town, it came into his evil brain to cast suspicion on him?тАЭ + 

тАЬI think it must have flashed upon him while he sat there, father. For I asked him to go there with me. The visit did not originate with him.тАЭ + 

тАЬHe had some conversation with the poor man. Did he take him aside?тАЭ + 

тАЬHe took him out of the room. I asked him afterwards, why he had done so, and he made a plausible excuse; but since last night, father, and when I remember the circumstances by its light, I am afraid I can imagine too truly what passed between them.тАЭ + 

тАЬLet me know,тАЭ said her father, тАЬif your thoughts present your guilty brother in the same dark view as mine.тАЭ + 

тАЬI fear, father,тАЭ hesitated Louisa, тАЬthat he must have made some representation to Stephen BlackpoolтБатАФperhaps in my name, perhaps in his ownтБатАФwhich induced him to do in good faith and honesty, what he had never done before, and to wait about the Bank those two or three nights before he left the town.тАЭ + 

тАЬToo plain!тАЭ returned the father. тАЬToo plain!тАЭ + 

He shaded his face, and remained silent for some moments. Recovering himself, he said: + 

тАЬAnd now, how is he to be found? How is he to be saved from justice? In the few hours that I can possibly allow to elapse before I publish the truth, how is he to be found by us, and only by us? Ten thousand pounds could not effect it.тАЭ + 

тАЬSissy has effected it, father.тАЭ + 

He raised his eyes to where she stood, like a good fairy in his house, and said in a tone of softened gratitude and grateful kindness, тАЬIt is always you, my child!тАЭ + 

тАЬWe had our fears,тАЭ Sissy explained, glancing at Louisa, тАЬbefore yesterday; and when I saw you brought to the side of the litter last night, and heard what passed (being close to Rachael all the time), I went to him when no one saw, and said to him, тАШDonтАЩt look at me. See where your father is. Escape at once, for his sake and your own!тАЩ He was in a tremble before I whispered to him, and he started and trembled more then, and said, тАШWhere can I go? I have very little money, and I donтАЩt know who will hide me!тАЩ I thought of fatherтАЩs old circus. I have not forgotten where Mr.┬аSleary goes at this time of year, and I read of him in a paper only the other day. I told him to hurry there, and tell his name, and ask Mr.┬аSleary to hide him till I came. тАШIтАЩll get to him before the morning,тАЩ he said. And I saw him shrink away among the people.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank Heaven!тАЭ exclaimed his father. тАЬHe may be got abroad yet.тАЭ + 

It was the more hopeful as the town to which Sissy had directed him was within three hoursтАЩ journey of Liverpool, whence he could be swiftly dispatched to any part of the world. But, caution being necessary in communicating with himтБатАФfor there was a greater danger every moment of his being suspected now, and nobody could be sure at heart but that Mr.┬аBounderby himself, in a bullying vein of public zeal, might play a Roman partтБатАФit was consented that Sissy and Louisa should repair to the place in question, by a circuitous course, alone; and that the unhappy father, setting forth in an opposite direction, should get round to the same bourne by another and wider route. It was further agreed that he should not present himself to Mr.┬аSleary, lest his intentions should be mistrusted, or the intelligence of his arrival should cause his son to take flight anew; but, that the communication should be left to Sissy and Louisa to open; and that they should inform the cause of so much misery and disgrace, of his fatherтАЩs being at hand and of the purpose for which they had come. When these arrangements had been well considered and were fully understood by all three, it was time to begin to carry them into execution. Early in the afternoon, Mr.┬аGradgrind walked direct from his own house into the country, to be taken up on the line by which he was to travel; and at night the remaining two set forth upon their different course, encouraged by not seeing any face they knew. + 

The two travelled all night, except when they were left, for odd numbers of minutes, at branch-places, up illimitable flights of steps, or down wellsтБатАФwhich was the only variety of those branchesтБатАФand, early in the morning, were turned out on a swamp, a mile or two from the town they sought. From this dismal spot they were rescued by a savage old postilion, who happened to be up early, kicking a horse in a fly: and so were smuggled into the town by all the back lanes where the pigs lived: which, although not a magnificent or even savoury approach, was, as is usual in such cases, the legitimate highway. + 

The first thing they saw on entering the town was the skeleton of SlearyтАЩs Circus. The company had departed for another town more than twenty miles off, and had opened there last night. The connection between the two places was by a hilly turnpike-road, and the travelling on that road was very slow. Though they took but a hasty breakfast, and no rest (which it would have been in vain to seek under such anxious circumstances), it was noon before they began to find the bills of SlearyтАЩs Horse-Riding on barns and walls, and one oтАЩclock when they stopped in the marketplace. + 

A Grand Morning Performance by the Riders, commencing at that very hour, was in course of announcement by the bellman as they set their feet upon the stones of the street. Sissy recommended that, to avoid making inquiries and attracting attention in the town, they should present themselves to pay at the door. If Mr.┬аSleary were taking the money, he would be sure to know her, and would proceed with discretion. If he were not, he would be sure to see them inside; and, knowing what he had done with the fugitive, would proceed with discretion still. + 

Therefore, they repaired, with fluttering hearts, to the well-remembered booth. The flag with the inscription SlearyтАЩs Horse-Riding was there; and the Gothic niche was there; but Mr.┬аSleary was not there. Master Kidderminster, grown too maturely turfy to be received by the wildest credulity as Cupid any more, had yielded to the invincible force of circumstances (and his beard), and, in the capacity of a man who made himself generally useful, presided on this occasion over the exchequerтБатАФhaving also a drum in reserve, on which to expend his leisure moments and superfluous forces. In the extreme sharpness of his look out for base coin, Mr.┬аKidderminster, as at present situated, never saw anything but money; so Sissy passed him unrecognised, and they went in. + 

The Emperor of Japan, on a steady old white horse stencilled with black spots, was twirling five wash-hand basins at once, as it is the favourite recreation of that monarch to do. Sissy, though well acquainted with his Royal line, had no personal knowledge of the present Emperor, and his reign was peaceful. Miss Josephine Sleary, in her celebrated graceful Equestrian Tyrolean Flower Act, was then announced by a new clown (who humorously said Cauliflower Act), and Mr.┬аSleary appeared, leading her in. + 

Mr.┬аSleary had only made one cut at the Clown with his long whiplash, and the Clown had only said, тАЬIf you do it again, IтАЩll throw the horse at you!тАЭ when Sissy was recognised both by father and daughter. But they got through the Act with great self-possession; and Mr.┬аSleary, saving for the first instant, conveyed no more expression into his locomotive eye than into his fixed one. The performance seemed a little long to Sissy and Louisa, particularly when it stopped to afford the Clown an opportunity of telling Mr.┬аSleary (who said тАЬIndeed, sir!тАЭ to all his observations in the calmest way, and with his eye on the house) about two legs sitting on three legs looking at one leg, when in came four legs, and laid hold of one leg, and up got two legs, caught hold of three legs, and threw тАЩem at four legs, who ran away with one leg. For, although an ingenious Allegory relating to a butcher, a three-legged stool, a dog, and a leg of mutton, this narrative consumed time; and they were in great suspense. At last, however, little fair-haired Josephine made her curtsey amid great applause; and the Clown, left alone in the ring, had just warmed himself, and said, тАЬNow IтАЩll have a turn!тАЭ when Sissy was touched on the shoulder, and beckoned out. + 

She took Louisa with her; and they were received by Mr.┬аSleary in a very little private apartment, with canvas sides, a grass floor, and a wooden ceiling all aslant, on which the box company stamped their approbation, as if they were coming through. тАЬThethilia,тАЭ said Mr.┬аSleary, who had brandy and water at hand, тАЬit doth me good to thee you. You wath alwayth a favourite with uth, and youтАЩve done uth credith thinth the old timeth IтАЩm thure. You mutht thee our people, my dear, afore we thpeak of bithnith, or theyтАЩll break their hearthтБатАФethpethially the women. HereтАЩth Jothphine hath been and got married to E. W. B. Childerth, and thee hath got a boy, and though heтАЩth only three yearth old, he thtickth on to any pony you can bring againtht him. HeтАЩth named The Little Wonder of Thcolathtic Equitation; and if you donтАЩt hear of that boy at AthleyтАЩth, youтАЩll hear of him at Parith. And you recollect Kidderminthter, that wath thought to be rather thweet upon yourthelf? Well. HeтАЩth married too. Married a widder. Old enough to be hith mother. Thee wath Tightrope, thee wath, and now theeтАЩth nothingтБатАФon accounth of fat. TheyтАЩve got two children, tho weтАЩre thtrong in the Fairy bithnith and the Nurthery dodge. If you wath to thee our Children in the Wood, with their father and mother both a dyinтАЩ on a hortheтБатАФtheir uncle a retheiving of тАЩem ath hith wardth, upon a hortheтБатАФthemthelvth both a goinтАЩ a black-berryinтАЩ on a hortheтБатАФand the Robinth a coming in to cover тАЩem with leavth, upon a hortheтБатАФyouтАЩd thay it wath the completetht thing ath ever you thet your eyeth on! And you remember Emma Gordon, my dear, ath wath aтАЩmotht a mother to you? Of courthe you do; I neednтАЩt athk. Well! Emma, thee lotht her huthband. He wath throwтАЩd a heavy back-fall off a Elephant in a thort of a Pagoda thing ath the Thultan of the Indieth, and he never got the better of it; and thee married a thecond timeтБатАФmarried a Cheethemonger ath fell in love with her from the frontтБатАФand heтАЩth a Overtheer and makinтАЩ a fortun.тАЭ + 

These various changes, Mr.┬аSleary, very short of breath now, related with great heartiness, and with a wonderful kind of innocence, considering what a bleary and brandy-and-watery old veteran he was. Afterwards he brought in Josephine, and E. W. B. Childers (rather deeply lined in the jaws by daylight), and the Little Wonder of Scholastic Equitation, and in a word, all the company. Amazing creatures they were in LouisaтАЩs eyes, so white and pink of complexion, so scant of dress, and so demonstrative of leg; but it was very agreeable to see them crowding about Sissy, and very natural in Sissy to be unable to refrain from tears. + 

тАЬThere! Now Thethilia hath kithd all the children, and hugged all the women, and thaken handth all round with all the men, clear, every one of you, and ring in the band for the thecond part!тАЭ + 

As soon as they were gone, he continued in a low tone. тАЬNow, Thethilia, I donтАЩt athk to know any thecreth, but I thuppothe I may conthider thith to be Mith Thquire.тАЭ + 

тАЬThis is his sister. Yes.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd tтАЩother onтАЩth daughter. ThatтАЩh what I mean. Hope I thee you well, mith. And I hope the ThquireтАЩth well?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy father will be here soon,тАЭ said Louisa, anxious to bring him to the point. тАЬIs my brother safe?тАЭ + 

тАЬThafe and thound!тАЭ he replied. тАЬI want you jutht to take a peep at the Ring, mith, through here. Thethilia, you know the dodgeth; find a thpy-hole for yourthelf.тАЭ + 

They each looked through a chink in the boards. + 

тАЬThatтАЩh Jack the Giant KillerтБатАФpiethe of comic infant bithnith,тАЭ said Sleary. тАЬThereтАЩth a property-houthe, you thee, for Jack to hide in; thereтАЩth my Clown with a thauthepan-lid and a thpit, for JackтАЩth thervant; thereтАЩth little Jack himthelf in a thplendid thoot of armour; thereтАЩth two comic black thervanth twithe ath big ath the houthe, to thtand by it and to bring it in and clear it; and the Giant (a very ecthpenthive bathket one), he anтАЩt on yet. Now, do you thee тАЩem all?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ they both said. + 

тАЬLook at тАЩem again,тАЭ said Sleary, тАЬlook at тАЩem well. You thee em all? Very good. Now, mith;тАЭ he put a form for them to sit on; тАЬI have my opinionth, and the Thquire your father hath hith. I donтАЩt want to know what your brotherтАЩth been up to; ith better for me not to know. All I thay ith, the Thquire hath thtood by Thethilia, and IтАЩll thtand by the Thquire. Your brother ith one them black thervanth.тАЭ + 

Louisa uttered an exclamation, partly of distress, partly of satisfaction. + 

тАЬIth a fact,тАЭ said Sleary, тАЬand even knowinтАЩ it, you couldnтАЩt put your finger on him. Let the Thquire come. I thall keep your brother here after the performanth. I thant undreth him, nor yet wath hith paint off. Let the Thquire come here after the performanth, or come here yourthelf after the performanth, and you thall find your brother, and have the whole plathe to talk to him in. Never mind the lookth of him, ath long ath heтАЩth well hid.тАЭ + 

Louisa, with many thanks and with a lightened load, detained Mr.┬аSleary no longer then. She left her love for her brother, with her eyes full of tears; and she and Sissy went away until later in the afternoon. + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind arrived within an hour afterwards. He too had encountered no one whom he knew; and was now sanguine with SlearyтАЩs assistance, of getting his disgraced son to Liverpool in the night. As neither of the three could be his companion without almost identifying him under any disguise, he prepared a letter to a correspondent whom he could trust, beseeching him to ship the bearer off at any cost, to North or South America, or any distant part of the world to which he could be the most speedily and privately dispatched. + 

This done, they walked about, waiting for the Circus to be quite vacated; not only by the audience, but by the company and by the horses. After watching it a long time, they saw Mr.┬аSleary bring out a chair and sit down by the side-door, smoking; as if that were his signal that they might approach. + 

тАЬYour thervant, Thquire,тАЭ was his cautious salutation as they passed in. тАЬIf you want me youтАЩll find me here. You muthnтАЩt mind your thon having a comic livery on.тАЭ + 

They all three went in; and Mr.┬аGradgrind sat down forlorn, on the ClownтАЩs performing chair in the middle of the ring. On one of the back benches, remote in the subdued light and the strangeness of the place, sat the villainous whelp, sulky to the last, whom he had the misery to call his son. + 

In a preposterous coat, like a beadleтАЩs, with cuffs and flaps exaggerated to an unspeakable extent; in an immense waistcoat, knee-breeches, buckled shoes, and a mad cocked hat; with nothing fitting him, and everything of coarse material, moth-eaten and full of holes; with seams in his black face, where fear and heat had started through the greasy composition daubed all over it; anything so grimly, detestably, ridiculously shameful as the whelp in his comic livery, Mr.┬аGradgrind never could by any other means have believed in, weighable and measurable fact though it was. And one of his model children had come to this! + 

At first the whelp would not draw any nearer, but persisted in remaining up there by himself. Yielding at length, if any concession so sullenly made can be called yielding, to the entreaties of SissyтБатАФfor Louisa he disowned altogetherтБатАФhe came down, bench by bench, until he stood in the sawdust, on the verge of the circle, as far as possible, within its limits from where his father sat. + 

тАЬHow was this done?тАЭ asked the father. + 

тАЬHow was what done?тАЭ moodily answered the son. + 

тАЬThis robbery,тАЭ said the father, raising his voice upon the word. + 

тАЬI forced the safe myself overnight, and shut it up ajar before I went away. I had had the key that was found, made long before. I dropped it that morning, that it might be supposed to have been used. I didnтАЩt take the money all at once. I pretended to put my balance away every night, but I didnтАЩt. Now you know all about it.тАЭ + 

тАЬIf a thunderbolt had fallen on me,тАЭ said the father, тАЬit would have shocked me less than this!тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt see why,тАЭ grumbled the son. тАЬSo many people are employed in situations of trust; so many people, out of so many, will be dishonest. I have heard you talk, a hundred times, of its being a law. How can I help laws? You have comforted others with such things, father. Comfort yourself!тАЭ + 

The father buried his face in his hands, and the son stood in his disgraceful grotesqueness, biting straw: his hands, with the black partly worn away inside, looking like the hands of a monkey. The evening was fast closing in; and from time to time, he turned the whites of his eyes restlessly and impatiently towards his father. They were the only parts of his face that showed any life or expression, the pigment upon it was so thick. + 

тАЬYou must be got to Liverpool, and sent abroad.тАЭ + 

тАЬI suppose I must. I canтАЩt be more miserable anywhere,тАЭ whimpered the whelp, тАЬthan I have been here, ever since I can remember. ThatтАЩs one thing.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind went to the door, and returned with Sleary, to whom he submitted the question, How to get this deplorable object away? + 

тАЬWhy, IтАЩve been thinking of it, Thquire. ThereтАЩth not muth time to lothe, tho you muth thay yeth or no. Ith over twenty mileth to the rail. ThereтАЩth a coath in half an hour, that goeth to the rail, тАЩpurpothe to cath the mail train. That train will take him right to Liverpool.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut look at him,тАЭ groaned Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬWill any coachтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt mean that he thould go in the comic livery,тАЭ said Sleary. тАЬThay the word, and IтАЩll make a Jothkin of him, out of the wardrobe, in five minutes.тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt understand,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬA JothkinтБатАФa Carter. Make up your mind quick, Thquire. ThereтАЩll be beer to feth. IтАЩve never met with nothing but beer athтАЩll ever clean a comic blackamoor.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind rapidly assented; Mr.┬аSleary rapidly turned out from a box, a smock frock, a felt hat, and other essentials; the whelp rapidly changed clothes behind a screen of baize; Mr.┬аSleary rapidly brought beer, and washed him white again. + 

тАЬNow,тАЭ said Sleary, тАЬcome along to the coath, and jump up behind; IтАЩll go with you there, and theyтАЩll thuppothe you one of my people. Thay farewell to your family, and tharpтАЩth the word.тАЭ With which he delicately retired. + 

тАЬHere is your letter,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. тАЬAll necessary means will be provided for you. Atone, by repentance and better conduct, for the shocking action you have committed, and the dreadful consequences to which it has led. Give me your hand, my poor boy, and may God forgive you as I do!тАЭ + 

The culprit was moved to a few abject tears by these words and their pathetic tone. But, when Louisa opened her arms, he repulsed her afresh. + 

тАЬNot you. I donтАЩt want to have anything to say to you!тАЭ + 

тАЬO Tom, Tom, do we end so, after all my love!тАЭ + 

тАЬAfter all your love!тАЭ he returned, obdurately. тАЬPretty love! Leaving old Bounderby to himself, and packing my best friend Mr.┬аHarthouse off, and going home just when I was in the greatest danger. Pretty love that! Coming out with every word about our having gone to that place, when you saw the net was gathering round me. Pretty love that! You have regularly given me up. You never cared for me.тАЭ + 

тАЬTharpтАЩth the word!тАЭ said Sleary, at the door. + 

They all confusedly went out: Louisa crying to him that she forgave him, and loved him still, and that he would one day be sorry to have left her so, and glad to think of these her last words, far away: when someone ran against them. Mr.┬аGradgrind and Sissy, who were both before him while his sister yet clung to his shoulder, stopped and recoiled. + 

For, there was Bitzer, out of breath, his thin lips parted, his thin nostrils distended, his white eyelashes quivering, his colourless face more colourless than ever, as if he ran himself into a white heat, when other people ran themselves into a glow. There he stood, panting and heaving, as if he had never stopped since the night, now long ago, when he had run them down before. + 

тАЬIтАЩm sorry to interfere with your plans,тАЭ said Bitzer, shaking his head, тАЬbut I canтАЩt allow myself to be done by horse-riders. I must have young Mr.┬аTom; he mustnтАЩt be got away by horse-riders; here he is in a smock frock, and I must have him!тАЭ + 

By the collar, too, it seemed. For, so he took possession of him. + 

VIII + 

Philosophical + 

They went back into the booth, Sleary shutting the door to keep intruders out. Bitzer, still holding the paralysed culprit by the collar, stood in the ring, blinking at his old patron through the darkness of the twilight. + 

тАЬBitzer,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, broken down, and miserably submissive to him, тАЬhave you a heart?тАЭ + 

тАЬThe circulation, sir,тАЭ returned Bitzer, smiling at the oddity of the question, тАЬcouldnтАЩt be carried on without one. No man, sir, acquainted with the facts established by Harvey relating to the circulation of the blood, can doubt that I have a heart.тАЭ + 

тАЬIs it accessible,тАЭ cried Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬto any compassionate influence?тАЭ + 

тАЬIt is accessible to reason, sir,тАЭ returned the excellent young man. тАЬAnd to nothing else.тАЭ + 

They stood looking at each other; Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs face as white as the pursuerтАЩs. + 

тАЬWhat motiveтБатАФeven what motive in reasonтБатАФcan you have for preventing the escape of this wretched youth,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬand crushing his miserable father? See his sister here. Pity us!тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ returned Bitzer, in a very businesslike and logical manner, тАЬsince you ask me what motive I have in reason, for taking young Mr.┬аTom back to Coketown, it is only reasonable to let you know. I have suspected young Mr.┬аTom of this bank-robbery from the first. I had had my eye upon him before that time, for I knew his ways. I have kept my observations to myself, but I have made them; and I have got ample proofs against him now, besides his running away, and besides his own confession, which I was just in time to overhear. I had the pleasure of watching your house yesterday morning, and following you here. I am going to take young Mr.┬аTom back to Coketown, in order to deliver him over to Mr.┬аBounderby. Sir, I have no doubt whatever that Mr.┬аBounderby will then promote me to young Mr.┬аTomтАЩs situation. And I wish to have his situation, sir, for it will be a rise to me, and will do me good.тАЭ + 

тАЬIf this is solely a question of self-interest with youтБатАФтАЭ Mr.┬аGradgrind began. + 

тАЬI beg your pardon for interrupting you, sir,тАЭ returned Bitzer; тАЬbut I am sure you know that the whole social system is a question of self-interest. What you must always appeal to, is a personтАЩs self-interest. ItтАЩs your only hold. We are so constituted. I was brought up in that catechism when I was very young, sir, as you are aware.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat sum of money,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬwill you set against your expected promotion?тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, sir,тАЭ returned Bitzer, тАЬfor hinting at the proposal; but I will not set any sum against it. Knowing that your clear head would propose that alternative, I have gone over the calculations in my mind; and I find that to compound a felony, even on very high terms indeed, would not be as safe and good for me as my improved prospects in the Bank.тАЭ + 

тАЬBitzer,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, stretching out his hands as though he would have said, See how miserable I am! тАЬBitzer, I have but one chance left to soften you. You were many years at my school. If, in remembrance of the pains bestowed upon you there, you can persuade yourself in any degree to disregard your present interest and release my son, I entreat and pray you to give him the benefit of that remembrance.тАЭ + 

тАЬI really wonder, sir,тАЭ rejoined the old pupil in an argumentative manner, тАЬto find you taking a position so untenable. My schooling was paid for; it was a bargain; and when I came away, the bargain ended.тАЭ + 

It was a fundamental principle of the Gradgrind philosophy that everything was to be paid for. Nobody was ever on any account to give anybody anything, or render anybody help without purchase. Gratitude was to be abolished, and the virtues springing from it were not to be. Every inch of the existence of mankind, from birth to death, was to be a bargain across a counter. And if we didnтАЩt get to Heaven that way, it was not a politico-economical place, and we had no business there. + 

тАЬI donтАЩt deny,тАЭ added Bitzer, тАЬthat my schooling was cheap. But that comes right, sir. I was made in the cheapest market, and have to dispose of myself in the dearest.тАЭ + 

He was a little troubled here, by Louisa and Sissy crying. + 

тАЬPray donтАЩt do that,тАЭ said he, тАЬitтАЩs of no use doing that: it only worries. You seem to think that I have some animosity against young Mr.┬аTom; whereas I have none at all. I am only going, on the reasonable grounds I have mentioned, to take him back to Coketown. If he was to resist, I should set up the cry of Stop Thief! But, he wonтАЩt resist, you may depend upon it.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аSleary, who with his mouth open and his rolling eye as immovably jammed in his head as his fixed one, had listened to these doctrines with profound attention, here stepped forward. + 

тАЬThquire, you know perfectly well, and your daughter knowth perfectly well (better than you, becauthe I thed it to her), that I didnтАЩt know what your thon had done, and that I didnтАЩt want to knowтБатАФI thed it wath better not, though I only thought, then, it wath thome thkylarking. However, thith young man having made it known to be a robbery of a bank, why, thatтАЩh a theriouth thing; muth too theriouth a thing for me to compound, ath thith young man hath very properly called it. Conthequently, Thquire, you muthnтАЩt quarrel with me if I take thith young manтАЩth thide, and thay heтАЩth right and thereтАЩth no help for it. But I tell you what IтАЩll do, Thquire; IтАЩll drive your thon and thith young man over to the rail, and prevent expothure here. I canтАЩt conthent to do more, but IтАЩll do that.тАЭ + 

Fresh lamentations from Louisa, and deeper affliction on Mr.┬аGradgrindтАЩs part, followed this desertion of them by their last friend. But, Sissy glanced at him with great attention; nor did she in her own breast misunderstand him. As they were all going out again, he favoured her with one slight roll of his movable eye, desiring her to linger behind. As he locked the door, he said excitedly: + 

тАЬThe Thquire thtood by you, Thethilia, and IтАЩll thtand by the Thquire. More than that: thith ith a prethiouth rathcal, and belongth to that bluthtering Cove that my people nearly pitht out oтАЩ winder. ItтАЩll be a dark night; IтАЩve got a horthe thatтАЩll do anything but thpeak; IтАЩve got a pony thatтАЩll go fifteen mile an hour with Childerth driving of him; IтАЩve got a dog thatтАЩll keep a man to one plathe four-and-twenty hourth. Get a word with the young Thquire. Tell him, when he theeth our horthe begin to danthe, not to be afraid of being thpilt, but to look out for a pony-gig coming up. Tell him, when he theeth that gig clothe by, to jump down, and itтАЩll take him off at a rattling pathe. If my dog leth thith young man thtir a peg on foot, I give him leave to go. And if my horthe ever thtirth from that thpot where he beginth a danthing, till the morningтБатАФI donтАЩt know him?тБатАФTharpтАЩth the word!тАЭ + 

The word was so sharp, that in ten minutes Mr.┬аChilders, sauntering about the marketplace in a pair of slippers, had his cue, and Mr.┬аSlearyтАЩs equipage was ready. It was a fine sight, to behold the learned dog barking round it, and Mr.┬аSleary instructing him, with his one practicable eye, that Bitzer was the object of his particular attentions. Soon after dark they all three got in and started; the learned dog (a formidable creature) already pinning Bitzer with his eye, and sticking close to the wheel on his side, that he might be ready for him in the event of his showing the slightest disposition to alight. + 

The other three sat up at the inn all night in great suspense. At eight oтАЩclock in the morning Mr.┬аSleary and the dog reappeared: both in high spirits. + 

тАЬAll right, Thquire!тАЭ said Mr.┬аSleary, тАЬyour thon may be aboard-a-thip by thith time. Childerth took him off, an hour and a half after we left there latht night. The horthe danthed the polka till he wath dead beat (he would have walthed if he hadnтАЩt been in harneth), and then I gave him the word and he went to thleep comfortable. When that prethiouth young Rathcal thed heтАЩd go forтАЩard afoot, the dog hung on to hith neck-hankercher with all four legth in the air and pulled him down and rolled him over. Tho he come back into the drag, and there he that, тАЩtill I turned the hortheтАЩth head, at half-patht thixth thith morning.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind overwhelmed him with thanks, of course; and hinted as delicately as he could, at a handsome remuneration in money. + 

тАЬI donтАЩt want money mythelf, Thquire; but Childerth ith a family man, and if you wath to like to offer him a five-pound note, it mightnтАЩt be unactheptable. Likewithe if you wath to thtand a collar for the dog, or a thet of bellth for the horthe, I thould be very glad to take тАЩem. Brandy and water I alwayth take.тАЭ He had already called for a glass, and now called for another. тАЬIf you wouldnтАЩt think it going too far, Thquire, to make a little thpread for the company at about three and thixth ahead, not reckoning Luth, it would make тАЩem happy.тАЭ + 

All these little tokens of his gratitude, Mr.┬аGradgrind very willingly undertook to render. Though he thought them far too slight, he said, for such a service. + 

тАЬVery well, Thquire; then, if youтАЩll only give a Horthe-Riding, a bethpeak, whenever you can, youтАЩll more than balanthe the account. Now, Thquire, if your daughter will ethcuthe me, I thould like one parting word with you.тАЭ + 

Louisa and Sissy withdrew into an adjoining room; Mr.┬аSleary, stirring and drinking his brandy and water as he stood, went on: + 

тАЬThquireтБатАФyou donтАЩt need to be told that dogth ith wonderful animalth.тАЭ + 

тАЬTheir instinct,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬis surprising.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhatever you call itтБатАФand IтАЩm bletht if I know what to call itтАЭтБатАФsaid Sleary, тАЬit ith athtonithing. The way in whith a dogтАЩll find youтБатАФthe dithtanthe heтАЩll come!тАЭ + 

тАЬHis scent,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, тАЬbeing so fine.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩm bletht if I know what to call it,тАЭ repeated Sleary, shaking his head, тАЬbut I have had dogth find me, Thquire, in a way that made me think whether that dog hadnтАЩt gone to another dog, and thed, тАШYou donтАЩt happen to know a perthon of the name of Thleary, do you? Perthon of the name of Thleary, in the Horthe-Riding wayтБатАФthtout manтБатАФgame eye?тАЩ And whether that dog mightnтАЩt have thed, тАШWell, I canтАЩt thay I know him mythelf, but I know a dog that I think would be likely to be acquainted with him.тАЩ And whether that dog mightnтАЩt have thought it over, and thed, тАШThleary, Thleary! O yeth, to be thure! A friend of mine menthioned him to me at one time. I can get you hith addreth directly.тАЩ In conthequenth of my being afore the public, and going about tho muth, you thee, there mutht be a number of dogth acquainted with me, Thquire, that I donтАЩt know!тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind seemed to be quite confounded by this speculation. + 

тАЬAny way,тАЭ said Sleary, after putting his lips to his brandy and water, тАЬith fourteen month ago, Thquire, thinthe we wath at Chethter. We wath getting up our Children in the Wood one morning, when there cometh into our Ring, by the thtage door, a dog. He had travelled a long way, he wath in a very bad condithon, he wath lame, and pretty well blind. He went round to our children, one after another, as if he wath a theeking for a child he knowтАЩd; and then he come to me, and throwd hithelf up behind, and thtood on hith two forelegth, weak ath he wath, and then he wagged hith tail and died. Thquire, that dog wath Merrylegth.тАЭ + 

тАЬSissyтАЩs fatherтАЩs dog!тАЭ + 

тАЬThethiliaтАЩth fatherтАЩth old dog. Now, Thquire, I can take my oath, from my knowledge of that dog, that that man wath deadтБатАФand buriedтБатАФafore that dog come back to me. JothтАЩphine and Childerth and me talked it over a long time, whether I thould write or not. But we agreed, тАШNo. ThereтАЩth nothing comfortable to tell; why unthettle her mind, and make her unhappy?тАЩ Tho, whether her father bathely detherted her; or whether he broke hith own heart alone, rather than pull her down along with him; never will be known, now, Thquire, tillтБатАФno, not till we know how the dogth findth uth out!тАЭ + 

тАЬShe keeps the bottle that he sent her for, to this hour; and she will believe in his affection to the last moment of her life,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind. + 

тАЬIt theemth to prethent two thingth to a perthon, donтАЩt it, Thquire?тАЭ said Mr.┬аSleary, musing as he looked down into the depths of his brandy and water: тАЬone, that there ith a love in the world, not all thelf-interetht after all, but thomething very different; tтАЩother, that it bath a way of ith own of calculating or not calculating, whith thomehow or another ith at leatht ath hard to give a name to, ath the wayth of the dogth ith!тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind looked out of window, and made no reply. Mr.┬аSleary emptied his glass and recalled the ladies. + 

тАЬThethilia my dear, kith me and goodbye! Mith Thquire, to thee you treating of her like a thithter, and a thithter that you trutht and honour with all your heart and more, ith a very pretty thight to me. I hope your brother may live to be better detherving of you, and a greater comfort to you. Thquire, thake handth, firtht and latht! DonтАЩt be croth with uth poor vagabondth. People mutht be amuthed. They canтАЩt be alwayth a learning, nor yet they canтАЩt be alwayth a working, they anтАЩt made for it. You mutht have uth, Thquire. Do the withe thing and the kind thing too, and make the betht of uth; not the wurtht!тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd I never thought before,тАЭ said Mr.┬аSleary, putting his head in at the door again to say it, тАЬthat I wath tho muth of a cackler!тАЭ + 

IX + 

Final + 

It is a dangerous thing to see anything in the sphere of a vain blusterer, before the vain blusterer sees it himself. Mr.┬аBounderby felt that Mrs.┬аSparsit had audaciously anticipated him, and presumed to be wiser than he. Inappeasably indignant with her for her triumphant discovery of Mrs.┬аPegler, he turned this presumption, on the part of a woman in her dependent position, over and over in his mind, until it accumulated with turning like a great snowball. At last he made the discovery that to discharge this highly connected femaleтБатАФto have it in his power to say, тАЬShe was a woman of family, and wanted to stick to me, but I wouldnтАЩt have it, and got rid of herтАЭтБатАФwould be to get the utmost possible amount of crowning glory out of the connection, and at the same time to punish Mrs.┬аSparsit according to her deserts. + 

Filled fuller than ever, with this great idea, Mr.┬аBounderby came in to lunch, and sat himself down in the dining-room of former days, where his portrait was. Mrs.┬аSparsit sat by the fire, with her foot in her cotton stirrup, little thinking whither she was posting. + 

Since the Pegler affair, this gentlewoman had covered her pity for Mr.┬аBounderby with a veil of quiet melancholy and contrition. In virtue thereof, it had become her habit to assume a woeful look, which woeful look she now bestowed upon her patron. + 

тАЬWhatтАЩs the matter now, maтАЩam?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, in a very short, rough way. + 

тАЬPray, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬdo not bite my nose off.тАЭ + 

тАЬBite your nose off, maтАЩam?тАЭ repeated Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬYour nose!тАЭ meaning, as Mrs.┬аSparsit conceived, that it was too developed a nose for the purpose. After which offensive implication, he cut himself a crust of bread, and threw the knife down with a noise. + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit took her foot out of her stirrup, and said, тАЬMr.┬аBounderby, sir!тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam?тАЭ retorted Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬWhat are you staring at?тАЭ + 

тАЬMay I ask, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬhave you been ruffled this morning?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬMay I inquire, sir,тАЭ pursued the injured woman, тАЬwhether I am the unfortunate cause of your having lost your temper?тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, IтАЩll tell you what, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬI am not come here to be bullied. A female may be highly connected, but she canтАЩt be permitted to bother and badger a man in my position, and I am not going to put up with it.тАЭ (Mr.┬аBounderby felt it necessary to get on: foreseeing that if he allowed of details, he would be beaten.) + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit first elevated, then knitted, her Coriolanian eyebrows; gathered up her work into its proper basket; and rose. + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ said she, majestically. тАЬIt is apparent to me that I am in your way at present. I will retire to my own apartment.тАЭ + 

тАЬAllow me to open the door, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, sir; I can do it for myself.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou had better allow me, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, passing her, and getting his hand upon the lock; тАЬbecause I can take the opportunity of saying a word to you, before you go. Mrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam, I rather think you are cramped here, do you know? It appears to me, that, under my humble roof, thereтАЩs hardly opening enough for a lady of your genius in other peopleтАЩs affairs.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit gave him a look of the darkest scorn, and said with great politeness, тАЬReally, sir?тАЭ + 

тАЬI have been thinking it over, you see, since the late affairs have happened, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby; тАЬand it appears to my poor judgmentтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬOh! Pray, sir,тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit interposed, with sprightly cheerfulness, тАЬdonтАЩt disparage your judgment. Everybody knows how unerring Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs judgment is. Everybody has had proofs of it. It must be the theme of general conversation. Disparage anything in yourself but your judgment, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, laughing. + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, very red and uncomfortable, resumed: + 

тАЬIt appears to me, maтАЩam, I say, that a different sort of establishment altogether would bring out a lady of your powers. Such an establishment as your relation, Lady ScadgersтАЩs, now. DonтАЩt you think you might find some affairs there, maтАЩam, to interfere with?тАЭ + 

тАЬIt never occurred to me before, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit; тАЬbut now you mention it, should think it highly probable.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen suppose you try, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, laying an envelope with a cheque in it in her little basket. тАЬYou can take your own time for going, maтАЩam; but perhaps in the meanwhile, it will be more agreeable to a lady of your powers of mind, to eat her meals by herself, and not to be intruded upon. I really ought to apologise to youтБатАФbeing only Josiah Bounderby of CoketownтБатАФfor having stood in your light so long.тАЭ + 

тАЬPray donтАЩt name it, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬIf that portrait could speak, sirтБатАФbut it has the advantage over the original of not possessing the power of committing itself and disgusting othersтБатАФit would testify, that a long period has elapsed since I first habitually addressed it as the picture of a Noodle. Nothing that a Noodle does, can awaken surprise or indignation; the proceedings of a Noodle can only inspire contempt.тАЭ + 

Thus saying, Mrs.┬аSparsit, with her Roman features like a medal struck to commemorate her scorn of Mr.┬аBounderby, surveyed him fixedly from head to foot, swept disdainfully past him, and ascended the staircase. Mr.┬аBounderby closed the door, and stood before the fire; projecting himself after his old explosive manner into his portraitтБатАФand into futurity. + 

Into how much of futurity? He saw Mrs.┬аSparsit fighting out a daily fight at the points of all the weapons in the female armoury, with the grudging, smarting, peevish, tormenting Lady Scadgers, still laid up in bed with her mysterious leg, and gobbling her insufficient income down by about the middle of every quarter, in a mean little airless lodging, a mere closet for one, a mere crib for two; but did he see more? Did he catch any glimpse of himself making a show of Bitzer to strangers, as the rising young man, so devoted to his masterтАЩs great merits, who had won young TomтАЩs place, and had almost captured young Tom himself, in the times when by various rascals he was spirited away? Did he see any faint reflection of his own image making a vainglorious will, whereby five-and-twenty Humbugs, past five-and-fifty years of age, each taking upon himself the name, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, should forever dine in Bounderby Hall, forever lodge in Bounderby buildings, forever attend a Bounderby chapel, forever go to sleep under a Bounderby chaplain, forever be supported out of a Bounderby estate, and forever nauseate all healthy stomachs, with a vast amount of Bounderby balderdash and bluster? Had he any prescience of the day, five years to come, when Josiah Bounderby of Coketown was to die of a fit in the Coketown street, and this same precious will was to begin its long career of quibble, plunder, false pretences, vile example, little service and much law? Probably not. Yet the portrait was to see it all out. + 

Here was Mr.┬аGradgrind on the same day, and in the same hour, sitting thoughtful in his own room. How much of futurity did he see? Did he see himself, a white-haired decrepit man, bending his hitherto inflexible theories to appointed circumstances; making his facts and figures subservient to Faith, Hope, and Charity; and no longer trying to grind that Heavenly trio in his dusty little mills? Did he catch sight of himself, therefore much despised by his late political associates? Did he see them, in the era of its being quite settled that the national dustmen have only to do with one another, and owe no duty to an abstraction called a People, тАЬtaunting the honourable gentlemanтАЭ with this and with that and with what not, five nights a-week, until the small hours of the morning? Probably he had that much foreknowledge, knowing his men. + 

Here was Louisa on the night of the same day, watching the fire as in days of yore, though with a gentler and a humbler face. How much of the future might arise before her vision? Broadsides in the streets, signed with her fatherтАЩs name, exonerating the late Stephen Blackpool, weaver, from misplaced suspicion, and publishing the guilt of his own son, with such extenuation as his years and temptation (he could not bring himself to add, his education) might beseech; were of the present. So, Stephen BlackpoolтАЩs tombstone, with her fatherтАЩs record of his death, was almost of the present, for she knew it was to be. These things she could plainly see. But, how much of the future? + 

A working woman, christened Rachael, after a long illness once again appearing at the ringing of the factory bell, and passing to and fro at the set hours, among the Coketown hands; a woman of pensive beauty, always dressed in black, but sweet-tempered and serene, and even cheerful; who, of all the people in the place, alone appeared to have compassion on a degraded, drunken wretch of her own sex, who was sometimes seen in the town secretly begging of her, and crying to her; a woman working, ever working, but content to do it, and preferring to do it as her natural lot, until she should be too old to labour any more? Did Louisa see this? Such a thing was to be. + 

A lonely brother, many thousands of miles away, writing, on paper blotted with tears, that her words had too soon come true, and that all the treasures in the world would be cheaply bartered for a sight of her dear face? At length this brother coming nearer home, with hope of seeing her, and being delayed by illness; and then a letter, in a strange hand, saying тАЬhe died in hospital, of fever, such a day, and died in penitence and love of you: his last word being your nameтАЭ? Did Louisa see these things? Such things were to be. + 

Herself again a wifeтБатАФa motherтБатАФlovingly watchful of her children, ever careful that they should have a childhood of the mind no less than a childhood of the body, as knowing it to be even a more beautiful thing, and a possession, any hoarded scrap of which, is a blessing and happiness to the wisest? Did Louisa see this? Such a thing was never to be. + 

But, happy SissyтАЩs happy children loving her; all children loving her; she, grown learned in childish lore; thinking no innocent and pretty fancy ever to be despised; trying hard to know her humbler fellow-creatures, and to beautify their lives of machinery and reality with those imaginative graces and delights, without which the heart of infancy will wither up, the sturdiest physical manhood will be morally stark death, and the plainest national prosperity figures can show, will be the Writing on the WallтБатАФshe holding this course as part of no fantastic vow, or bond, or brotherhood, or sisterhood, or pledge, or covenant, or fancy dress, or fancy fair; but simply as a duty to be doneтБатАФdid Louisa see these things of herself? These things were to be. + 

Dear reader! It rests with you and me, whether, in our two fields of action, similar things shall be or not. Let them be! We shall sit with lighter bosoms on the hearth, to see the ashes of our fires turn gray and cold. + 