Book + 

the Second + 

Reaping + 

I + 

Effects in the Bank + 

A sunny midsummer day. There was such a thing sometimes, even in Coketown. + 

Seen from a distance in such weather, Coketown lay shrouded in a haze of its own, which appeared impervious to the sunтАЩs rays. You only knew the town was there, because you knew there could have been no such sulky blotch upon the prospect without a town. A blur of soot and smoke, now confusedly tending this way, now that way, now aspiring to the vault of Heaven, now murkily creeping along the earth, as the wind rose and fell, or changed its quarter: a dense formless jumble, with sheets of cross light in it, that showed nothing but masses of darkness:тБатАФCoketown in the distance was suggestive of itself, though not a brick of it could be seen. + 

The wonder was, it was there at all. It had been ruined so often, that it was amazing how it had borne so many shocks. Surely there never was such fragile chinaware as that of which the millers of Coketown were made. Handle them never so lightly, and they fell to pieces with such ease that you might suspect them of having been flawed before. They were ruined, when they were required to send labouring children to school; they were ruined when inspectors were appointed to look into their works; they were ruined, when such inspectors considered it doubtful whether they were quite justified in chopping people up with their machinery; they were utterly undone, when it was hinted that perhaps they need not always make quite so much smoke. Besides Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs gold spoon which was generally received in Coketown, another prevalent fiction was very popular there. It took the form of a threat. Whenever a Coketowner felt he was ill-usedтБатАФthat is to say, whenever he was not left entirely alone, and it was proposed to hold him accountable for the consequences of any of his actsтБатАФhe was sure to come out with the awful menace, that he would тАЬsooner pitch his property into the Atlantic.тАЭ This had terrified the Home Secretary within an inch of his life, on several occasions. + 

However, the Coketowners were so patriotic after all, that they never had pitched their property into the Atlantic yet, but, on the contrary, had been kind enough to take mighty good care of it. So there it was, in the haze yonder; and it increased and multiplied. + 

The streets were hot and dusty on the summer day, and the sun was so bright that it even shone through the heavy vapour drooping over Coketown, and could not be looked at steadily. Stokers emerged from low underground doorways into factory yards, and sat on steps, and posts, and palings, wiping their swarthy visages, and contemplating coals. The whole town seemed to be frying in oil. There was a stifling smell of hot oil everywhere. The steam-engines shone with it, the dresses of the hands were soiled with it, the mills throughout their many stories oozed and trickled it. The atmosphere of those fairy palaces was like the breath of the simoom: and their inhabitants, wasting with heat, toiled languidly in the desert. But no temperature made the melancholy mad elephants more mad or more sane. Their wearisome heads went up and down at the same rate, in hot weather and cold, wet weather and dry, fair weather and foul. The measured motion of their shadows on the walls, was the substitute Coketown had to show for the shadows of rustling woods; while, for the summer hum of insects, it could offer, all the year round, from the dawn of Monday to the night of Saturday, the whirr of shafts and wheels. + 

Drowsily they whirred all through this sunny day, making the passenger more sleepy and more hot as he passed the humming walls of the mills. Sun-blinds, and sprinklings of water, a little cooled the main streets and the shops; but the mills, and the courts and alleys, baked at a fierce heat. Down upon the river that was black and thick with dye, some Coketown boys who were at largeтБатАФa rare sight thereтБатАФrowed a crazy boat, which made a spumous track upon the water as it jogged along, while every dip of an oar stirred up vile smells. But the sun itself, however beneficent, generally, was less kind to Coketown than hard frost, and rarely looked intently into any of its closer regions without engendering more death than life. So does the eye of Heaven itself become an evil eye, when incapable or sordid hands are interposed between it and the things it looks upon to bless. + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit sat in her afternoon apartment at the Bank, on the shadier side of the frying street. Office-hours were over: and at that period of the day, in warm weather, she usually embellished with her genteel presence, a managerial boardroom over the public office. Her own private sitting-room was a story higher, at the window of which post of observation she was ready, every morning, to greet Mr.┬аBounderby, as he came across the road, with the sympathizing recognition appropriate to a victim. He had been married now a year; and Mrs.┬аSparsit had never released him from her determined pity a moment. + 

The Bank offered no violence to the wholesome monotony of the town. It was another red brick house, with black outside shutters, green inside blinds, a black street-door up two white steps, a brazen doorplate, and a brazen door-handle full stop. It was a size larger than Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs house, as other houses were from a size to half-a-dozen sizes smaller; in all other particulars, it was strictly according to pattern. + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit was conscious that by coming in the evening-tide among the desks and writing implements, she shed a feminine, not to say also aristocratic, grace upon the office. Seated, with her needlework or netting apparatus, at the window, she had a self-laudatory sense of correcting, by her ladylike deportment, the rude business aspect of the place. With this impression of her interesting character upon her, Mrs.┬аSparsit considered herself, in some sort, the Bank Fairy. The townspeople who, in their passing and repassing, saw her there, regarded her as the Bank Dragon keeping watch over the treasures of the mine. + 

What those treasures were, Mrs.┬аSparsit knew as little as they did. Gold and silver coin, precious paper, secrets that if divulged would bring vague destruction upon vague persons (generally, however, people whom she disliked), were the chief items in her ideal catalogue thereof. For the rest, she knew that after office-hours, she reigned supreme over all the office furniture, and over a locked-up iron room with three locks, against the door of which strong chamber the light porter laid his head every night, on a truckle bed, that disappeared at cockcrow. Further, she was lady paramount over certain vaults in the basement, sharply spiked off from communication with the predatory world; and over the relics of the current dayтАЩs work, consisting of blots of ink, worn-out pens, fragments of wafers, and scraps of paper torn so small, that nothing interesting could ever be deciphered on them when Mrs.┬аSparsit tried. Lastly, she was guardian over a little armoury of cutlasses and carbines, arrayed in vengeful order above one of the official chimneypieces; and over that respectable tradition never to be separated from a place of business claiming to be wealthyтБатАФa row of fire-bucketsтБатАФvessels calculated to be of no physical utility on any occasion, but observed to exercise a fine moral influence, almost equal to bullion, on most beholders. + 

A deaf serving-woman and the light porter completed Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs empire. The deaf serving-woman was rumoured to be wealthy; and a saying had for years gone about among the lower orders of Coketown, that she would be murdered some night when the Bank was shut, for the sake of her money. It was generally considered, indeed, that she had been due some time, and ought to have fallen long ago; but she had kept her life, and her situation, with an ill-conditioned tenacity that occasioned much offence and disappointment. + 

Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs tea was just set for her on a pert little table, with its tripod of legs in an attitude, which she insinuated after office-hours, into the company of the stern, leathern-topped, long board-table that bestrode the middle of the room. The light porter placed the tea-tray on it, knuckling his forehead as a form of homage. + 

тАЬThank you, Bitzer,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬThank you, maтАЩam,тАЭ returned the light porter. He was a very light porter indeed; as light as in the days when he blinkingly defined a horse, for girl number twenty. + 

тАЬAll is shut up, Bitzer?тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬAll is shut up, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd what,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, pouring out her tea, тАЬis the news of the day? Anything?тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam, I canтАЩt say that I have heard anything particular. Our people are a bad lot, maтАЩam; but that is no news, unfortunately.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat are the restless wretches doing now?тАЭ asked Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬMerely going on in the old way, maтАЩam. Uniting, and leaguing, and engaging to stand by one another.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt is much to be regretted,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, making her nose more Roman and her eyebrows more Coriolanian in the strength of her severity, тАЬthat the united masters allow of any such class-combinations.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer. + 

тАЬBeing united themselves, they ought one and all to set their faces against employing any man who is united with any other man,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬThey have done that, maтАЩam,тАЭ returned Bitzer; тАЬbut it rather fell through, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬI do not pretend to understand these things,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, with dignity, тАЬmy lot having been signally cast in a widely different sphere; and Mr.┬аSparsit, as a Powler, being also quite out of the pale of any such dissensions. I only know that these people must be conquered, and that itтАЩs high time it was done, once for all.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam,тАЭ returned Bitzer, with a demonstration of great respect for Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs oracular authority. тАЬYou couldnтАЩt put it clearer, I am sure, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

As this was his usual hour for having a little confidential chat with Mrs.┬аSparsit, and as he had already caught her eye and seen that she was going to ask him something, he made a pretence of arranging the rulers, inkstands, and so forth, while that lady went on with her tea, glancing through the open window, down into the street. + 

тАЬHas it been a busy day, Bitzer?тАЭ asked Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬNot a very busy day, my lady. About an average day.тАЭ He now and then slided into my lady, instead of maтАЩam, as an involuntary acknowledgment of Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs personal dignity and claims to reverence. + 

тАЬThe clerks,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, carefully brushing an imperceptible crumb of bread and butter from her left-hand mitten, тАЬare trustworthy, punctual, and industrious, of course?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam, pretty fair, maтАЩam. With the usual exception.тАЭ + 

He held the respectable office of general spy and informer in the establishment, for which volunteer service he received a present at Christmas, over and above his weekly wage. He had grown into an extremely clearheaded, cautious, prudent young man, who was safe to rise in the world. His mind was so exactly regulated, that he had no affections or passions. All his proceedings were the result of the nicest and coldest calculation; and it was not without cause that Mrs.┬аSparsit habitually observed of him, that he was a young man of the steadiest principle she had ever known. Having satisfied himself, on his fatherтАЩs death, that his mother had a right of settlement in Coketown, this excellent young economist had asserted that right for her with such a steadfast adherence to the principle of the case, that she had been shut up in the workhouse ever since. It must be admitted that he allowed her half a pound of tea a year, which was weak in him: first, because all gifts have an inevitable tendency to pauperise the recipient, and secondly, because his only reasonable transaction in that commodity would have been to buy it for as little as he could possibly give, and sell it for as much as he could possibly get; it having been clearly ascertained by philosophers that in this is comprised the whole duty of manтБатАФnot a part of manтАЩs duty, but the whole. + 

тАЬPretty fair, maтАЩam. With the usual exception, maтАЩam,тАЭ repeated Bitzer. + 

тАЬAhтБатАФh!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, shaking her head over her teacup, and taking a long gulp. + 

тАЬMr.┬аThomas, maтАЩam, I doubt Mr.┬аThomas very much, maтАЩam, I donтАЩt like his ways at all.тАЭ + 

тАЬBitzer,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, in a very impressive manner, тАЬdo you recollect my having said anything to you respecting names?тАЭ + 

тАЬI beg your pardon, maтАЩam. ItтАЩs quite true that you did object to names being used, and theyтАЩre always best avoided.тАЭ + 

тАЬPlease to remember that I have a charge here,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, with her air of state. тАЬI hold a trust here, Bitzer, under Mr.┬аBounderby. However improbable both Mr.┬аBounderby and myself might have deemed it years ago, that he would ever become my patron, making me an annual compliment, I cannot but regard him in that light. From Mr.┬аBounderby I have received every acknowledgment of my social station, and every recognition of my family descent, that I could possibly expect. More, far more. Therefore, to my patron I will be scrupulously true. And I do not consider, I will not consider, I cannot consider,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a most extensive stock on hand of honour and morality, тАЬthat I should be scrupulously true, if I allowed names to be mentioned under this roof, that are unfortunatelyтБатАФmost unfortunatelyтБатАФno doubt of thatтБатАФconnected with his.тАЭ + 

Bitzer knuckled his forehead again, and again begged pardon. + 

тАЬNo, Bitzer,тАЭ continued Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬsay an individual, and I will hear you; say Mr.┬аThomas, and you must excuse me.тАЭ + 

тАЬWith the usual exception, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer, trying back, тАЬof an individual.тАЭ + 

тАЬAhтБатАФh!тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit repeated the ejaculation, the shake of the head over her teacup, and the long gulp, as taking up the conversation again at the point where it had been interrupted. + 

тАЬAn individual, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer, тАЬhas never been what he ought to have been, since he first came into the place. He is a dissipated, extravagant idler. He is not worth his salt, maтАЩam. He wouldnтАЩt get it either, if he hadnтАЩt a friend and relation at court, maтАЩam!тАЭ + 

тАЬAhтБатАФh!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, with another melancholy shake of her head. + 

тАЬI only hope, maтАЩam,тАЭ pursued Bitzer, тАЬthat his friend and relation may not supply him with the means of carrying on. Otherwise, maтАЩam, we know out of whose pocket that money comes.тАЭ + 

тАЬAhтБатАФh!тАЭ sighed Mrs.┬аSparsit again, with another melancholy shake of her head. + 

тАЬHe is to be pitied, maтАЩam. The last party I have alluded to, is to be pitied, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer. + 

тАЬYes, Bitzer,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬI have always pitied the delusion, always.тАЭ + 

тАЬAs to an individual, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer, dropping his voice and drawing nearer, тАЬhe is as improvident as any of the people in this town. And you know what their improvidence is, maтАЩam. No one could wish to know it better than a lady of your eminence does.тАЭ + 

тАЬThey would do well,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬto take example by you, Bitzer.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, maтАЩam. But, since you do refer to me, now look at me, maтАЩam. I have put by a little, maтАЩam, already. That gratuity which I receive at Christmas, maтАЩam: I never touch it. I donтАЩt even go the length of my wages, though theyтАЩre not high, maтАЩam. Why canтАЩt they do as I have done, maтАЩam? What one person can do, another can do.тАЭ + 

This, again, was among the fictions of Coketown. Any capitalist there, who had made sixty thousand pounds out of sixpence, always professed to wonder why the sixty thousand nearest hands didnтАЩt each make sixty thousand pounds out of sixpence, and more or less reproached them every one for not accomplishing the little feat. What I did you can do. Why donтАЩt you go and do it? + 

тАЬAs to their wanting recreations, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer, тАЬitтАЩs stuff and nonsense. I donтАЩt want recreations. I never did, and I never shall; I donтАЩt like тАЩem. As to their combining together; there are many of them, I have no doubt, that by watching and informing upon one another could earn a trifle now and then, whether in money or good will, and improve their livelihood. Then, why donтАЩt they improve it, maтАЩam! ItтАЩs the first consideration of a rational creature, and itтАЩs what they pretend to want.тАЭ + 

тАЬPretend indeed!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬI am sure we are constantly hearing, maтАЩam, till it becomes quite nauseous, concerning their wives and families,тАЭ said Bitzer. тАЬWhy look at me, maтАЩam! I donтАЩt want a wife and family. Why should they?тАЭ + 

тАЬBecause they are improvident,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam,тАЭ returned Bitzer, тАЬthatтАЩs where it is. If they were more provident and less perverse, maтАЩam, what would they do? They would say, тАШWhile my hat covers my family,тАЩ or тАШwhile my bonnet covers my family,тАЩтБатАФas the case might be, maтАЩamтБатАФтАШI have only one to feed, and thatтАЩs the person I most like to feed.тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

тАЬTo be sure,тАЭ assented Mrs.┬аSparsit, eating muffin. + 

тАЬThank you, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer, knuckling his forehead again, in return for the favour of Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs improving conversation. тАЬWould you wish a little more hot water, maтАЩam, or is there anything else that I could fetch you?тАЭ + 

тАЬNothing just now, Bitzer.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, maтАЩam. I shouldnтАЩt wish to disturb you at your meals, maтАЩam, particularly tea, knowing your partiality for it,тАЭ said Bitzer, craning a little to look over into the street from where he stood; тАЬbut thereтАЩs a gentleman been looking up here for a minute or so, maтАЩam, and he has come across as if he was going to knock. That is his knock, maтАЩam, no doubt.тАЭ + 

He stepped to the window; and looking out, and drawing in his head again, confirmed himself with, тАЬYes, maтАЩam. Would you wish the gentleman to be shown in, maтАЩam?тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt know who it can be,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, wiping her mouth and arranging her mittens. + 

тАЬA stranger, maтАЩam, evidently.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat a stranger can want at the Bank at this time of the evening, unless he comes upon some business for which he is too late, I donтАЩt know,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬbut I hold a charge in this establishment from Mr.┬аBounderby, and I will never shrink from it. If to see him is any part of the duty I have accepted, I will see him. Use your own discretion, Bitzer.тАЭ + 

Here the visitor, all unconscious of Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs magnanimous words, repeated his knock so loudly that the light porter hastened down to open the door; while Mrs.┬аSparsit took the precaution of concealing her little table, with all its appliances upon it, in a cupboard, and then decamped upstairs, that she might appear, if needful, with the greater dignity. + 

тАЬIf you please, maтАЩam, the gentleman would wish to see you,тАЭ said Bitzer, with his light eye at Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs keyhole. So, Mrs.┬аSparsit, who had improved the interval by touching up her cap, took her classical features downstairs again, and entered the boardroom in the manner of a Roman matron going outside the city walls to treat with an invading general. + 

The visitor having strolled to the window, and being then engaged in looking carelessly out, was as unmoved by this impressive entry as man could possibly be. He stood whistling to himself with all imaginable coolness, with his hat still on, and a certain air of exhaustion upon him, in part arising from excessive summer, and in part from excessive gentility. For it was to be seen with half an eye that he was a thorough gentleman, made to the model of the time; weary of everything, and putting no more faith in anything than Lucifer. + 

тАЬI believe, sir,тАЭ quoth Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬyou wished to see me.тАЭ + 

тАЬI beg your pardon,тАЭ he said, turning and removing his hat; тАЬpray excuse me.тАЭ + 

тАЬHumph!тАЭ thought Mrs.┬аSparsit, as she made a stately bend. тАЬFive and thirty, good-looking, good figure, good teeth, good voice, good breeding, well-dressed, dark hair, bold eyes.тАЭ All which Mrs.┬аSparsit observed in her womanly wayтБатАФlike the Sultan who put his head in the pail of waterтБатАФmerely in dipping down and coming up again. + 

тАЬPlease to be seated, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬThank you. Allow me.тАЭ He placed a chair for her, but remained himself carelessly lounging against the table. тАЬI left my servant at the railway looking after the luggageтБатАФvery heavy train and vast quantity of it in the vanтБатАФand strolled on, looking about me. Exceedingly odd place. Will you allow me to ask you if itтАЩs always as black as this?тАЭ + 

тАЬIn general much blacker,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, in her uncompromising way. + 

тАЬIs it possible! Excuse me: you are not a native, I think?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬIt was once my good or ill fortune, as it may beтБатАФbefore I became a widowтБатАФto move in a very different sphere. My husband was a Powler.тАЭ + 

тАЬBeg your pardon, really!тАЭ said the stranger. тАЬWasтБатАФ?тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit repeated, тАЬA Powler.тАЭ + 

тАЬPowler Family,тАЭ said the stranger, after reflecting a few moments. Mrs.┬аSparsit signified assent. The stranger seemed a little more fatigued than before. + 

тАЬYou must be very much bored here?тАЭ was the inference he drew from the communication. + 

тАЬI am the servant of circumstances, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬand I have long adapted myself to the governing power of my life.тАЭ + 

тАЬVery philosophical,тАЭ returned the stranger, тАЬand very exemplary and laudable, andтБатАФтАЭ It seemed to be scarcely worth his while to finish the sentence, so he played with his watch-chain wearily. + 

тАЬMay I be permitted to ask, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬto what I am indebted for the favour ofтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬAssuredly,тАЭ said the stranger. тАЬMuch obliged to you for reminding me. I am the bearer of a letter of introduction to Mr.┬аBounderby, the banker. Walking through this extraordinarily black town, while they were getting dinner ready at the hotel, I asked a fellow whom I met; one of the working people; who appeared to have been taking a shower-bath of something fluffy, which I assume to be the raw materialтБатАФтАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit inclined her head. + 

тАЬтБатАФRaw materialтБатАФwhere Mr.┬аBounderby, the banker, might reside. Upon which, misled no doubt by the word Banker, he directed me to the Bank. Fact being, I presume, that Mr.┬аBounderby the Banker does not reside in the edifice in which I have the honour of offering this explanation?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬhe does not.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you. I had no intention of delivering my letter at the present moment, nor have I. But strolling on to the Bank to kill time, and having the good fortune to observe at the window,тАЭ towards which he languidly waved his hand, then slightly bowed, тАЬa lady of a very superior and agreeable appearance, I considered that I could not do better than take the liberty of asking that lady where Mr.┬аBounderby the Banker does live. Which I accordingly venture, with all suitable apologies, to do.тАЭ + 

The inattention and indolence of his manner were sufficiently relieved, to Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs thinking, by a certain gallantry at ease, which offered her homage too. Here he was, for instance, at this moment, all but sitting on the table, and yet lazily bending over her, as if he acknowledged an attraction in her that made her charmingтБатАФin her way. + 

тАЬBanks, I know, are always suspicious, and officially must be,тАЭ said the stranger, whose lightness and smoothness of speech were pleasant likewise; suggesting matter far more sensible and humorous than it ever containedтБатАФwhich was perhaps a shrewd device of the founder of this numerous sect, whosoever may have been that great man: тАЬtherefore I may observe that my letterтБатАФhere it isтБатАФis from the member for this placeтБатАФGradgrindтБатАФwhom I have had the pleasure of knowing in London.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit recognized the hand, intimated that such confirmation was quite unnecessary, and gave Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs address, with all needful clues and directions in aid. + 

тАЬThousand thanks,тАЭ said the stranger. тАЬOf course you know the Banker well?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sir,тАЭ rejoined Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬIn my dependent relation towards him, I have known him ten years.тАЭ + 

тАЬQuite an eternity! I think he married GradgrindтАЩs daughter?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, suddenly compressing her mouth, тАЬhe had thatтБатАФhonour.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe lady is quite a philosopher, I am told?тАЭ + 

тАЬIndeed, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬIs she?тАЭ + 

тАЬExcuse my impertinent curiosity,тАЭ pursued the stranger, fluttering over Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs eyebrows, with a propitiatory air, тАЬbut you know the family, and know the world. I am about to know the family, and may have much to do with them. Is the lady so very alarming? Her father gives her such a portentously hardheaded reputation, that I have a burning desire to know. Is she absolutely unapproachable? Repellently and stunningly clever? I see, by your meaning smile, you think not. You have poured balm into my anxious soul. As to age, now. Forty? Five and thirty?тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit laughed outright. тАЬA chit,тАЭ said she. тАЬNot twenty when she was married.тАЭ + 

тАЬI give you my honour, Mrs.┬аPowler,тАЭ returned the stranger, detaching himself from the table, тАЬthat I never was so astonished in my life!тАЭ + 

It really did seem to impress him, to the utmost extent of his capacity of being impressed. He looked at his informant for full a quarter of a minute, and appeared to have the surprise in his mind all the time. тАЬI assure you, Mrs.┬аPowler,тАЭ he then said, much exhausted, тАЬthat the fatherтАЩs manner prepared me for a grim and stony maturity. I am obliged to you, of all things, for correcting so absurd a mistake. Pray excuse my intrusion. Many thanks. Good day!тАЭ + 

He bowed himself out; and Mrs.┬аSparsit, hiding in the window curtain, saw him languishing down the street on the shady side of the way, observed of all the town. + 

тАЬWhat do you think of the gentleman, Bitzer?тАЭ she asked the light porter, when he came to take away. + 

тАЬSpends a deal of money on his dress, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt must be admitted,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬthat itтАЩs very tasteful.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, maтАЩam,тАЭ returned Bitzer, тАЬif thatтАЩs worth the money.тАЭ + 

тАЬBesides which, maтАЩam,тАЭ resumed Bitzer, while he was polishing the table, тАЬhe looks to me as if he gamed.тАЭ + 

тАЬItтАЩs immoral to game,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬItтАЩs ridiculous, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bitzer, тАЬbecause the chances are against the players.тАЭ + 

Whether it was that the heat prevented Mrs.┬аSparsit from working, or whether it was that her hand was out, she did no work that night. She sat at the window, when the sun began to sink behind the smoke; she sat there, when the smoke was burning red, when the colour faded from it, when darkness seemed to rise slowly out of the ground, and creep upward, upward, up to the housetops, up the church steeple, up to the summits of the factory chimneys, up to the sky. Without a candle in the room, Mrs.┬аSparsit sat at the window, with her hands before her, not thinking much of the sounds of evening; the whooping of boys, the barking of dogs, the rumbling of wheels, the steps and voices of passengers, the shrill street cries, the clogs upon the pavement when it was their hour for going by, the shutting-up of shop-shutters. Not until the light porter announced that her nocturnal sweetbread was ready, did Mrs.┬аSparsit arouse herself from her reverie, and convey her dense black eyebrowsтБатАФby that time creased with meditation, as if they needed ironing out-upstairs. + 

тАЬO, you fool!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, when she was alone at her supper. Whom she meant, she did not say; but she could scarcely have meant the sweetbread. + 

II + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse + 

The Gradgrind party wanted assistance in cutting the throats of the Graces. They went about recruiting; and where could they enlist recruits more hopefully, than among the fine gentlemen who, having found out everything to be worth nothing, were equally ready for anything? + 

Moreover, the healthy spirits who had mounted to this sublime height were attractive to many of the Gradgrind school. They liked fine gentlemen; they pretended that they did not, but they did. They became exhausted in imitation of them; and they yaw-yawed in their speech like them; and they served out, with an enervated air, the little mouldy rations of political economy, on which they regaled their disciples. There never before was seen on earth such a wonderful hybrid race as was thus produced. + 

Among the fine gentlemen not regularly belonging to the Gradgrind school, there was one of a good family and a better appearance, with a happy turn of humour which had told immensely with the House of Commons on the occasion of his entertaining it with his (and the Board of Directors) view of a railway accident, in which the most careful officers ever known, employed by the most liberal managers ever heard of, assisted by the finest mechanical contrivances ever devised, the whole in action on the best line ever constructed, had killed five people and wounded thirty-two, by a casualty without which the excellence of the whole system would have been positively incomplete. Among the slain was a cow, and among the scattered articles unowned, a widowтАЩs cap. And the honourable member had so tickled the House (which has a delicate sense of humour) by putting the cap on the cow, that it became impatient of any serious reference to the CoronerтАЩs Inquest, and brought the railway off with cheers and laughter. + 

Now, this gentleman had a younger brother of still better appearance than himself, who had tried life as a Cornet of Dragoons, and found it a bore; and had afterwards tried it in the train of an English minister abroad, and found it a bore; and had then strolled to Jerusalem, and got bored there; and had then gone yachting about the world, and got bored everywhere. To whom this honourable and jocular, member fraternally said one day, тАЬJem, thereтАЩs a good opening among the hard Fact fellows, and they want men. I wonder you donтАЩt go in for statistics.тАЭ Jem, rather taken by the novelty of the idea, and very hard up for a change, was as ready to тАЬgo inтАЭ for statistics as for anything else. So, he went in. He coached himself up with a blue-book or two; and his brother put it about among the hard Fact fellows, and said, тАЬIf you want to bring in, for any place, a handsome dog who can make you a devilish good speech, look after my brother Jem, for heтАЩs your man.тАЭ After a few dashes in the public meeting way, Mr.┬аGradgrind and a council of political sages approved of Jem, and it was resolved to send him down to Coketown, to become known there and in the neighbourhood. Hence the letter Jem had last night shown to Mrs.┬аSparsit, which Mr.┬аBounderby now held in his hand; superscribed, тАЬJosiah Bounderby, Esquire, Banker, Coketown. Specially to introduce James Harthouse, Esquire. Thomas Gradgrind.тАЭ + 

Within an hour of the receipt of this dispatch and Mr.┬аJames HarthouseтАЩs card, Mr.┬аBounderby put on his hat and went down to the hotel. There he found Mr.┬аJames Harthouse looking out of window, in a state of mind so disconsolate, that he was already half-disposed to тАЬgo inтАЭ for something else. + 

тАЬMy name, sir,тАЭ said his visitor, тАЬis Josiah Bounderby, of Coketown.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse was very happy indeed (though he scarcely looked so) to have a pleasure he had long expected. + 

тАЬCoketown, sir,тАЭ said Bounderby, obstinately taking a chair, тАЬis not the kind of place you have been accustomed to. Therefore, if you will allow meтБатАФor whether you will or not, for I am a plain manтБатАФIтАЩll tell you something about it before we go any further.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аHarthouse would be charmed. + 

тАЬDonтАЩt be too sure of that,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬI donтАЩt promise it. First of all, you see our smoke. ThatтАЩs meat and drink to us. ItтАЩs the healthiest thing in the world in all respects, and particularly for the lungs. If you are one of those who want us to consume it, I differ from you. We are not going to wear the bottoms of our boilers out any faster than we wear тАЩem out now, for all the humbugging sentiment in Great Britain and Ireland.тАЭ + 

By way of тАЬgoing inтАЭ to the fullest extent, Mr.┬аHarthouse rejoined, тАЬMr.┬аBounderby, I assure you I am entirely and completely of your way of thinking. On conviction.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am glad to hear it,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬNow, you have heard a lot of talk about the work in our mills, no doubt. You have? Very good. IтАЩll state the fact of it to you. ItтАЩs the pleasantest work there is, and itтАЩs the lightest work there is, and itтАЩs the best-paid work there is. More than that, we couldnтАЩt improve the mills themselves, unless we laid down Turkey carpets on the floors. Which weтАЩre not a-going to do.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby, perfectly right.тАЭ + 

тАЬLastly,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬas to our hands. ThereтАЩs not a hand in this town, sir, man, woman, or child, but has one ultimate object in life. That object is, to be fed on turtle soup and venison with a gold spoon. Now, theyтАЩre not a-goingтБатАФnone of тАЩemтБатАФever to be fed on turtle soup and venison with a gold spoon. And now you know the place.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аHarthouse professed himself in the highest degree instructed and refreshed, by this condensed epitome of the whole Coketown question. + 

тАЬWhy, you see,тАЭ replied Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬit suits my disposition to have a full understanding with a man, particularly with a public man, when I make his acquaintance. I have only one thing more to say to you, Mr.┬аHarthouse, before assuring you of the pleasure with which I shall respond, to the utmost of my poor ability, to my friend Tom GradgrindтАЩs letter of introduction. You are a man of family. DonтАЩt you deceive yourself by supposing for a moment that I am a man of family. I am a bit of dirty riffraff, and a genuine scrap of tag, rag, and bobtail.тАЭ + 

If anything could have exalted JemтАЩs interest in Mr.┬аBounderby, it would have been this very circumstance. Or, so he told him. + 

тАЬSo now,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬwe may shake hands on equal terms. I say, equal terms, because although I know what I am, and the exact depth of the gutter I have lifted myself out of, better than any man does, I am as proud as you are. I am just as proud as you are. Having now asserted my independence in a proper manner, I may come to how do you find yourself, and I hope youтАЩre pretty well.тАЭ + 

The better, Mr.┬аHarthouse gave him to understand as they shook hands, for the salubrious air of Coketown. Mr.┬аBounderby received the answer with favour. + 

тАЬPerhaps you know,тАЭ said he, тАЬor perhaps you donтАЩt know, I married Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter. If you have nothing better to do than to walk up town with me, I shall be glad to introduce you to Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said Jem, тАЬyou anticipate my dearest wishes.тАЭ + 

They went out without further discourse; and Mr.┬аBounderby piloted the new acquaintance who so strongly contrasted with him, to the private red brick dwelling, with the black outside shutters, the green inside blinds, and the black street door up the two white steps. In the drawing-room of which mansion, there presently entered to them the most remarkable girl Mr.┬аJames Harthouse had ever seen. She was so constrained, and yet so careless; so reserved, and yet so watchful; so cold and proud, and yet so sensitively ashamed of her husbandтАЩs braggart humilityтБатАФfrom which she shrunk as if every example of it were a cut or a blow; that it was quite a new sensation to observe her. In face she was no less remarkable than in manner. Her features were handsome; but their natural play was so locked up, that it seemed impossible to guess at their genuine expression. Utterly indifferent, perfectly self-reliant, never at a loss, and yet never at her ease, with her figure in company with them there, and her mind apparently quite aloneтБатАФit was of no use тАЬgoing inтАЭ yet awhile to comprehend this girl, for she baffled all penetration. + 

From the mistress of the house, the visitor glanced to the house itself. There was no mute sign of a woman in the room. No graceful little adornment, no fanciful little device, however trivial, anywhere expressed her influence. Cheerless and comfortless, boastfully and doggedly rich, there the room stared at its present occupants, unsoftened and unrelieved by the least trace of any womanly occupation. As Mr.┬аBounderby stood in the midst of his household gods, so those unrelenting divinities occupied their places around Mr.┬аBounderby, and they were worthy of one another, and well matched. + 

тАЬThis, sir,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬis my wife, Mrs.┬аBounderby: Tom GradgrindтАЩs eldest daughter. Loo, Mr.┬аJames Harthouse. Mr.┬аHarthouse has joined your fatherтАЩs muster-roll. If he is not Tom GradgrindтАЩs colleague before long, I believe we shall at least hear of him in connection with one of our neighbouring towns. You observe, Mr.┬аHarthouse, that my wife is my junior. I donтАЩt know what she saw in me to marry me, but she saw something in me, I suppose, or she wouldnтАЩt have married me. She has lots of expensive knowledge, sir, political and otherwise. If you want to cram for anything, I should be troubled to recommend you to a better adviser than Loo Bounderby.тАЭ + 

To a more agreeable adviser, or one from whom he would be more likely to learn, Mr.┬аHarthouse could never be recommended. + 

тАЬCome!тАЭ said his host. тАЬIf youтАЩre in the complimentary line, youтАЩll get on here, for youтАЩll meet with no competition. I have never been in the way of learning compliments myself, and I donтАЩt profess to understand the art of paying тАЩem. In fact, despise тАЩem. But, your bringing-up was different from mine; mine was a real thing, by George! YouтАЩre a gentleman, and I donтАЩt pretend to be one. I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, and thatтАЩs enough for me. However, though I am not influenced by manners and station, Loo Bounderby may be. She hadnтАЩt my advantagesтБатАФdisadvantages you would call тАЩem, but I call тАЩem advantagesтБатАФso youтАЩll not waste your power, I dare say.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said Jem, turning with a smile to Louisa, тАЬis a noble animal in a comparatively natural state, quite free from the harness in which a conventional hack like myself works.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou respect Mr.┬аBounderby very much,тАЭ she quietly returned. тАЬIt is natural that you should.тАЭ + 

He was disgracefully thrown out, for a gentleman who had seen so much of the world, and thought, тАЬNow, how am I to take this?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are going to devote yourself, as I gather from what Mr.┬аBounderby has said, to the service of your country. You have made up your mind,тАЭ said Louisa, still standing before him where she had first stoppedтБатАФin all the singular contrariety of her self-possession, and her being obviously very ill at easeтБатАФтАЬto show the nation the way out of all its difficulties.тАЭ + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby,тАЭ he returned, laughing, тАЬupon my honour, no. I will make no such pretence to you. I have seen a little, here and there, up and down; I have found it all to be very worthless, as everybody has, and as some confess they have, and some do not; and I am going in for your respected fatherтАЩs opinionsтБатАФreally because I have no choice of opinions, and may as well back them as anything else.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave you none of your own?тАЭ asked Louisa. + 

тАЬI have not so much as the slightest predilection left. I assure you I attach not the least importance to any opinions. The result of the varieties of boredom I have undergone, is a conviction (unless conviction is too industrious a word for the lazy sentiment I entertain on the subject), that any set of ideas will do just as much good as any other set, and just as much harm as any other set. ThereтАЩs an English family with a charming Italian motto. What will be, will be. ItтАЩs the only truth going!тАЭ + 

This vicious assumption of honesty in dishonestyтБатАФa vice so dangerous, so deadly, and so commonтБатАФseemed, he observed, a little to impress her in his favour. He followed up the advantage, by saying in his pleasantest manner: a manner to which she might attach as much or as little meaning as she pleased: тАЬThe side that can prove anything in a line of units, tens, hundreds, and thousands, Mrs.┬аBounderby, seems to me to afford the most fun, and to give a man the best chance. I am quite as much attached to it as if I believed it. I am quite ready to go in for it, to the same extent as if I believed it. And what more could I possibly do, if I did believe it!тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are a singular politician,тАЭ said Louisa. + 

тАЬPardon me; I have not even that merit. We are the largest party in the state, I assure you, Mrs.┬аBounderby, if we all fell out of our adopted ranks and were reviewed together.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, who had been in danger of bursting in silence, interposed here with a project for postponing the family dinner till half-past six, and taking Mr.┬аJames Harthouse in the meantime on a round of visits to the voting and interesting notabilities of Coketown and its vicinity. The round of visits was made; and Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, with a discreet use of his blue coaching, came off triumphantly, though with a considerable accession of boredom. + 

In the evening, he found the dinner-table laid for four, but they sat down only three. It was an appropriate occasion for Mr.┬аBounderby to discuss the flavour of the hapтАЩorth of stewed eels he had purchased in the streets at eight years old; and also of the inferior water, specially used for laying the dust, with which he had washed down that repast. He likewise entertained his guest over the soup and fish, with the calculation that he (Bounderby) had eaten in his youth at least three horses under the guise of polonies and saveloys. These recitals, Jem, in a languid manner, received with тАЬcharming!тАЭ every now and then; and they probably would have decided him to тАЬgo inтАЭ for Jerusalem again tomorrow morning, had he been less curious respecting Louisa. + 

тАЬIs there nothing,тАЭ he thought, glancing at her as she sat at the head of the table, where her youthful figure, small and slight, but very graceful, looked as pretty as it looked misplaced; тАЬis there nothing that will move that face?тАЭ + 

Yes! By Jupiter, there was something, and here it was, in an unexpected shape. Tom appeared. She changed as the door opened, and broke into a beaming smile. + 

A beautiful smile. Mr.┬аJames Harthouse might not have thought so much of it, but that he had wondered so long at her impassive face. She put out her handтБатАФa pretty little soft hand; and her fingers closed upon her brotherтАЩs, as if she would have carried them to her lips. + 

тАЬAy, ay?тАЭ thought the visitor. тАЬThis whelp is the only creature she cares for. So, so!тАЭ + 

The whelp was presented, and took his chair. The appellation was not flattering, but not unmerited. + 

тАЬWhen I was your age, young Tom,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬI was punctual, or I got no dinner!тАЭ + 

тАЬWhen you were my age,тАЭ resumed Tom, тАЬyou hadnтАЩt a wrong balance to get right, and hadnтАЩt to dress afterwards.тАЭ + 

тАЬNever mind that now,тАЭ said Bounderby. + 

тАЬWell, then,тАЭ grumbled Tom. тАЬDonтАЩt begin with me.тАЭ + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said Harthouse, perfectly hearing this under-strain as it went on; тАЬyour brotherтАЩs face is quite familiar to me. Can I have seen him abroad? Or at some public school, perhaps?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo,тАЭ she resumed, quite interested, тАЬhe has never been abroad yet, and was educated here, at home. Tom, love, I am telling Mr.┬аHarthouse that he never saw you abroad.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo such luck, sir,тАЭ said Tom. + 

There was little enough in him to brighten her face, for he was a sullen young fellow, and ungracious in his manner even to her. So much the greater must have been the solitude of her heart, and her need of someone on whom to bestow it. тАЬSo much the more is this whelp the only creature she has ever cared for,тАЭ thought Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, turning it over and over. тАЬSo much the more. So much the more.тАЭ + 

Both in his sisterтАЩs presence, and after she had left the room, the whelp took no pains to hide his contempt for Mr.┬аBounderby, whenever he could indulge it without the observation of that independent man, by making wry faces, or shutting one eye. Without responding to these telegraphic communications, Mr.┬аHarthouse encouraged him much in the course of the evening, and showed an unusual liking for him. At last, when he rose to return to his hotel, and was a little doubtful whether he knew the way by night, the whelp immediately proffered his services as guide, and turned out with him to escort him thither. + 

III + 

The Whelp + 

It was very remarkable that a young gentleman who had been brought up under one continuous system of unnatural restraint, should be a hypocrite; but it was certainly the case with Tom. It was very strange that a young gentleman who had never been left to his own guidance for five consecutive minutes, should be incapable at last of governing himself; but so it was with Tom. It was altogether unaccountable that a young gentleman whose imagination had been strangled in his cradle, should be still inconvenienced by its ghost in the form of grovelling sensualities; but such a monster, beyond all doubt, was Tom. + 

тАЬDo you smoke?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, when they came to the hotel. + 

тАЬI believe you!тАЭ said Tom. + 

He could do no less than ask Tom up; and Tom could do no less than go up. What with a cooling drink adapted to the weather, but not so weak as cool; and what with a rarer tobacco than was to be bought in those parts; Tom was soon in a highly free and easy state at his end of the sofa, and more than ever disposed to admire his new friend at the other end. + 

Tom blew his smoke aside, after he had been smoking a little while, and took an observation of his friend. тАЬHe donтАЩt seem to care about his dress,тАЭ thought Tom, тАЬand yet how capitally he does it. What an easy swell he is!тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, happening to catch TomтАЩs eye, remarked that he drank nothing, and filled his glass with his own negligent hand. + 

тАЬThankтАЩee,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬThankтАЩee. Well, Mr.┬аHarthouse, I hope you have had about a dose of old Bounderby tonight.тАЭ Tom said this with one eye shut up again, and looking over his glass knowingly, at his entertainer. + 

тАЬA very good fellow indeed!тАЭ returned Mr.┬аJames Harthouse. + 

тАЬYou think so, donтАЩt you?тАЭ said Tom. And shut up his eye again. + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse smiled; and rising from his end of the sofa, and lounging with his back against the chimneypiece, so that he stood before the empty fire-grate as he smoked, in front of Tom and looking down at him, observed: + 

тАЬWhat a comical brother-in-law you are!тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat a comical brother-in-law old Bounderby is, I think you mean,тАЭ said Tom. + 

тАЬYou are a piece of caustic, Tom,тАЭ retorted Mr.┬аJames Harthouse. + 

There was something so very agreeable in being so intimate with such a waistcoat; in being called Tom, in such an intimate way, by such a voice; in being on such offhand terms so soon, with such a pair of whiskers; that Tom was uncommonly pleased with himself. + 

тАЬOh! I donтАЩt care for old Bounderby,тАЭ said he, тАЬif you mean that. I have always called old Bounderby by the same name when I have talked about him, and I have always thought of him in the same way. I am not going to begin to be polite now, about old Bounderby. It would be rather late in the day.тАЭ + 

тАЬDonтАЩt mind me,тАЭ returned James; тАЬbut take care when his wife is by, you know.тАЭ + 

тАЬHis wife?тАЭ said Tom. тАЬMy sister Loo? O yes!тАЭ And he laughed, and took a little more of the cooling drink. + 

James Harthouse continued to lounge in the same place and attitude, smoking his cigar in his own easy way, and looking pleasantly at the whelp, as if he knew himself to be a kind of agreeable demon who had only to hover over him, and he must give up his whole soul if required. It certainly did seem that the whelp yielded to this influence. He looked at his companion sneakingly, he looked at him admiringly, he looked at him boldly, and put up one leg on the sofa. + 

тАЬMy sister Loo?тАЭ said Tom. тАЬShe never cared for old Bounderby.тАЭ + 

тАЬThatтАЩs the past tense, Tom,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, striking the ash from his cigar with his little finger. тАЬWe are in the present tense, now.тАЭ + 

тАЬVerb neuter, not to care. Indicative mood, present tense. First person singular, I do not care; second person singular, thou dost not care; third person singular, she does not care,тАЭ returned Tom. + 

тАЬGood! Very quaint!тАЭ said his friend. тАЬThough you donтАЩt mean it.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut I do mean it,тАЭ cried Tom. тАЬUpon my honour! Why, you wonтАЩt tell me, Mr.┬аHarthouse, that you really suppose my sister Loo does care for old Bounderby.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear fellow,тАЭ returned the other, тАЬwhat am I bound to suppose, when I find two married people living in harmony and happiness?тАЭ + 

Tom had by this time got both his legs on the sofa. If his second leg had not been already there when he was called a dear fellow, he would have put it up at that great stage of the conversation. Feeling it necessary to do something then, he stretched himself out at greater length, and, reclining with the back of his head on the end of the sofa, and smoking with an infinite assumption of negligence, turned his common face, and not too sober eyes, towards the face looking down upon him so carelessly yet so potently. + 

тАЬYou know our governor, Mr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬand therefore, you neednтАЩt be surprised that Loo married old Bounderby. She never had a lover, and the governor proposed old Bounderby, and she took him.тАЭ + 

тАЬVery dutiful in your interesting sister,тАЭ said Mr.┬аJames Harthouse. + 

тАЬYes, but she wouldnтАЩt have been as dutiful, and it would not have come off as easily,тАЭ returned the whelp, тАЬif it hadnтАЩt been for me.тАЭ + 

The tempter merely lifted his eyebrows; but the whelp was obliged to go on. + 

тАЬI persuaded her,тАЭ he said, with an edifying air of superiority. тАЬI was stuck into old BounderbyтАЩs bank (where I never wanted to be), and I knew I should get into scrapes there, if she put old BounderbyтАЩs pipe out; so I told her my wishes, and she came into them. She would do anything for me. It was very game of her, wasnтАЩt it?тАЭ + 

тАЬIt was charming, Tom!тАЭ + 

тАЬNot that it was altogether so important to her as it was to me,тАЭ continued Tom coolly, тАЬbecause my liberty and comfort, and perhaps my getting on, depended on it; and she had no other lover, and staying at home was like staying in jailтБатАФespecially when I was gone. It wasnтАЩt as if she gave up another lover for old Bounderby; but still it was a good thing in her.тАЭ + 

тАЬPerfectly delightful. And she gets on so placidly.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh,тАЭ returned Tom, with contemptuous patronage, тАЬsheтАЩs a regular girl. A girl can get on anywhere. She has settled down to the life, and she donтАЩt mind. It does just as well as another. Besides, though Loo is a girl, sheтАЩs not a common sort of girl. She can shut herself up within herself, and thinkтБатАФas I have often known her sit and watch the fireтБатАФfor an hour at a stretch.тАЭ + 

тАЬAy, ay? Has resources of her own,тАЭ said Harthouse, smoking quietly. + 

тАЬNot so much of that as you may suppose,тАЭ returned Tom; тАЬfor our governor had her crammed with all sorts of dry bones and sawdust. ItтАЩs his system.тАЭ + 

тАЬFormed his daughter on his own model?тАЭ suggested Harthouse. + 

тАЬHis daughter? Ah! and everybody else. Why, he formed me that way!тАЭ said Tom. + 

тАЬImpossible!тАЭ + 

тАЬHe did, though,тАЭ said Tom, shaking his head. тАЬI mean to say, Mr.┬аHarthouse, that when I first left home and went to old BounderbyтАЩs, I was as flat as a warming-pan, and knew no more about life, than any oyster does.тАЭ + 

тАЬCome, Tom! I can hardly believe that. A jokeтАЩs a joke.тАЭ + 

тАЬUpon my soul!тАЭ said the whelp. тАЬI am serious; I am indeed!тАЭ He smoked with great gravity and dignity for a little while, and then added, in a highly complacent tone, тАЬOh! I have picked up a little since. I donтАЩt deny that. But I have done it myself; no thanks to the governor.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd your intelligent sister?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy intelligent sister is about where she was. She used to complain to me that she had nothing to fall back upon, that girls usually fall back upon; and I donтАЩt see how she is to have got over that since. But she donтАЩt mind,тАЭ he sagaciously added, puffing at his cigar again. тАЬGirls can always get on, somehow.тАЭ + 

тАЬCalling at the bank yesterday evening, for Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs address, I found an ancient lady there, who seems to entertain great admiration for your sister,тАЭ observed Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, throwing away the last small remnant of the cigar he had now smoked out. + 

тАЬMother Sparsit!тАЭ said Tom. тАЬWhat! you have seen her already, have you?тАЭ + 

His friend nodded. Tom took his cigar out of his mouth, to shut up his eye (which had grown rather unmanageable) with the greater expression, and to tap his nose several times with his finger. + 

тАЬMother SparsitтАЩs feeling for Loo is more than admiration, I should think,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬSay affection and devotion. Mother Sparsit never set her cap at Bounderby when he was a bachelor. Oh no!тАЭ + 

These were the last words spoken by the whelp, before a giddy drowsiness came upon him, followed by complete oblivion. He was roused from the latter state by an uneasy dream of being stirred up with a boot, and also of a voice saying: тАЬCome, itтАЩs late. Be off!тАЭ + 

тАЬWell!тАЭ he said, scrambling from the sofa. тАЬI must take my leave of you though. I say. Yours is very good tobacco. But itтАЩs too mild.тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, itтАЩs too mild,тАЭ returned his entertainer. + 

тАЬItтАЩsтБатАФitтАЩs ridiculously mild,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬWhereтАЩs the door! Good night!тАЭ + 

He had another odd dream of being taken by a waiter through a mist, which, after giving him some trouble and difficulty, resolved itself into the main street, in which he stood alone. He then walked home pretty easily, though not yet free from an impression of the presence and influence of his new friendтБатАФas if he were lounging somewhere in the air, in the same negligent attitude, regarding him with the same look. + 

The whelp went home, and went to bed. If he had had any sense of what he had done that night, and had been less of a whelp and more of a brother, he might have turned short on the road, might have gone down to the ill-smelling river that was dyed black, might have gone to bed in it for good and all, and have curtained his head forever with its filthy waters. + 

IV + 

Men and Brothers + 

тАЬOh, my friends, the downtrodden operatives of Coketown! Oh, my friends and fellow-countrymen, the slaves of an iron-handed and a grinding despotism! Oh, my friends and fellow-sufferers, and fellow-workmen, and fellow-men! I tell you that the hour is come, when we must rally round one another as one united power, and crumble into dust the oppressors that too long have battened upon the plunder of our families, upon the sweat of our brows, upon the labour of our hands, upon the strength of our sinews, upon the God-created glorious rights of Humanity, and upon the holy and eternal privileges of Brotherhood!тАЭ + 

тАЬGood!тАЭ тАЬHear, hear, hear!тАЭ тАЬHurrah!тАЭ and other cries, arose in many voices from various parts of the densely crowded and suffocatingly close hall, in which the orator, perched on a stage, delivered himself of this and what other froth and fume he had in him. He had declaimed himself into a violent heat, and was as hoarse as he was hot. By dint of roaring at the top of his voice under a flaring gaslight, clenching his fists, knitting his brows, setting his teeth, and pounding with his arms, he had taken so much out of himself by this time, that he was brought to a stop, and called for a glass of water. + 

As he stood there, trying to quench his fiery face with his drink of water, the comparison between the orator and the crowd of attentive faces turned towards him, was extremely to his disadvantage. Judging him by NatureтАЩs evidence, he was above the mass in very little but the stage on which he stood. In many great respects he was essentially below them. He was not so honest, he was not so manly, he was not so good-humoured; he substituted cunning for their simplicity, and passion for their safe solid sense. An ill-made, high-shouldered man, with lowering brows, and his features crushed into an habitually sour expression, he contrasted most unfavourably, even in his mongrel dress, with the great body of his hearers in their plain working clothes. Strange as it always is to consider any assembly in the act of submissively resigning itself to the dreariness of some complacent person, lord or commoner, whom three-fourths of it could, by no human means, raise out of the slough of inanity to their own intellectual level, it was particularly strange, and it was even particularly affecting, to see this crowd of earnest faces, whose honesty in the main no competent observer free from bias could doubt, so agitated by such a leader. + 

Good! Hear, hear! Hurrah! The eagerness both of attention and intention, exhibited in all the countenances, made them a most impressive sight. There was no carelessness, no languor, no idle curiosity; none of the many shades of indifference to be seen in all other assemblies, visible for one moment there. That every man felt his condition to be, somehow or other, worse than it might be; that every man considered it incumbent on him to join the rest, towards the making of it better; that every man felt his only hope to be in his allying himself to the comrades by whom he was surrounded; and that in this belief, right or wrong (unhappily wrong then), the whole of that crowd were gravely, deeply, faithfully in earnest; must have been as plain to anyone who chose to see what was there, as the bare beams of the roof and the whitened brick walls. Nor could any such spectator fail to know in his own breast, that these men, through their very delusions, showed great qualities, susceptible of being turned to the happiest and best account; and that to pretend (on the strength of sweeping axioms, howsoever cut and dried) that they went astray wholly without cause, and of their own irrational wills, was to pretend that there could be smoke without fire, death without birth, harvest without seed, anything or everything produced from nothing. + 

The orator having refreshed himself, wiped his corrugated forehead from left to right several times with his handkerchief folded into a pad, and concentrated all his revived forces, in a sneer of great disdain and bitterness. + 

тАЬBut oh, my friends and brothers! Oh, men and Englishmen, the downtrodden operatives of Coketown! What shall we say of that manтБатАФthat workingman, that I should find it necessary so to libel the glorious nameтБатАФwho, being practically and well acquainted with the grievances and wrongs of you, the injured pith and marrow of this land, and having heard you, with a noble and majestic unanimity that will make tyrants tremble, resolve for to subscribe to the funds of the United Aggregate Tribunal, and to abide by the injunctions issued by that body for your benefit, whatever they may beтБатАФwhat, I ask you, will you say of that workingman, since such I must acknowledge him to be, who, at such a time, deserts his post, and sells his flag; who, at such a time, turns a traitor and a craven and a recreant, who, at such a time, is not ashamed to make to you the dastardly and humiliating avowal that he will hold himself aloof, and will not be one of those associated in the gallant stand for Freedom and for Right?тАЭ + 

The assembly was divided at this point. There were some groans and hisses, but the general sense of honour was much too strong for the condemnation of a man unheard. тАЬBe sure youтАЩre right, Slackbridge!тАЭ тАЬPut him up!тАЭ тАЬLetтАЩs hear him!тАЭ Such things were said on many sides. Finally, one strong voice called out, тАЬIs the man heer? If the manтАЩs heer, Slackbridge, letтАЩs hear the man himseln, тАЩstead oтАЩ yo.тАЭ Which was received with a round of applause. + 

Slackbridge, the orator, looked about him with a withering smile; and, holding out his right hand at armтАЩs length (as the manner of all Slackbridges is), to still the thundering sea, waited until there was a profound silence. + 

тАЬOh, my friends and fellow-men!тАЭ said Slackbridge then, shaking his head with violent scorn, тАЬI do not wonder that you, the prostrate sons of labour, are incredulous of the existence of such a man. But he who sold his birthright for a mess of pottage existed, and Judas Iscariot existed, and Castlereagh existed, and this man exists!тАЭ + 

Here, a brief press and confusion near the stage, ended in the man himself standing at the oratorтАЩs side before the concourse. He was pale and a little moved in the faceтБатАФhis lips especially showed it; but he stood quiet, with his left hand at his chin, waiting to be heard. There was a chairman to regulate the proceedings, and this functionary now took the case into his own hands. + 

тАЬMy friends,тАЭ said he, тАЬby virtue oтАЩ my office as your president, I askes oтАЩ our friend Slackbridge, who may be a little over hetter in this business, to take his seat, whiles this man Stephen Blackpool is heern. You all know this man Stephen Blackpool. You know him awlung oтАЩ his misfortтАЩns, and his good name.тАЭ + 

With that, the chairman shook him frankly by the hand, and sat down again. Slackbridge likewise sat down, wiping his hot foreheadтБатАФalways from left to right, and never the reverse way. + 

тАЬMy friends,тАЭ Stephen began, in the midst of a dead calm; тАЬI haтАЩ hed whatтАЩs been spokтАЩn oтАЩ me, and тАЩtis lickly that I shanтАЩt mend it. But IтАЩd liefer youтАЩd hearn the truth concernin myseln, fro my lips than fro onny other manтАЩs, though I never cudтАЩn speak afore so monny, wiтАЩout bein moydert and muddled.тАЭ + 

Slackbridge shook his head as if he would shake it off, in his bitterness. + 

тАЬIтАЩm thтАЩ one single hand in BounderbyтАЩs mill, oтАЩ aтАЩ the men theer, as donтАЩt coom in wiтАЩ thтАЩ proposed regтАЩlations. I canna coom in wiтАЩ тАЩem. My friends, I doubt their doinтАЩ yo onny good. Licker theyтАЩll do yo hurt.тАЭ + 

Slackbridge laughed, folded his arms, and frowned sarcastically. + 

тАЬBut тАЩt anтАЩt sommuch for that as I stands out. If that were aw, IтАЩd coom in wiтАЩ thтАЩ rest. But I haтАЩ my reasonsтБатАФmine, yo seeтБатАФfor being hindered; not onтАЩy now, but awlusтБатАФawlusтБатАФlife long!тАЭ + 

Slackbridge jumped up and stood beside him, gnashing and tearing. тАЬOh, my friends, what but this did I tell you? Oh, my fellow-countrymen, what warning but this did I give you? And how shows this recreant conduct in a man on whom unequal laws are known to have fallen heavy? Oh, you Englishmen, I ask you how does this subornation show in one of yourselves, who is thus consenting to his own undoing and to yours, and to your childrenтАЩs and your childrenтАЩs childrenтАЩs?тАЭ + 

There was some applause, and some crying of Shame upon the man; but the greater part of the audience were quiet. They looked at StephenтАЩs worn face, rendered more pathetic by the homely emotions it evinced; and, in the kindness of their nature, they were more sorry than indignant. + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTis this DelegateтАЩs trade for tтАЩ speak,тАЭ said Stephen, тАЬanтАЩ heтАЩs paid for тАЩt, anтАЩ he knows his work. Let him keep to тАЩt. Let him give no heed to what I ha hadтАЩn to bear. ThatтАЩs not for him. ThatтАЩs not for nobbody but me.тАЭ + 

There was a propriety, not to say a dignity in these words, that made the hearers yet more quiet and attentive. The same strong voice called out, тАЬSlackbridge, let the man be heern, and howd thee tongue!тАЭ Then the place was wonderfully still. + 

тАЬMy brothers,тАЭ said Stephen, whose low voice was distinctly heard, тАЬand my fellow-workmenтБатАФfor that yo are to me, though not, as I knows on, to this delegate hereтБатАФI ha but a word to sen, and I could sen nommore if I was to speak till strike oтАЩ day. I know weel, aw whatтАЩs afore me. I know weel that yo aw resolve to ha nommore ado wiтАЩ a man who is not wiтАЩ yo in this matther. I know weel that if I was a lyin parisht iтАЩ thтАЩ road, yoтАЩd feel it right to pass me by, as a forrenner and stranger. What I ha getn, I mun mak thтАЩ best on.тАЭ + 

тАЬStephen Blackpool,тАЭ said the chairman, rising, тАЬthink on тАЩt agen. Think on тАЩt once agen, lad, afore thouтАЩrt shunned by aw owd friends.тАЭ + 

There was an universal murmur to the same effect, though no man articulated a word. Every eye was fixed on StephenтАЩs face. To repent of his determination, would be to take a load from all their minds. He looked around him, and knew that it was so. Not a grain of anger with them was in his heart; he knew them, far below their surface weaknesses and misconceptions, as no one but their fellow-labourer could. + 

тАЬI ha thowt on тАЩt, above a bit, sir. I simply canna coom in. I mun go thтАЩ way as lays afore me. I mun tak my leave oтАЩ aw heer.тАЭ + 

He made a sort of reverence to them by holding up his arms, and stood for the moment in that attitude; not speaking until they slowly dropped at his sides. + 

тАЬMonnyтАЩs the pleasant word as soom heer has spokтАЩn wiтАЩ me; monnyтАЩs the face I see heer, as I first seen when I were yoong and lighter heartтАЩn than now. I haтАЩ never had no fratch afore, sin ever I were born, wiтАЩ any oтАЩ my like; Gonnows I haтАЩ none now thatтАЩs oтАЩ my makinтАЩ. YoтАЩll caтАЩ me traitor and thatтБатАФyo I mean tтАЩ say,тАЭ addressing Slackbridge, тАЬbut тАЩtis easier to caтАЩ than makтАЩ out. So let be.тАЭ + 

He had moved away a pace or two to come down from the platform, when he remembered something he had not said, and returned again. + 

тАЬHaply,тАЭ he said, turning his furrowed face slowly about, that he might as it were individually address the whole audience, those both near and distant; тАЬhaply, when this question has been takтАЩn up and discoosed, thereтАЩll be a threat to turn out if IтАЩm let to work among yo. I hope I shall die ere ever such a time cooms, and I shall work solitary among yo unless it coomsтБатАФtruly, I mun do тАЩt, my friends; not to brave yo, but to live. I ha nobbut work to live by; and wheerever can I go, I who ha worked sin I were no heighth at aw, in Coketown heer? I makтАЩ no complaints oтАЩ bein turned to the waтАЩ, oтАЩ bein outcasten and overlooken fro this time forrard, but hope I shall be let to work. If there is any right for me at aw, my friends, I think тАЩtis that.тАЭ + 

Not a word was spoken. Not a sound was audible in the building, but the slight rustle of men moving a little apart, all along the centre of the room, to open a means of passing out, to the man with whom they had all bound themselves to renounce companionship. Looking at no one, and going his way with a lowly steadiness upon him that asserted nothing and sought nothing, Old Stephen, with all his troubles on his head, left the scene. + 

Then Slackbridge, who had kept his oratorical arm extended during the going out, as if he were repressing with infinite solicitude and by a wonderful moral power the vehement passions of the multitude, applied himself to raising their spirits. Had not the Roman Brutus, oh, my British countrymen, condemned his son to death; and had not the Spartan mothers, oh my soon to be victorious friends, driven their flying children on the points of their enemiesтАЩ swords? Then was it not the sacred duty of the men of Coketown, with forefathers before them, an admiring world in company with them, and a posterity to come after them, to hurl out traitors from the tents they had pitched in a sacred and a Godlike cause? The winds of heaven answered Yes; and bore Yes, east, west, north, and south. And consequently three cheers for the United Aggregate Tribunal! + 

Slackbridge acted as fugleman, and gave the time. The multitude of doubtful faces (a little conscience-stricken) brightened at the sound, and took it up. Private feeling must yield to the common cause. Hurrah! The roof yet vibrated with the cheering, when the assembly dispersed. + 

Thus easily did Stephen Blackpool fall into the loneliest of lives, the life of solitude among a familiar crowd. The stranger in the land who looks into ten thousand faces for some answering look and never finds it, is in cheering society as compared with him who passes ten averted faces daily, that were once the countenances of friends. Such experience was to be StephenтАЩs now, in every waking moment of his life; at his work, on his way to it and from it, at his door, at his window, everywhere. By general consent, they even avoided that side of the street on which he habitually walked; and left it, of all the working men, to him only. + 

He had been for many years, a quiet silent man, associating but little with other men, and used to companionship with his own thoughts. He had never known before the strength of the want in his heart for the frequent recognition of a nod, a look, a word; or the immense amount of relief that had been poured into it by drops through such small means. It was even harder than he could have believed possible, to separate in his own conscience his abandonment by all his fellows from a baseless sense of shame and disgrace. + 

The first four days of his endurance were days so long and heavy, that he began to be appalled by the prospect before him. Not only did he see no Rachael all the time, but he avoided every chance of seeing her; for, although he knew that the prohibition did not yet formally extend to the women working in the factories, he found that some of them with whom he was acquainted were changed to him, and he feared to try others, and dreaded that Rachael might be even singled out from the rest if she were seen in his company. So, he had been quite alone during the four days, and had spoken to no one, when, as he was leaving his work at night, a young man of a very light complexion accosted him in the street. + 

тАЬYour nameтАЩs Blackpool, ainтАЩt it?тАЭ said the young man. + 

Stephen coloured to find himself with his hat in his hand, in his gratitude for being spoken to, or in the suddenness of it, or both. He made a feint of adjusting the lining, and said, тАЬYes.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are the hand they have sent to Coventry, I mean?тАЭ said Bitzer, the very light young man in question. + 

Stephen answered тАЬYes,тАЭ again. + 

тАЬI supposed so, from their all appearing to keep away from you. Mr.┬аBounderby wants to speak to you. You know his house, donтАЩt you?тАЭ + 

Stephen said тАЬYes,тАЭ again. + 

тАЬThen go straight up there, will you?тАЭ said Bitzer. тАЬYouтАЩre expected, and have only to tell the servant itтАЩs you. I belong to the Bank; so, if you go straight up without me (I was sent to fetch you), youтАЩll save me a walk.тАЭ + 

Stephen, whose way had been in the contrary direction, turned about, and betook himself as in duty bound, to the red brick castle of the giant Bounderby. + 

V + 

Men and Masters + 

тАЬWell, Stephen,тАЭ said Bounderby, in his windy manner, тАЬwhatтАЩs this I hear? What have these pests of the earth been doing to you? Come in, and speak up.тАЭ + 

It was into the drawing-room that he was thus bidden. A tea-table was set out; and Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs young wife, and her brother, and a great gentleman from London, were present. To whom Stephen made his obeisance, closing the door and standing near it, with his hat in his hand. + 

тАЬThis is the man I was telling you about, Harthouse,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. The gentleman he addressed, who was talking to Mrs.┬аBounderby on the sofa, got up, saying in an indolent way, тАЬOh really?тАЭ and dawdled to the hearthrug where Mr.┬аBounderby stood. + 

тАЬNow,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬspeak up!тАЭ + 

After the four days he had passed, this address fell rudely and discordantly on StephenтАЩs ear. Besides being a rough handling of his wounded mind, it seemed to assume that he really was the self-interested deserter he had been called. + 

тАЬWhat were it, sir,тАЭ said Stephen, тАЬas yo were pleased to want wiтАЩ me?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, I have told you,тАЭ returned Bounderby. тАЬSpeak up like a man, since you are a man, and tell us about yourself and this Combination.тАЭ + 

тАЬWiтАЩ yor pardon, sir,тАЭ said Stephen Blackpool, тАЬI haтАЩ nowt to sen about it.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, who was always more or less like a wind, finding something in his way here, began to blow at it directly. + 

тАЬNow, look here, Harthouse,тАЭ said he, тАЬhereтАЩs a specimen of тАЩem. When this man was here once before, I warned this man against the mischievous strangers who are always aboutтБатАФand who ought to be hanged wherever they are foundтБатАФand I told this man that he was going in the wrong direction. Now, would you believe it, that although they have put this mark upon him, he is such a slave to them still, that heтАЩs afraid to open his lips about them?тАЭ + 

тАЬI sed as I had nowt to sen, sir; not as I was fearfoтАЩ oтАЩ openinтАЩ my lips.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou said! Ah! I know what you said; more than that, I know what you mean, you see. Not always the same thing, by the Lord Harry! Quite different things. You had better tell us at once, that that fellow Slackbridge is not in the town, stirring up the people to mutiny; and that he is not a regular qualified leader of the people: that is, a most confounded scoundrel. You had better tell us so at once; you canтАЩt deceive me. You want to tell us so. Why donтАЩt you?тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩm as sooary as yo, sir, when the peopleтАЩs leaders is bad,тАЭ said Stephen, shaking his head. тАЬThey taks such as offers. Haply тАЩtis naтАЩ the smaтАЩest oтАЩ their misfortuns when they can get no better.тАЭ + 

The wind began to get boisterous. + 

тАЬNow, youтАЩll think this pretty well, Harthouse,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬYouтАЩll think this tolerably strong. YouтАЩll say, upon my soul this is a tidy specimen of what my friends have to deal with; but this is nothing, sir! You shall hear me ask this man a question. Pray, Mr.┬аBlackpoolтАЭтБатАФwind springing up very fastтБатАФтАЬmay I take the liberty of asking you how it happens that you refused to be in this Combination?тАЭ + 

тАЬHow тАЩt happens?тАЭ + 

тАЬAh!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, with his thumbs in the arms of his coat, and jerking his head and shutting his eyes in confidence with the opposite wall: тАЬhow it happens.тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩd leefer not coom to тАЩt, sir; but sin you put thтАЩ questionтБатАФanтАЩ not wantтАЩn tтАЩ be ill-mannerтАЩnтБатАФIтАЩll answer. I ha passed a promess.тАЭ + 

тАЬNot to me, you know,тАЭ said Bounderby. (Gusty weather with deceitful calms. One now prevailing.) + 

тАЬO no, sir. Not to yo.тАЭ + 

тАЬAs for me, any consideration for me has had just nothing at all to do with it,тАЭ said Bounderby, still in confidence with the wall. тАЬIf only Josiah Bounderby of Coketown had been in question, you would have joined and made no bones about it?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy yes, sir. тАЩTis true.тАЭ + 

тАЬThough he knows,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, now blowing a gale, тАЬthat there are a set of rascals and rebels whom transportation is too good for! Now, Mr.┬аHarthouse, you have been knocking about in the world some time. Did you ever meet with anything like that man out of this blessed country?тАЭ And Mr.┬аBounderby pointed him out for inspection, with an angry finger. + 

тАЬNay, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Stephen Blackpool, staunchly protesting against the words that had been used, and instinctively addressing himself to Louisa, after glancing at her face. тАЬNot rebels, nor yet rascals. Nowt oтАЩ thтАЩ kind, maтАЩam, nowt oтАЩ thтАЩ kind. TheyтАЩve not doon me a kindness, maтАЩam, as I know and feel. But thereтАЩs not a dozen men amoong тАЩem, maтАЩamтБатАФa dozen? Not sixтБатАФbut what believes as he has doon his duty by the rest and by himseln. God forbid as I, that haтАЩ known, and hadтАЩn experience oтАЩ these men aw my lifeтБатАФI, that haтАЩ ettтАЩn anтАЩ droonken wiтАЩ тАЩem, anтАЩ seetтАЩn wiтАЩ тАЩem, and toilтАЩn wiтАЩ тАЩem, and lovтАЩn тАЩem, should fail fur to stan by тАЩem wiтАЩ the truth, let тАЩem haтАЩ doon to me what they may!тАЭ + 

He spoke with the rugged earnestness of his place and characterтБатАФdeepened perhaps by a proud consciousness that he was faithful to his class under all their mistrust; but he fully remembered where he was, and did not even raise his voice. + 

тАЬNo, maтАЩam, no. TheyтАЩre true to one another, faithfoтАЩ to one another, тАЩfectionate to one another, eтАЩen to death. Be poor amoong тАЩem, be sick amoong тАЩem, grieve amoong тАЩem for onny oтАЩ thтАЩ monny causes that carries grief to the poor manтАЩs door, anтАЩ theyтАЩll be tender wiтАЩ yo, gentle wiтАЩ yo, comfortable wiтАЩ yo, Chrisen wiтАЩ yo. Be sure oтАЩ that, maтАЩam. TheyтАЩd be riven to bits, ere ever theyтАЩd be different.тАЭ + 

тАЬIn short,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬitтАЩs because they are so full of virtues that they have turned you adrift. Go through with it while you are about it. Out with it.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow тАЩtis, maтАЩam,тАЭ resumed Stephen, appearing still to find his natural refuge in LouisaтАЩs face, тАЬthat what is best in us fok, seems to turn us most to trouble anтАЩ misfortтАЩn anтАЩ mistake, I dunno. But тАЩtis so. I know тАЩtis, as I know the heavens is over me ahint the smoke. WeтАЩre patient too, anтАЩ wants in general to do right. AnтАЩ I canna think the fawt is aw wiтАЩ us.тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, my friend,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, whom he could not have exasperated more, quite unconscious of it though he was, than by seeming to appeal to anyone else, тАЬif you will favour me with your attention for half a minute, I should like to have a word or two with you. You said just now, that you had nothing to tell us about this business. You are quite sure of that before we go any further.тАЭ + 

тАЬSir, I am sure on тАЩt.тАЭ + 

тАЬHereтАЩs a gentleman from London present,тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby made a backhanded point at Mr.┬аJames Harthouse with his thumb, тАЬa Parliament gentleman. I should like him to hear a short bit of dialogue between you and me, instead of taking the substance of itтБатАФfor I know precious well, beforehand, what it will be; nobody knows better than I do, take notice!тБатАФinstead of receiving it on trust from my mouth.тАЭ + 

Stephen bent his head to the gentleman from London, and showed a rather more troubled mind than usual. He turned his eyes involuntarily to his former refuge, but at a look from that quarter (expressive though instantaneous) he settled them on Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs face. + 

тАЬNow, what do you complain of?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аBounderby. + 

тАЬI haтАЩ not coom here, sir,тАЭ Stephen reminded him, тАЬto complain. I coom for that I were sent for.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat,тАЭ repeated Mr.┬аBounderby, folding his arms, тАЬdo you people, in a general way, complain of?тАЭ + 

Stephen looked at him with some little irresolution for a moment, and then seemed to make up his mind. + 

тАЬSir, I were never good at showinтАЩ oтАЩ тАЩt, though I ha hadтАЩn my share in feeling oтАЩ тАЩt. тАЩDeed we are in a muddle, sir. Look round townтБатАФso rich as тАЩtisтБатАФand see the numbers oтАЩ people as has been broughten into bein heer, fur to weave, anтАЩ to card, anтАЩ to piece out a livinтАЩ, aw the same one way, somehows, тАЩtwixt their cradles and their graves. Look how we live, anтАЩ wheer we live, anтАЩ in what numbers, anтАЩ by what chances, and wiтАЩ what sameness; and look how the mills is awlus a goin, and how they never works us no nigher to ony disтАЩant objectтБатАФceptin awlus, Death. Look how you considers of us, and writes of us, and talks of us, and goes up wiтАЩ yor deputations to Secretaries oтАЩ State тАЩbout us, and how yo are awlus right, and how we are awlus wrong, and never hadтАЩn no reason in us sin ever we were born. Look how this ha growen anтАЩ growen, sir, bigger anтАЩ bigger, broader anтАЩ broader, harder anтАЩ harder, fro year to year, fro generation unto generation. Who can look on тАЩt, sir, and fairly tell a man тАЩtis not a muddle?тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬNow perhaps youтАЩll let the gentleman know, how you would set this muddle (as youтАЩre so fond of calling it) to rights.тАЭ + 

тАЬI donno, sir. I canna be expecten to тАЩt. тАЩTis not me as should be looken to for that, sir. тАЩTis them as is put ower me, and ower aw the rest of us. What do they tak upon themseln, sir, if not to doтАЩt?тАЭ + 

тАЬIтАЩll tell you something towards it, at any rate,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬWe will make an example of half a dozen Slackbridges. WeтАЩll indict the blackguards for felony, and get тАЩem shipped off to penal settlements.тАЭ + 

Stephen gravely shook his head. + 

тАЬDonтАЩt tell me we wonтАЩt, man,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, by this time blowing a hurricane, тАЬbecause we will, I tell you!тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ returned Stephen, with the quiet confidence of absolute certainty, тАЬif yo was tтАЩ tak a hundred SlackbridgesтБатАФaw as there is, and aw the number ten times towdтБатАФanтАЩ was tтАЩ sew тАЩem up in separate sacks, anтАЩ sink тАЩem in the deepest ocean as were made ere ever dry land coom to be, yoтАЩd leave the muddle just wheer тАЩtis. Mischeevous strangers!тАЭ said Stephen, with an anxious smile; тАЬwhen ha we not heern, I am sure, sin ever we can call to mind, oтАЩ thтАЩ mischeevous strangers! тАЩTis not by them the troubleтАЩs made, sir. тАЩTis not wiтАЩ them тАЩt commences. I ha no favour for тАЩemтБатАФI ha no reason to favour тАЩemтБатАФbut тАЩtis hopeless and useless to dream oтАЩ takin them fro their trade, тАЩstead oтАЩ takin their trade fro them! Aw thatтАЩs now about me in this room were heer afore I coom, anтАЩ will be heer when I am gone. Put that clock aboard a ship anтАЩ pack it off to Norfolk Island, anтАЩ the time will go on just the same. So тАЩtis wiтАЩ Slackbridge every bit.тАЭ + 

Reverting for a moment to his former refuge, he observed a cautionary movement of her eyes towards the door. Stepping back, he put his hand upon the lock. But he had not spoken out of his own will and desire; and he felt it in his heart a noble return for his late injurious treatment to be faithful to the last to those who had repudiated him. He stayed to finish what was in his mind. + 

тАЬSir, I canna, wiтАЩ my little learning anтАЩ my common way, tell the genelman what will better aw thisтБатАФthough some working men oтАЩ this town could, above my powersтБатАФbut I can tell him what I know will never do тАЩt. The strong hand will never do тАЩt. VictтАЩry and triumph will never do тАЩt. Agreeing fur to mak one side unnatтАЩrally awlus and forever right, and toother side unnatтАЩrally awlus and forever wrong, will never, never do тАЩt. Nor yet lettin alone will never do тАЩt. Let thousands upon thousands alone, aw leading the like lives and aw fawтАЩen into the like muddle, and they will be as one, and yo will be as anoother, wiтАЩ a black unpassable world betwixt yo, just as long or short a time as sich-like misery can last. Not drawin nigh to fok, wiтАЩ kindness and patience anтАЩ cheery ways, that so draws nigh to one another in their monny troubles, and so cherishes one another in their distresses wiтАЩ what they need themselnтБатАФlike, I humbly believe, as no people the genelman ha seen in aw his travels can beatтБатАФwill never do тАЩt till thтАЩ Sun turns tтАЩ ice. Most oтАЩ aw, rating тАЩem as so much power, and regтАЩlatin тАЩem as if they was figures in a soom, or machines: wiтАЩout loves and likens, wiтАЩout memories and inclinations, wiтАЩout souls to weary and souls to hopeтБатАФwhen aw goes quiet, draggin on wiтАЩ тАЩem as if theyтАЩd nowt oтАЩ thтАЩ kind, and when aw goes onquiet, reproachin тАЩem for their want oтАЩ sitch humanly feelins in their dealins wiтАЩ yoтБатАФthis will never do тАЩt, sir, till GodтАЩs work is onmade.тАЭ + 

Stephen stood with the open door in his hand, waiting to know if anything more were expected of him. + 

тАЬJust stop a moment,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, excessively red in the face. тАЬI told you, the last time you were here with a grievance, that you had better turn about and come out of that. And I also told you, if you remember, that I was up to the gold spoon lookout.тАЭ + 

тАЬI were not up to тАЩt myseln, sir; I do assure yo.тАЭ + 

тАЬNow itтАЩs clear to me,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬthat you are one of those chaps who have always got a grievance. And you go about, sowing it and raising crops. ThatтАЩs the business of your life, my friend.тАЭ + 

Stephen shook his head, mutely protesting that indeed he had other business to do for his life. + 

тАЬYou are such a waspish, raspish, ill-conditioned chap, you see,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬthat even your own Union, the men who know you best, will have nothing to do with you. I never thought those fellows could be right in anything; but I tell you what! I so far go along with them for a novelty, that IтАЩll have nothing to do with you either.тАЭ + 

Stephen raised his eyes quickly to his face. + 

тАЬYou can finish off what youтАЩre at,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, with a meaning nod, тАЬand then go elsewhere.тАЭ + 

тАЬSir, yo know weel,тАЭ said Stephen expressively, тАЬthat if I canna get work wiтАЩ yo, I canna get it elsewheer.тАЭ + 

The reply was, тАЬWhat I know, I know; and what you know, you know. I have no more to say about it.тАЭ + 

Stephen glanced at Louisa again, but her eyes were raised to his no more; therefore, with a sigh, and saying, barely above his breath, тАЬHeaven help us aw in this world!тАЭ he departed. + 

VI + 

Fading Away + 

It was falling dark when Stephen came out of Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs house. The shadows of night had gathered so fast, that he did not look about him when he closed the door, but plodded straight along the street. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the curious old woman he had encountered on his previous visit to the same house, when he heard a step behind him that he knew, and turning, saw her in RachaelтАЩs company. + 

He saw Rachael first, as he had heard her only. + 

тАЬAh, Rachael, my dear! Missus, thou wiтАЩ her!тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, and now you are surprised to be sure, and with reason I must say,тАЭ the old woman returned. тАЬHere I am again, you see.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut how wiтАЩ Rachael?тАЭ said Stephen, falling into their step, walking between them, and looking from the one to the other. + 

тАЬWhy, I come to be with this good lass pretty much as I came to be with you,тАЭ said the old woman, cheerfully, taking the reply upon herself. тАЬMy visiting time is later this year than usual, for I have been rather troubled with shortness of breath, and so put it off till the weather was fine and warm. For the same reason I donтАЩt make all my journey in one day, but divide it into two days, and get a bed tonight at the TravellersтАЩ Coffee House down by the railroad (a nice clean house), and go back Parliamentary, at six in the morning. Well, but what has this to do with this good lass, says you? IтАЩm going to tell you. I have heard of Mr.┬аBounderby being married. I read it in the paper, where it looked grandтБатАФoh, it looked fine!тАЭ the old woman dwelt on it with strange enthusiasm: тАЬand I want to see his wife. I have never seen her yet. Now, if youтАЩll believe me, she hasnтАЩt come out of that house since noon today. So not to give her up too easily, I was waiting about, a little last bit more, when I passed close to this good lass two or three times; and her face being so friendly I spoke to her, and she spoke to me. There!тАЭ said the old woman to Stephen, тАЬyou can make all the rest out for yourself now, a deal shorter than I can, I dare say!тАЭ + 

Once again, Stephen had to conquer an instinctive propensity to dislike this old woman, though her manner was as honest and simple as a manner possibly could be. With a gentleness that was as natural to him as he knew it to be to Rachael, he pursued the subject that interested her in her old age. + 

тАЬWell, missus,тАЭ said he, тАЬI ha seen the lady, and she were young and hansom. WiтАЩ fine dark thinkin eyes, and a still way, Rachael, as I ha never seen the like on.тАЭ + 

тАЬYoung and handsome. Yes!тАЭ cried the old woman, quite delighted. тАЬAs bonny as a rose! And what a happy wife!тАЭ + 

тАЬAye, missus, I suppose she be,тАЭ said Stephen. But with a doubtful glance at Rachael. + 

тАЬSuppose she be? She must be. SheтАЩs your masterтАЩs wife,тАЭ returned the old woman. + 

Stephen nodded assent. тАЬThough as to master,тАЭ said he, glancing again at Rachael, тАЬnot master onny more. ThatтАЩs aw enden тАЩtwixt him and me.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave you left his work, Stephen?тАЭ asked Rachael, anxiously and quickly. + 

тАЬWhy, Rachael,тАЭ he replied, тАЬwhether I ha lefтАЩn his work, or whether his work ha lefтАЩn me, cooms tтАЩ thтАЩ same. His work and me are parted. тАЩTis as weel soтБатАФbetter, I were thinkin when yo coom up wiтАЩ me. It would ha broughtтАЩn trouble upon trouble if I had stayed theer. Haply тАЩtis a kindness to monny that I go; haply тАЩtis a kindness to myseln; anyways it mun be done. I mun turn my face fro Coketown fur thтАЩ time, and seek a fortтАЩn, dear, by beginnin fresh.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere will you go, Stephen?тАЭ + 

тАЬI donno tтАЩnight,тАЭ said he, lifting off his hat, and smoothing his thin hair with the flat of his hand. тАЬBut IтАЩm not goin tтАЩnight, Rachael, nor yet tтАЩmorrow. тАЩTanтАЩt easy overmuch tтАЩ know wheer tтАЩ turn, but a good heart will coom to me.тАЭ + 

Herein, too, the sense of even thinking unselfishly aided him. Before he had so much as closed Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs door, he had reflected that at least his being obliged to go away was good for her, as it would save her from the chance of being brought into question for not withdrawing from him. Though it would cost him a hard pang to leave her, and though he could think of no similar place in which his condemnation would not pursue him, perhaps it was almost a relief to be forced away from the endurance of the last four days, even to unknown difficulties and distresses. + 

So he said, with truth, тАЬIтАЩm more leetsome, Rachael, under тАЩt, than I couldтАЩn ha believed.тАЭ It was not her part to make his burden heavier. She answered with her comforting smile, and the three walked on together. + 

Age, especially when it strives to be self-reliant and cheerful, finds much consideration among the poor. The old woman was so decent and contented, and made so light of her infirmities, though they had increased upon her since her former interview with Stephen, that they both took an interest in her. She was too sprightly to allow of their walking at a slow pace on her account, but she was very grateful to be talked to, and very willing to talk to any extent: so, when they came to their part of the town, she was more brisk and vivacious than ever. + 

тАЬCome to my poor place, missus,тАЭ said Stephen, тАЬand tak a coop oтАЩ tea. Rachael will coom then; and arterwards IтАЩll see thee safe tтАЩ thy TravellersтАЩ lodgin. тАЩT may be long, Rachael, ere ever I ha thтАЩ chance oтАЩ thy coompany agen.тАЭ + 

They complied, and the three went on to the house where he lodged. When they turned into a narrow street, Stephen glanced at his window with a dread that always haunted his desolate home; but it was open, as he had left it, and no one was there. The evil spirit of his life had flitted away again, months ago, and he had heard no more of her since. The only evidence of her last return now, were the scantier moveables in his room, and the grayer hair upon his head. + 

He lighted a candle, set out his little teaboard, got hot water from below, and brought in small portions of tea and sugar, a loaf, and some butter from the nearest shop. The bread was new and crusty, the butter fresh, and the sugar lump, of courseтБатАФin fulfilment of the standard testimony of the Coketown magnates, that these people lived like princes, sir. Rachael made the tea (so large a party necessitated the borrowing of a cup), and the visitor enjoyed it mightily. It was the first glimpse of sociality the host had had for many days. He too, with the world a wide heath before him, enjoyed the mealтБатАФagain in corroboration of the magnates, as exemplifying the utter want of calculation on the part of these people, sir. + 

тАЬI ha never thowt yet, missus,тАЭ said Stephen, тАЬoтАЩ askin thy name.тАЭ + 

The old lady announced herself as тАЬMrs.┬аPegler.тАЭ + 

тАЬA widder, I think?тАЭ said Stephen. + 

тАЬOh, many long years!тАЭ Mrs.┬аPeglerтАЩs husband (one of the best on record) was already dead, by Mrs.┬аPeglerтАЩs calculation, when Stephen was born. + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTwere a bad job, too, to lose so good a one,тАЭ said Stephen. тАЬOnny children?тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аPeglerтАЩs cup, rattling against her saucer as she held it, denoted some nervousness on her part. тАЬNo,тАЭ she said. тАЬNot now, not now.тАЭ + 

тАЬDead, Stephen,тАЭ Rachael softly hinted. + 

тАЬIтАЩm sooary I ha spokтАЩn on тАЩt,тАЭ said Stephen, тАЬI ought tтАЩ hadn in my mind as I might touch a sore place. IтБатАФI blame myseln.тАЭ + 

While he excused himself, the old ladyтАЩs cup rattled more and more. тАЬI had a son,тАЭ she said, curiously distressed, and not by any of the usual appearances of sorrow; тАЬand he did well, wonderfully well. But he is not to be spoken of if you please. He isтБатАФтАЭ Putting down her cup, she moved her hands as if she would have added, by her action, тАЬdead!тАЭ Then she said aloud, тАЬI have lost him.тАЭ + 

Stephen had not yet got the better of his having given the old lady pain, when his landlady came stumbling up the narrow stairs, and calling him to the door, whispered in his ear. Mrs.┬аPegler was by no means deaf, for she caught a word as it was uttered. + 

тАЬBounderby!тАЭ she cried, in a suppressed voice, starting up from the table. тАЬOh hide me! DonтАЩt let me be seen for the world. DonтАЩt let him come up till IтАЩve got away. Pray, pray!тАЭ She trembled, and was excessively agitated; getting behind Rachael, when Rachael tried to reassure her; and not seeming to know what she was about. + 

тАЬBut hearken, missus, hearken,тАЭ said Stephen, astonished. тАЬтАКтАЩTisnтАЩt Mr.┬аBounderby; тАЩtis his wife. YoтАЩr not fearfoтАЩ oтАЩ her. Yo was hey-go-mad about her, but an hour sin.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut are you sure itтАЩs the lady, and not the gentleman?тАЭ she asked, still trembling. + 

тАЬCertain sure!тАЭ + 

тАЬWell then, pray donтАЩt speak to me, nor yet take any notice of me,тАЭ said the old woman. тАЬLet me be quite to myself in this corner.тАЭ + 

Stephen nodded; looking to Rachael for an explanation, which she was quite unable to give him; took the candle, went downstairs, and in a few moments returned, lighting Louisa into the room. She was followed by the whelp. + 

Rachael had risen, and stood apart with her shawl and bonnet in her hand, when Stephen, himself profoundly astonished by this visit, put the candle on the table. Then he too stood, with his doubled hand upon the table near it, waiting to be addressed. + 

For the first time in her life Louisa had come into one of the dwellings of the Coketown hands; for the first time in her life she was face to face with anything like individuality in connection with them. She knew of their existence by hundreds and by thousands. She knew what results in work a given number of them would produce in a given space of time. She knew them in crowds passing to and from their nests, like ants or beetles. But she knew from her reading infinitely more of the ways of toiling insects than of these toiling men and women. + 

Something to be worked so much and paid so much, and there ended; something to be infallibly settled by laws of supply and demand; something that blundered against those laws, and floundered into difficulty; something that was a little pinched when wheat was dear, and over-ate itself when wheat was cheap; something that increased at such a rate of percentage, and yielded such another percentage of crime, and such another percentage of pauperism; something wholesale, of which vast fortunes were made; something that occasionally rose like a sea, and did some harm and waste (chiefly to itself), and fell again; this she knew the Coketown hands to be. But, she had scarcely thought more of separating them into units, than of separating the sea itself into its component drops. + 

She stood for some moments looking round the room. From the few chairs, the few books, the common prints, and the bed, she glanced to the two women, and to Stephen. + 

тАЬI have come to speak to you, in consequence of what passed just now. I should like to be serviceable to you, if you will let me. Is this your wife?тАЭ + 

Rachael raised her eyes, and they sufficiently answered no, and dropped again. + 

тАЬI remember,тАЭ said Louisa, reddening at her mistake; тАЬI recollect, now, to have heard your domestic misfortunes spoken of, though I was not attending to the particulars at the time. It was not my meaning to ask a question that would give pain to anyone here. If I should ask any other question that may happen to have that result, give me credit, if you please, for being in ignorance how to speak to you as I ought.тАЭ + 

As Stephen had but a little while ago instinctively addressed himself to her, so she now instinctively addressed herself to Rachael. Her manner was short and abrupt, yet faltering and timid. + 

тАЬHe has told you what has passed between himself and my husband? You would be his first resource, I think.тАЭ + 

тАЬI have heard the end of it, young lady,тАЭ said Rachael. + 

тАЬDid I understand, that, being rejected by one employer, he would probably be rejected by all? I thought he said as much?тАЭ + 

тАЬThe chances are very small, young ladyтБатАФnext to nothingтБатАФfor a man who gets a bad name among them.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat shall I understand that you mean by a bad name?тАЭ + 

тАЬThe name of being troublesome.тАЭ + 

тАЬThen, by the prejudices of his own class, and by the prejudices of the other, he is sacrificed alike? Are the two so deeply separated in this town, that there is no place whatever for an honest workman between them?тАЭ + 

Rachael shook her head in silence. + 

тАЬHe fell into suspicion,тАЭ said Louisa, тАЬwith his fellow-weavers, becauseтБатАФhe had made a promise not to be one of them. I think it must have been to you that he made that promise. Might I ask you why he made it?тАЭ + 

Rachael burst into tears. тАЬI didnтАЩt seek it of him, poor lad. I prayed him to avoid trouble for his own good, little thinking heтАЩd come to it through me. But I know heтАЩd die a hundred deaths, ere ever heтАЩd break his word. I know that of him well.тАЭ + 

Stephen had remained quietly attentive, in his usual thoughtful attitude, with his hand at his chin. He now spoke in a voice rather less steady than usual. + 

тАЬNo one, excepting myseln, can ever know what honour, anтАЩ what love, anтАЩ respect, I bear to Rachael, or wiтАЩ what cause. When I passed that promess, I towd her true, she were thтАЩ Angel oтАЩ my life. тАЩTwere a solemn promess. тАЩTis gone froтАЩ me, forever.тАЭ + 

Louisa turned her head to him, and bent it with a deference that was new in her. She looked from him to Rachael, and her features softened. тАЬWhat will you do?тАЭ she asked him. And her voice had softened too. + 

тАЬWeel, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Stephen, making the best of it, with a smile; тАЬwhen I ha finished off, I mun quit this part, and try another. Fortnet or misfortnet, a man can but try; thereтАЩs nowt to be done wiтАЩout tryinтАЩтБатАФcept laying down and dying.тАЭ + 

тАЬHow will you travel?тАЭ + 

тАЬAfoot, my kind ledy, afoot.тАЭ + 

Louisa coloured, and a purse appeared in her hand. The rustling of a banknote was audible, as she unfolded one and laid it on the table. + 

тАЬRachael, will you tell himтБатАФfor you know how, without offenceтБатАФthat this is freely his, to help him on his way? Will you entreat him to take it?тАЭ + 

тАЬI canna do that, young lady,тАЭ she answered, turning her head aside. тАЬBless you for thinking oтАЩ the poor lad wiтАЩ such tenderness. But тАЩtis for him to know his heart, and what is right according to it.тАЭ + 

Louisa looked, in part incredulous, in part frightened, in part overcome with quick sympathy, when this man of so much self-command, who had been so plain and steady through the late interview, lost his composure in a moment, and now stood with his hand before his face. She stretched out hers, as if she would have touched him; then checked herself, and remained still. + 

тАЬNot eтАЩen Rachael,тАЭ said Stephen, when he stood again with his face uncovered, тАЬcould mak sitch a kind offerin, by onny words, kinder. TтАЩ show that IтАЩm not a man wiтАЩout reason and gratitude, IтАЩll tak two pound. IтАЩll borrow тАЩt for tтАЩ pay тАЩt back. тАЩTwill be the sweetest work as ever I ha done, that puts it in my power tтАЩ acknowledge once more my lastin thankfulness for this present action.тАЭ + 

She was fain to take up the note again, and to substitute the much smaller sum he had named. He was neither courtly, nor handsome, nor picturesque, in any respect; and yet his manner of accepting it, and of expressing his thanks without more words, had a grace in it that Lord Chesterfield could not have taught his son in a century. + 

Tom had sat upon the bed, swinging one leg and sucking his walking-stick with sufficient unconcern, until the visit had attained this stage. Seeing his sister ready to depart, he got up, rather hurriedly, and put in a word. + 

тАЬJust wait a moment, Loo! Before we go, I should like to speak to him a moment. Something comes into my head. If youтАЩll step out on the stairs, Blackpool, IтАЩll mention it. Never mind a light, man!тАЭ Tom was remarkably impatient of his moving towards the cupboard, to get one. тАЬIt donтАЩt want a light.тАЭ + 

Stephen followed him out, and Tom closed the room door, and held the lock in his hand. + 

тАЬI say!тАЭ he whispered. тАЬI think I can do you a good turn. DonтАЩt ask me what it is, because it may not come to anything. But thereтАЩs no harm in my trying.тАЭ + 

His breath fell like a flame of fire on StephenтАЩs ear, it was so hot. + 

тАЬThat was our light porter at the Bank,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬwho brought you the message tonight. I call him our light porter, because I belong to the Bank too.тАЭ + 

Stephen thought, тАЬWhat a hurry he is in!тАЭ He spoke so confusedly. + 

тАЬWell!тАЭ said Tom. тАЬNow look here! When are you off?тАЭ + 

тАЬTтАЩ dayтАЩs Monday,тАЭ replied Stephen, considering. тАЬWhy, sir, Friday or Saturday, nigh тАЩbout.тАЭ + 

тАЬFriday or Saturday,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬNow look here! I am not sure that I can do you the good turn I want to do youтБатАФthatтАЩs my sister, you know, in your roomтБатАФbut I may be able to, and if I should not be able to, thereтАЩs no harm done. So I tell you what. YouтАЩll know our light porter again?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sure,тАЭ said Stephen. + 

тАЬVery well,тАЭ returned Tom. тАЬWhen you leave work of a night, between this and your going away, just hang about the Bank an hour or so, will you? DonтАЩt take on, as if you meant anything, if he should see you hanging about there; because I shanтАЩt put him up to speak to you, unless I find I can do you the service I want to do you. In that case heтАЩll have a note or a message for you, but not else. Now look here! You are sure you understand.тАЭ + 

He had wormed a finger, in the darkness, through a buttonhole of StephenтАЩs coat, and was screwing that corner of the garment tight up round and round, in an extraordinary manner. + 

тАЬI understand, sir,тАЭ said Stephen. + 

тАЬNow look here!тАЭ repeated Tom. тАЬBe sure you donтАЩt make any mistake then, and donтАЩt forget. I shall tell my sister as we go home, what I have in view, and sheтАЩll approve, I know. Now look here! YouтАЩre all right, are you? You understand all about it? Very well then. Come along, Loo!тАЭ + 

He pushed the door open as he called to her, but did not return into the room, or wait to be lighted down the narrow stairs. He was at the bottom when she began to descend, and was in the street before she could take his arm. + 

Mrs.┬аPegler remained in her corner until the brother and sister were gone, and until Stephen came back with the candle in his hand. She was in a state of inexpressible admiration of Mrs.┬аBounderby, and, like an unaccountable old woman, wept, тАЬbecause she was such a pretty dear.тАЭ Yet Mrs.┬аPegler was so flurried lest the object of her admiration should return by chance, or anybody else should come, that her cheerfulness was ended for that night. It was late too, to people who rose early and worked hard; therefore the party broke up; and Stephen and Rachael escorted their mysterious acquaintance to the door of the TravellersтАЩ Coffee House, where they parted from her. + 

They walked back together to the corner of the street where Rachael lived, and as they drew nearer and nearer to it, silence crept upon them. When they came to the dark corner where their unfrequent meetings always ended, they stopped, still silent, as if both were afraid to speak. + 

тАЬI shall strive tтАЩ see thee agen, Rachael, afore I go, but if notтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬThou wilt not, Stephen, I know. тАЩTis better that we make up our minds to be open wiтАЩ one another.тАЭ + 

тАЬThouтАЩrt awlus right. тАЩTis bolder and better. I ha been thinkin then, Rachael, that as тАЩtis but a day or two that remains, тАЩtwere better for thee, my dear, not tтАЩ be seen wiтАЩ me. тАЩT might bring thee into trouble, fur no good.тАЭ + 

тАЬтАКтАЩTis not for that, Stephen, that I mind. But thou knowтАЩst our old agreement. тАЩTis for that.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, well,тАЭ said he. тАЬтАКтАЩTis better, onnyways.тАЭ + 

тАЬThouтАЩlt write to me, and tell me all that happens, Stephen?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes. What can I say now, but Heaven be wiтАЩ thee, Heaven bless thee, Heaven thank thee and reward thee!тАЭ + 

тАЬMay it bless thee, Stephen, too, in all thy wanderings, and send thee peace and rest at last!тАЭ + 

тАЬI towd thee, my dear,тАЭ said Stephen BlackpoolтБатАФтАЬthat nightтБатАФthat I would never see or think oтАЩ onnything that angered me, but thou, so much better than me, shouldтАЩst be beside it. ThouтАЩrt beside it now. Thou makтАЩst me see it wiтАЩ a better eye. Bless thee. Good night. Goodbye!тАЭ + 

It was but a hurried parting in a common street, yet it was a sacred remembrance to these two common people. Utilitarian economists, skeletons of schoolmasters, Commissioners of Fact, genteel and used-up infidels, gabblers of many little dogтАЩs-eared creeds, the poor you will have always with you. Cultivate in them, while there is yet time, the utmost graces of the fancies and affections, to adorn their lives so much in need of ornament; or, in the day of your triumph, when romance is utterly driven out of their souls, and they and a bare existence stand face to face, Reality will take a wolfish turn, and make an end of you. + 

Stephen worked the next day, and the next, uncheered by a word from anyone, and shunned in all his comings and goings as before. At the end of the second day, he saw land; at the end of the third, his loom stood empty. + 

He had overstayed his hour in the street outside the Bank, on each of the two first evenings; and nothing had happened there, good or bad. That he might not be remiss in his part of the engagement, he resolved to wait full two hours, on this third and last night. + 

There was the lady who had once kept Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs house, sitting at the first-floor window as he had seen her before; and there was the light porter, sometimes talking with her there, and sometimes looking over the blind below which had Bank upon it, and sometimes coming to the door and standing on the steps for a breath of air. When he first came out, Stephen thought he might be looking for him, and passed near; but the light porter only cast his winking eyes upon him slightly, and said nothing. + 

Two hours were a long stretch of lounging about, after a long dayтАЩs labour. Stephen sat upon the step of a door, leaned against a wall under an archway, strolled up and down, listened for the church clock, stopped and watched children playing in the street. Some purpose or other is so natural to everyone, that a mere loiterer always looks and feels remarkable. When the first hour was out, Stephen even began to have an uncomfortable sensation upon him of being for the time a disreputable character. + 

Then came the lamplighter, and two lengthening lines of light all down the long perspective of the street, until they were blended and lost in the distance. Mrs.┬аSparsit closed the first-floor window, drew down the blind, and went upstairs. Presently, a light went upstairs after her, passing first the fanlight of the door, and afterwards the two staircase windows, on its way up. By and by, one corner of the second-floor blind was disturbed, as if Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs eye were there; also the other corner, as if the light porterтАЩs eye were on that side. Still, no communication was made to Stephen. Much relieved when the two hours were at last accomplished, he went away at a quick pace, as a recompense for so much loitering. + 

He had only to take leave of his landlady, and lie down on his temporary bed upon the floor; for his bundle was made up for tomorrow, and all was arranged for his departure. He meant to be clear of the town very early; before the hands were in the streets. + 

It was barely daybreak, when, with a parting look round his room, mournfully wondering whether he should ever see it again, he went out. The town was as entirely deserted as if the inhabitants had abandoned it, rather than hold communication with him. Everything looked wan at that hour. Even the coming sun made but a pale waste in the sky, like a sad sea. + 

By the place where Rachael lived, though it was not in his way; by the red brick streets; by the great silent factories, not trembling yet; by the railway, where the danger-lights were waning in the strengthening day; by the railwayтАЩs crazy neighbourhood, half pulled down and half built up; by scattered red brick villas, where the besmoked evergreens were sprinkled with a dirty powder, like untidy snuff-takers; by coal-dust paths and many varieties of ugliness; Stephen got to the top of the hill, and looked back. + 

Day was shining radiantly upon the town then, and the bells were going for the morning work. Domestic fires were not yet lighted, and the high chimneys had the sky to themselves. Puffing out their poisonous volumes, they would not be long in hiding it; but, for half an hour, some of the many windows were golden, which showed the Coketown people a sun eternally in eclipse, through a medium of smoked glass. + 

So strange to turn from the chimneys to the birds. So strange, to have the road-dust on his feet instead of the coal-grit. So strange to have lived to his time of life, and yet to be beginning like a boy this summer morning! With these musings in his mind, and his bundle under his arm, Stephen took his attentive face along the high road. And the trees arched over him, whispering that he left a true and loving heart behind. + 

VII + 

Gunpowder + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, тАЬgoing inтАЭ for his adopted party, soon began to score. With the aid of a little more coaching for the political sages, a little more genteel listlessness for the general society, and a tolerable management of the assumed honesty in dishonesty, most effective and most patronized of the polite deadly sins, he speedily came to be considered of much promise. The not being troubled with earnestness was a grand point in his favour, enabling him to take to the hard Fact fellows with as good a grace as if he had been born one of the tribe, and to throw all other tribes overboard, as conscious hypocrites. + 

тАЬWhom none of us believe, my dear Mrs.┬аBounderby, and who do not believe themselves. The only difference between us and the professors of virtue or benevolence, or philanthropyтБатАФnever mind the nameтБатАФis, that we know it is all meaningless, and say so; while they know it equally and will never say so.тАЭ + 

Why should she be shocked or warned by this reiteration? It was not so unlike her fatherтАЩs principles, and her early training, that it need startle her. Where was the great difference between the two schools, when each chained her down to material realities, and inspired her with no faith in anything else? What was there in her soul for James Harthouse to destroy, which Thomas Gradgrind had nurtured there in its state of innocence! + 

It was even the worse for her at this pass, that in her mindтБатАФimplanted there before her eminently practical father began to form itтБатАФa struggling disposition to believe in a wider and nobler humanity than she had ever heard of, constantly strove with doubts and resentments. With doubts, because the aspiration had been so laid waste in her youth. With resentments, because of the wrong that had been done her, if it were indeed a whisper of the truth. Upon a nature long accustomed to self-suppression, thus torn and divided, the Harthouse philosophy came as a relief and justification. Everything being hollow and worthless, she had missed nothing and sacrificed nothing. What did it matter, she had said to her father, when he proposed her husband. What did it matter, she said still. With a scornful self-reliance, she asked herself, What did anything matterтБатАФand went on. + 

Towards what? Step by step, onward and downward, towards some end, yet so gradually, that she believed herself to remain motionless. As to Mr.┬аHarthouse, whither he tended, he neither considered nor cared. He had no particular design or plan before him: no energetic wickedness ruffled his lassitude. He was as much amused and interested, at present, as it became so fine a gentleman to be; perhaps even more than it would have been consistent with his reputation to confess. Soon after his arrival he languidly wrote to his brother, the honourable and jocular member, that the Bounderbys were тАЬgreat fun;тАЭ and further, that the female Bounderby, instead of being the Gorgon he had expected, was young, and remarkably pretty. After that, he wrote no more about them, and devoted his leisure chiefly to their house. He was very often in their house, in his flittings and visitings about the Coketown district; and was much encouraged by Mr.┬аBounderby. It was quite in Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs gusty way to boast to all his world that he didnтАЩt care about your highly connected people, but that if his wife Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter did, she was welcome to their company. + 

Mr.┬аJames Harthouse began to think it would be a new sensation, if the face which changed so beautifully for the whelp, would change for him. + 

He was quick enough to observe; he had a good memory, and did not forget a word of the brotherтАЩs revelations. He interwove them with everything he saw of the sister, and he began to understand her. To be sure, the better and profounder part of her character was not within his scope of perception; for in natures, as in seas, depth answers unto depth; but he soon began to read the rest with a studentтАЩs eye. + 

Mr.┬аBounderby had taken possession of a house and grounds, about fifteen miles from the town, and accessible within a mile or two, by a railway striding on many arches over a wild country, undermined by deserted coal-shafts, and spotted at night by fires and black shapes of stationary engines at pitsтАЩ mouths. This country, gradually softening towards the neighbourhood of Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs retreat, there mellowed into a rustic landscape, golden with heath, and snowy with hawthorn in the spring of the year, and tremulous with leaves and their shadows all the summer time. The bank had foreclosed a mortgage effected on the property thus pleasantly situated, by one of the Coketown magnates, who, in his determination to make a shorter cut than usual to an enormous fortune, overspeculated himself by about two hundred thousand pounds. These accidents did sometimes happen in the best regulated families of Coketown, but the bankrupts had no connection whatever with the improvident classes. + 

It afforded Mr.┬аBounderby supreme satisfaction to instal himself in this snug little estate, and with demonstrative humility to grow cabbages in the flower-garden. He delighted to live, barrack-fashion, among the elegant furniture, and he bullied the very pictures with his origin. тАЬWhy, sir,тАЭ he would say to a visitor, тАЬI am told that Nickits,тАЭ the late owner, тАЬgave seven hundred pound for that Seabeach. Now, to be plain with you, if I ever, in the whole course of my life, take seven looks at it, at a hundred pound a look, it will be as much as I shall do. No, by George! I donтАЩt forget that I am Josiah Bounderby of Coketown. For years upon years, the only pictures in my possession, or that I could have got into my possession, by any means, unless I stole тАЩem, were the engravings of a man shaving himself in a boot, on the blacking bottles that I was overjoyed to use in cleaning boots with, and that I sold when they were empty for a farthing apiece, and glad to get it!тАЭ + 

Then he would address Mr.┬аHarthouse in the same style. + 

тАЬHarthouse, you have a couple of horses down here. Bring half a dozen more if you like, and weтАЩll find room for тАЩem. ThereтАЩs stabling in this place for a dozen horses; and unless Nickits is belied, he kept the full number. A round dozen of тАЩem, sir. When that man was a boy, he went to Westminster School. Went to Westminster School as a KingтАЩs Scholar, when I was principally living on garbage, and sleeping in market baskets. Why, if I wanted to keep a dozen horsesтБатАФwhich I donтАЩt, for oneтАЩs enough for meтБатАФI couldnтАЩt bear to see тАЩem in their stalls here, and think what my own lodging used to be. I couldnтАЩt look at тАЩem, sir, and not order тАЩem out. Yet so things come round. You see this place; you know what sort of a place it is; you are aware that thereтАЩs not a completer place of its size in this kingdom or elsewhereтБатАФI donтАЩt care whereтБатАФand here, got into the middle of it, like a maggot into a nut, is Josiah Bounderby. While Nickits (as a man came into my office, and told me yesterday), Nickits, who used to act in Latin, in the Westminster School plays, with the chief-justices and nobility of this country applauding him till they were black in the face, is drivelling at this minuteтБатАФdrivelling, sir!тБатАФin a fifth floor, up a narrow dark back street in Antwerp.тАЭ + 

It was among the leafy shadows of this retirement, in the long sultry summer days, that Mr.┬аHarthouse began to prove the face which had set him wondering when he first saw it, and to try if it would change for him. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby, I esteem it a most fortunate accident that I find you alone here. I have for some time had a particular wish to speak to you.тАЭ + 

It was not by any wonderful accident that he found her, the time of day being that at which she was always alone, and the place being her favourite resort. It was an opening in a dark wood, where some felled trees lay, and where she would sit watching the fallen leaves of last year, as she had watched the falling ashes at home. + 

He sat down beside her, with a glance at her face. + 

тАЬYour brother. My young friend TomтБатАФтАЭ + 

Her colour brightened, and she turned to him with a look of interest. тАЬI never in my life,тАЭ he thought, тАЬsaw anything so remarkable and so captivating as the lighting of those features!тАЭ His face betrayed his thoughtsтБатАФperhaps without betraying him, for it might have been according to its instructions so to do. + 

тАЬPardon me. The expression of your sisterly interest is so beautifulтБатАФTom should be so proud of itтБатАФI know this is inexcusable, but I am so compelled to admire.тАЭ + 

тАЬBeing so impulsive,тАЭ she said composedly. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby, no: you know I make no pretence with you. You know I am a sordid piece of human nature, ready to sell myself at any time for any reasonable sum, and altogether incapable of any Arcadian proceeding whatever.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am waiting,тАЭ she returned, тАЬfor your further reference to my brother.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are rigid with me, and I deserve it. I am as worthless a dog as you will find, except that I am not falseтБатАФnot false. But you surprised and started me from my subject, which was your brother. I have an interest in him.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave you an interest in anything, Mr.┬аHarthouse?тАЭ she asked, half incredulously and half gratefully. + 

тАЬIf you had asked me when I first came here, I should have said no. I must say nowтБатАФeven at the hazard of appearing to make a pretence, and of justly awakening your incredulityтБатАФyes.тАЭ + 

She made a slight movement, as if she were trying to speak, but could not find voice; at length she said, тАЬMr.┬аHarthouse, I give you credit for being interested in my brother.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you. I claim to deserve it. You know how little I do claim, but I will go that length. You have done so much for him, you are so fond of him; your whole life, Mrs.┬аBounderby, expresses such charming self-forgetfulness on his accountтБатАФpardon me againтБатАФI am running wide of the subject. I am interested in him for his own sake.тАЭ + 

She had made the slightest action possible, as if she would have risen in a hurry and gone away. He had turned the course of what he said at that instant, and she remained. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby,тАЭ he resumed, in a lighter manner, and yet with a show of effort in assuming it, which was even more expressive than the manner he dismissed; тАЬit is no irrevocable offence in a young fellow of your brotherтАЩs years, if he is heedless, inconsiderate, and expensiveтБатАФa little dissipated, in the common phrase. Is he?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes.тАЭ + 

тАЬAllow me to be frank. Do you think he games at all?тАЭ + 

тАЬI think he makes bets.тАЭ Mr.┬аHarthouse waiting, as if that were not her whole answer, she added, тАЬI know he does.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course he loses?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes.тАЭ + 

тАЬEverybody does lose who bets. May I hint at the probability of your sometimes supplying him with money for these purposes?тАЭ + 

She sat, looking down; but, at this question, raised her eyes searchingly and a little resentfully. + 

тАЬAcquit me of impertinent curiosity, my dear Mrs.┬аBounderby. I think Tom may be gradually falling into trouble, and I wish to stretch out a helping hand to him from the depths of my wicked experience.тБатАФShall I say again, for his sake? Is that necessary?тАЭ + 

She seemed to try to answer, but nothing came of it. + 

тАЬCandidly to confess everything that has occurred to me,тАЭ said James Harthouse, again gliding with the same appearance of effort into his more airy manner; тАЬI will confide to you my doubt whether he has had many advantages. WhetherтБатАФforgive my plainnessтБатАФwhether any great amount of confidence is likely to have been established between himself and his most worthy father.тАЭ + 

тАЬI do not,тАЭ said Louisa, flushing with her own great remembrance in that wise, тАЬthink it likely.тАЭ + 

тАЬOr, between himself, andтБатАФI may trust to your perfect understanding of my meaning, I am sureтБатАФand his highly esteemed brother-in-law.тАЭ + 

She flushed deeper and deeper, and was burning red when she replied in a fainter voice, тАЬI do not think that likely, either.тАЭ + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby,тАЭ said Harthouse, after a short silence, тАЬmay there be a better confidence between yourself and me? Tom has borrowed a considerable sum of you?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou will understand, Mr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ she returned, after some indecision: she had been more or less uncertain, and troubled throughout the conversation, and yet had in the main preserved her self-contained manner; тАЬyou will understand that if I tell you what you press to know, it is not by way of complaint or regret. I would never complain of anything, and what I have done I do not in the least regret.тАЭ + 

тАЬSo spirited, too!тАЭ thought James Harthouse. + 

тАЬWhen I married, I found that my brother was even at that time heavily in debt. Heavily for him, I mean. Heavily enough to oblige me to sell some trinkets. They were no sacrifice. I sold them very willingly. I attached no value to them. They, were quite worthless to me.тАЭ + 

Either she saw in his face that he knew, or she only feared in her conscience that he knew, that she spoke of some of her husbandтАЩs gifts. She stopped, and reddened again. If he had not known it before, he would have known it then, though he had been a much duller man than he was. + 

тАЬSince then, I have given my brother, at various times, what money I could spare: in short, what money I have had. Confiding in you at all, on the faith of the interest you profess for him, I will not do so by halves. Since you have been in the habit of visiting here, he has wanted in one sum as much as a hundred pounds. I have not been able to give it to him. I have felt uneasy for the consequences of his being so involved, but I have kept these secrets until now, when I trust them to your honour. I have held no confidence with anyone, becauseтБатАФyou anticipated my reason just now.тАЭ She abruptly broke off. + 

He was a ready man, and he saw, and seized, an opportunity here of presenting her own image to her, slightly disguised as her brother. + 

тАЬMrs.┬аBounderby, though a graceless person, of the world worldly, I feel the utmost interest, I assure you, in what you tell me. I cannot possibly be hard upon your brother. I understand and share the wise consideration with which you regard his errors. With all possible respect both for Mr.┬аGradgrind and for Mr.┬аBounderby, I think I perceive that he has not been fortunate in his training. Bred at a disadvantage towards the society in which he has his part to play, he rushes into these extremes for himself, from opposite extremes that have long been forcedтБатАФwith the very best intentions we have no doubtтБатАФupon him. Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs fine bluff English independence, though a most charming characteristic, does notтБатАФas we have agreedтБатАФinvite confidence. If I might venture to remark that it is the least in the world deficient in that delicacy to which a youth mistaken, a character misconceived, and abilities misdirected, would turn for relief and guidance, I should express what it presents to my own view.тАЭ + 

As she sat looking straight before her, across the changing lights upon the grass into the darkness of the wood beyond, he saw in her face her application of his very distinctly uttered words. + 

тАЬAll allowance,тАЭ he continued, тАЬmust be made. I have one great fault to find with Tom, however, which I cannot forgive, and for which I take him heavily to account.тАЭ + 

Louisa turned her eyes to his face, and asked him what fault was that? + 

тАЬPerhaps,тАЭ he returned, тАЬI have said enough. Perhaps it would have been better, on the whole, if no allusion to it had escaped me.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou alarm me, Mr.┬аHarthouse. Pray let me know it.тАЭ + 

тАЬTo relieve you from needless apprehensionтБатАФand as this confidence regarding your brother, which I prize I am sure above all possible things, has been established between usтБатАФI obey. I cannot forgive him for not being more sensible in every word, look, and act of his life, of the affection of his best friend; of the devotion of his best friend; of her unselfishness; of her sacrifice. The return he makes her, within my observation, is a very poor one. What she has done for him demands his constant love and gratitude, not his ill-humour and caprice. Careless fellow as I am, I am not so indifferent, Mrs.┬аBounderby, as to be regardless of this vice in your brother, or inclined to consider it a venial offence.тАЭ + 

The wood floated before her, for her eyes were suffused with tears. They rose from a deep well, long concealed, and her heart was filled with acute pain that found no relief in them. + 

тАЬIn a word, it is to correct your brother in this, Mrs.┬аBounderby, that I must aspire. My better knowledge of his circumstances, and my direction and advice in extricating themтБатАФrather valuable, I hope, as coming from a scapegrace on a much larger scaleтБатАФwill give me some influence over him, and all I gain I shall certainly use towards this end. I have said enough, and more than enough. I seem to be protesting that I am a sort of good fellow, when, upon my honour, I have not the least intention to make any protestation to that effect, and openly announce that I am nothing of the sort. Yonder, among the trees,тАЭ he added, having lifted up his eyes and looked about; for he had watched her closely until now; тАЬis your brother himself; no doubt, just come down. As he seems to be loitering in this direction, it may be as well, perhaps, to walk towards him, and throw ourselves in his way. He has been very silent and doleful of late. Perhaps, his brotherly conscience is touchedтБатАФif there are such things as consciences. Though, upon my honour, I hear of them much too often to believe in them.тАЭ + 

He assisted her to rise, and she took his arm, and they advanced to meet the whelp. He was idly beating the branches as he lounged along: or he stooped viciously to rip the moss from the trees with his stick. He was startled when they came upon him while he was engaged in this latter pastime, and his colour changed. + 

тАЬHalloa!тАЭ he stammered; тАЬI didnтАЩt know you were here.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhose name, Tom,тАЭ said Mr.┬аHarthouse, putting his hand upon his shoulder and turning him, so that they all three walked towards the house together, тАЬhave you been carving on the trees?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhose name?тАЭ returned Tom. тАЬOh! You mean what girlтАЩs name?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou have a suspicious appearance of inscribing some fair creatureтАЩs on the bark, Tom.тАЭ + 

тАЬNot much of that, Mr.┬аHarthouse, unless some fair creature with a slashing fortune at her own disposal would take a fancy to me. Or she might be as ugly as she was rich, without any fear of losing me. IтАЩd carve her name as often as she liked.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am afraid you are mercenary, Tom.тАЭ + 

тАЬMercenary,тАЭ repeated Tom. тАЬWho is not mercenary? Ask my sister.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave you so proved it to be a failing of mine, Tom?тАЭ said Louisa, showing no other sense of his discontent and ill-nature. + 

тАЬYou know whether the cap fits you, Loo,тАЭ returned her brother sulkily. тАЬIf it does, you can wear it.тАЭ + 

тАЬTom is misanthropical today, as all bored people are now and then,тАЭ said Mr.┬аHarthouse. тАЬDonтАЩt believe him, Mrs.┬аBounderby. He knows much better. I shall disclose some of his opinions of you, privately expressed to me, unless he relents a little.тАЭ + 

тАЬAt all events, Mr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ said Tom, softening in his admiration of his patron, but shaking his head sullenly too, тАЬyou canтАЩt tell her that I ever praised her for being mercenary. I may have praised her for being the contrary, and I should do it again, if I had as good reason. However, never mind this now; itтАЩs not very interesting to you, and I am sick of the subject.тАЭ + 

They walked on to the house, where Louisa quitted her visitorтАЩs arm and went in. He stood looking after her, as she ascended the steps, and passed into the shadow of the door; then put his hand upon her brotherтАЩs shoulder again, and invited him with a confidential nod to a walk in the garden. + 

тАЬTom, my fine fellow, I want to have a word with you.тАЭ + 

They had stopped among a disorder of rosesтБатАФit was part of Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs humility to keep NickitsтАЩs roses on a reduced scaleтБатАФand Tom sat down on a terrace-parapet, plucking buds and picking them to pieces; while his powerful familiar stood over him, with a foot upon the parapet, and his figure easily resting on the arm supported by that knee. They were just visible from her window. Perhaps she saw them. + 

тАЬTom, whatтАЩs the matter?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! Mr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ said Tom with a groan, тАЬI am hard up, and bothered out of my life.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy good fellow, so am I.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou!тАЭ returned Tom. тАЬYou are the picture of independence. Mr.┬аHarthouse, I am in a horrible mess. You have no idea what a state I have got myself intoтБатАФwhat a state my sister might have got me out of, if she would only have done it.тАЭ + 

He took to biting the rosebuds now, and tearing them away from his teeth with a hand that trembled like an infirm old manтАЩs. After one exceedingly observant look at him, his companion relapsed into his lightest air. + 

тАЬTom, you are inconsiderate: you expect too much of your sister. You have had money of her, you dog, you know you have.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, Mr.┬аHarthouse, I know I have. How else was I to get it? HereтАЩs old Bounderby always boasting that at my age he lived upon twopence a month, or something of that sort. HereтАЩs my father drawing what he calls a line, and tying me down to it from a baby, neck and heels. HereтАЩs my mother who never has anything of her own, except her complaints. What is a fellow to do for money, and where am I to look for it, if not to my sister?тАЭ + 

He was almost crying, and scattered the buds about by dozens. Mr.┬аHarthouse took him persuasively by the coat. + 

тАЬBut, my dear Tom, if your sister has not got itтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬNot got it, Mr.┬аHarthouse? I donтАЩt say she has got it. I may have wanted more than she was likely to have got. But then she ought to get it. She could get it. ItтАЩs of no use pretending to make a secret of matters now, after what I have told you already; you know she didnтАЩt marry old Bounderby for her own sake, or for his sake, but for my sake. Then why doesnтАЩt she get what I want, out of him, for my sake? She is not obliged to say what she is going to do with it; she is sharp enough; she could manage to coax it out of him, if she chose. Then why doesnтАЩt she choose, when I tell her of what consequence it is? But no. There she sits in his company like a stone, instead of making herself agreeable and getting it easily. I donтАЩt know what you may call this, but I call it unnatural conduct.тАЭ + 

There was a piece of ornamental water immediately below the parapet, on the other side, into which Mr.┬аJames Harthouse had a very strong inclination to pitch Mr.┬аThomas Gradgrind Junior, as the injured men of Coketown threatened to pitch their property into the Atlantic. But he preserved his easy attitude; and nothing more solid went over the stone balustrades than the accumulated rosebuds now floating about, a little surface-island. + 

тАЬMy dear Tom,тАЭ said Harthouse, тАЬlet me try to be your banker.тАЭ + 

тАЬFor GodтАЩs sake,тАЭ replied Tom, suddenly, тАЬdonтАЩt talk about bankers!тАЭ And very white he looked, in contrast with the roses. Very white. + 

Mr.┬аHarthouse, as a thoroughly well-bred man, accustomed to the best society, was not to be surprisedтБатАФhe could as soon have been affectedтБатАФbut he raised his eyelids a little more, as if they were lifted by a feeble touch of wonder. Albeit it was as much against the precepts of his school to wonder, as it was against the doctrines of the Gradgrind College. + 

тАЬWhat is the present need, Tom? Three figures? Out with them. Say what they are.тАЭ + 

тАЬMr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ returned Tom, now actually crying; and his tears were better than his injuries, however pitiful a figure he made: тАЬitтАЩs too late; the money is of no use to me at present. I should have had it before to be of use to me. But I am very much obliged to you; youтАЩre a true friend.тАЭ + 

A true friend! тАЬWhelp, whelp!тАЭ thought Mr.┬аHarthouse, lazily; тАЬwhat an ass you are!тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd I take your offer as a great kindness,тАЭ said Tom, grasping his hand. тАЬAs a great kindness, Mr.┬аHarthouse.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell,тАЭ returned the other, тАЬit may be of more use by and by. And, my good fellow, if you will open your bedevilments to me when they come thick upon you, I may show you better ways out of them than you can find for yourself.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you,тАЭ said Tom, shaking his head dismally, and chewing rosebuds. тАЬI wish I had known you sooner, Mr.┬аHarthouse.тАЭ + 

тАЬNow, you see, Tom,тАЭ said Mr.┬аHarthouse in conclusion, himself tossing over a rose or two, as a contribution to the island, which was always drifting to the wall as if it wanted to become a part of the mainland: тАЬevery man is selfish in everything he does, and I am exactly like the rest of my fellow-creatures. I am desperately intent;тАЭ the languor of his desperation being quite tropical; тАЬon your softening towards your sisterтБатАФwhich you ought to do; and on your being a more loving and agreeable sort of brotherтБатАФwhich you ought to be.тАЭ + 

тАЬI will be, Mr.┬аHarthouse.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo time like the present, Tom. Begin at once.тАЭ + 

тАЬCertainly I will. And my sister Loo shall say so.тАЭ + 

тАЬHaving made which bargain, Tom,тАЭ said Harthouse, clapping him on the shoulder again, with an air which left him at liberty to inferтБатАФas he did, poor foolтБатАФthat this condition was imposed upon him in mere careless good nature to lessen his sense of obligation, тАЬwe will tear ourselves asunder until dinnertime.тАЭ + 

When Tom appeared before dinner, though his mind seemed heavy enough, his body was on the alert; and he appeared before Mr.┬аBounderby came in. тАЬI didnтАЩt mean to be cross, Loo,тАЭ he said, giving her his hand, and kissing her. тАЬI know you are fond of me, and you know I am fond of you.тАЭ + 

After this, there was a smile upon LouisaтАЩs face that day, for someone else. Alas, for someone else! + 

тАЬSo much the less is the whelp the only creature that she cares for,тАЭ thought James Harthouse, reversing the reflection of his first dayтАЩs knowledge of her pretty face. тАЬSo much the less, so much the less.тАЭ + 

VIII + 

Explosion + 

The next morning was too bright a morning for sleep, and James Harthouse rose early, and sat in the pleasant bay window of his dressing-room, smoking the rare tobacco that had had so wholesome an influence on his young friend. Reposing in the sunlight, with the fragrance of his eastern pipe about him, and the dreamy smoke vanishing into the air, so rich and soft with summer odours, he reckoned up his advantages as an idle winner might count his gains. He was not at all bored for the time, and could give his mind to it. + 

He had established a confidence with her, from which her husband was excluded. He had established a confidence with her, that absolutely turned upon her indifference towards her husband, and the absence, now and at all times, of any congeniality between them. He had artfully, but plainly, assured her that he knew her heart in its last most delicate recesses; he had come so near to her through its tenderest sentiment; he had associated himself with that feeling; and the barrier behind which she lived, had melted away. All very odd, and very satisfactory! + 

And yet he had not, even now, any earnest wickedness of purpose in him. Publicly and privately, it were much better for the age in which he lived, that he and the legion of whom he was one were designedly bad, than indifferent and purposeless. It is the drifting icebergs setting with any current anywhere, that wreck the ships. + 

When the Devil goeth about like a roaring lion, he goeth about in a shape by which few but savages and hunters are attracted. But, when he is trimmed, smoothed, and varnished, according to the mode; when he is aweary of vice, and aweary of virtue, used up as to brimstone, and used up as to bliss; then, whether he take to the serving out of red tape, or to the kindling of red fire, he is the very Devil. + 

So James Harthouse reclined in the window, indolently smoking, and reckoning up the steps he had taken on the road by which he happened to be travelling. The end to which it led was before him, pretty plainly; but he troubled himself with no calculations about it. What will be, will be. + 

As he had rather a long ride to take that dayтБатАФfor there was a public occasion тАЬto doтАЭ at some distance, which afforded a tolerable opportunity of going in for the Gradgrind menтБатАФhe dressed early and went down to breakfast. He was anxious to see if she had relapsed since the previous evening. No. He resumed where he had left off. There was a look of interest for him again. + 

He got through the day as much (or as little) to his own satisfaction, as was to be expected under the fatiguing circumstances; and came riding back at six oтАЩclock. There was a sweep of some half-mile between the lodge and the house, and he was riding along at a foot pace over the smooth gravel, once NickitsтАЩs, when Mr.┬аBounderby burst out of the shrubbery, with such violence as to make his horse shy across the road. + 

тАЬHarthouse!тАЭ cried Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬHave you heard?тАЭ + 

тАЬHeard what?тАЭ said Harthouse, soothing his horse, and inwardly favouring Mr.┬аBounderby with no good wishes. + 

тАЬThen you havenтАЩt heard!тАЭ + 

тАЬI have heard you, and so has this brute. I have heard nothing else.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, red and hot, planted himself in the centre of the path before the horseтАЩs head, to explode his bombshell with more effect. + 

тАЬThe BankтАЩs robbed!тАЭ + 

тАЬYou donтАЩt mean it!тАЭ + 

тАЬRobbed last night, sir. Robbed in an extraordinary manner. Robbed with a false key.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf much?тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, in his desire to make the most of it, really seemed mortified by being obliged to reply, тАЬWhy, no; not of very much. But it might have been.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf how much?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! as a sumтБатАФif you stick to a sumтБатАФof not more than a hundred and fifty pound,тАЭ said Bounderby, with impatience. тАЬBut itтАЩs not the sum; itтАЩs the fact. ItтАЩs the fact of the Bank being robbed, thatтАЩs the important circumstance. I am surprised you donтАЩt see it.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear Bounderby,тАЭ said James, dismounting, and giving his bridle to his servant, тАЬI do see it; and am as overcome as you can possibly desire me to be, by the spectacle afforded to my mental view. Nevertheless, I may be allowed, I hope, to congratulate youтБатАФwhich I do with all my soul, I assure youтБатАФon your not having sustained a greater loss.тАЭ + 

тАЬThankтАЩee,тАЭ replied Bounderby, in a short, ungracious manner. тАЬBut I tell you what. It might have been twenty thousand pound.тАЭ + 

тАЬI suppose it might.тАЭ + 

тАЬSuppose it might! By the Lord, you may suppose so. By George!тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, with sundry menacing nods and shakes of his head. тАЬIt might have been twice twenty. ThereтАЩs no knowing what it would have been, or wouldnтАЩt have been, as it was, but for the fellowsтАЩ being disturbed.тАЭ + 

Louisa had come up now, and Mrs.┬аSparsit, and Bitzer. + 

тАЬHereтАЩs Tom GradgrindтАЩs daughter knows pretty well what it might have been, if you donтАЩt,тАЭ blustered Bounderby. тАЬDropped, sir, as if she was shot when I told her! Never knew her do such a thing before. Does her credit, under the circumstances, in my opinion!тАЭ + 

She still looked faint and pale. James Harthouse begged her to take his arm; and as they moved on very slowly, asked her how the robbery had been committed. + 

тАЬWhy, I am going to tell you,тАЭ said Bounderby, irritably giving his arm to Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬIf you hadnтАЩt been so mighty particular about the sum, I should have begun to tell you before. You know this lady (for she is a lady), Mrs.┬аSparsit?тАЭ + 

тАЬI have already had the honourтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬVery well. And this young man, Bitzer, you saw him too on the same occasion?тАЭ Mr.┬аHarthouse inclined his head in assent, and Bitzer knuckled his forehead. + 

тАЬVery well. They live at the Bank. You know they live at the Bank, perhaps? Very well. Yesterday afternoon, at the close of business hours, everything was put away as usual. In the iron room that this young fellow sleeps outside of, there was never mind how much. In the little safe in young TomтАЩs closet, the safe used for petty purposes, there was a hundred and fifty odd pound.тАЭ + 

тАЬA hundred and fifty-four, seven, one,тАЭ said Bitzer. + 

тАЬCome!тАЭ retorted Bounderby, stopping to wheel round upon him, тАЬletтАЩs have none of your interruptions. ItтАЩs enough to be robbed while youтАЩre snoring because youтАЩre too comfortable, without being put right with your four seven ones. I didnтАЩt snore, myself, when I was your age, let me tell you. I hadnтАЩt victuals enough to snore. And I didnтАЩt four seven one. Not if I knew it.тАЭ + 

Bitzer knuckled his forehead again, in a sneaking manner, and seemed at once particularly impressed and depressed by the instance last given of Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs moral abstinence. + 

тАЬA hundred and fifty odd pound,тАЭ resumed Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬThat sum of money, young Tom locked in his safe, not a very strong safe, but thatтАЩs no matter now. Everything was left, all right. Some time in the night, while this young fellow snoredтБатАФMrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam, you say you have heard him snore?тАЭ + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬI cannot say that I have heard him precisely snore, and therefore must not make that statement. But on winter evenings, when he has fallen asleep at his table, I have heard him, what I should prefer to describe as partially choke. I have heard him on such occasions produce sounds of a nature similar to what may be sometimes heard in Dutch clocks. Not,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a lofty sense of giving strict evidence, тАЬthat I would convey any imputation on his moral character. Far from it. I have always considered Bitzer a young man of the most upright principle; and to that I beg to bear my testimony.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell!тАЭ said the exasperated Bounderby, тАЬwhile he was snoring, or choking, or Dutch-clocking, or something or otherтБатАФbeing asleepтБатАФsome fellows, somehow, whether previously concealed in the house or not remains to be seen, got to young TomтАЩs safe, forced it, and abstracted the contents. Being then disturbed, they made off; letting themselves out at the main door, and double-locking it again (it was double-locked, and the key under Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs pillow) with a false key, which was picked up in the street near the Bank, about twelve oтАЩclock today. No alarm takes place, till this chap, Bitzer, turns out this morning, and begins to open and prepare the offices for business. Then, looking at TomтАЩs safe, he sees the door ajar, and finds the lock forced, and the money gone.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere is Tom, by the by?тАЭ asked Harthouse, glancing round. + 

тАЬHe has been helping the police,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬand stays behind at the Bank. I wish these fellows had tried to rob me when I was at his time of life. They would have been out of pocket if they had invested eighteenpence in the job; I can tell тАЩem that.тАЭ + 

тАЬIs anybody suspected?тАЭ + 

тАЬSuspected? I should think there was somebody suspected. Egod!тАЭ said Bounderby, relinquishing Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs arm to wipe his heated head. тАЬJosiah Bounderby of Coketown is not to be plundered and nobody suspected. No, thank you!тАЭ + 

Might Mr.┬аHarthouse inquire Who was suspected? + 

тАЬWell,тАЭ said Bounderby, stopping and facing about to confront them all, тАЬIтАЩll tell you. ItтАЩs not to be mentioned everywhere; itтАЩs not to be mentioned anywhere: in order that the scoundrels concerned (thereтАЩs a gang of тАЩem) may be thrown off their guard. So take this in confidence. Now wait a bit.тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby wiped his head again. тАЬWhat should you say to;тАЭ here he violently exploded: тАЬto a hand being in it?тАЭ + 

тАЬI hope,тАЭ said Harthouse, lazily, тАЬnot our friend Blackpot?тАЭ + 

тАЬSay Pool instead of Pot, sir,тАЭ returned Bounderby, тАЬand thatтАЩs the man.тАЭ + 

Louisa faintly uttered some word of incredulity and surprise. + 

тАЬO yes! I know!тАЭ said Bounderby, immediately catching at the sound. тАЬI know! I am used to that. I know all about it. They are the finest people in the world, these fellows are. They have got the gift of the gab, they have. They only want to have their rights explained to them, they do. But I tell you what. Show me a dissatisfied hand, and IтАЩll show you a man thatтАЩs fit for anything bad, I donтАЩt care what it is.тАЭ + 

Another of the popular fictions of Coketown, which some pains had been taken to disseminateтБатАФand which some people really believed. + 

тАЬBut I am acquainted with these chaps,тАЭ said Bounderby. тАЬI can read тАЩem off, like books. Mrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam, I appeal to you. What warning did I give that fellow, the first time he set foot in the house, when the express object of his visit was to know how he could knock religion over, and floor the established church? Mrs.┬аSparsit, in point of high connections, you are on a level with the aristocracyтБатАФdid I say, or did I not say, to that fellow, тАШyou canтАЩt hide the truth from me: you are not the kind of fellow I like; youтАЩll come to no goodтАЩ?тАЭ + 

тАЬAssuredly, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬyou did, in a highly impressive manner, give him such an admonition.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhen he shocked you, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby; тАЬwhen he shocked your feelings?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a meek shake of her head, тАЬhe certainly did so. Though I do not mean to say but that my feelings may be weaker on such pointsтБатАФmore foolish if the term is preferredтБатАФthan they might have been, if I had always occupied my present position.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby stared with a bursting pride at Mr.┬аHarthouse, as much as to say, тАЬI am the proprietor of this female, and sheтАЩs worth your attention, I think.тАЭ Then, resumed his discourse. + 

тАЬYou can recall for yourself, Harthouse, what I said to him when you saw him. I didnтАЩt mince the matter with him. I am never mealy with тАЩem. I know тАЩem. Very well, sir. Three days after that, he bolted. Went off, nobody knows where: as my mother did in my infancyтБатАФonly with this difference, that he is a worse subject than my mother, if possible. What did he do before he went? What do you say;тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby, with his hat in his hand, gave a beat upon the crown at every little division of his sentences, as if it were a tambourine; тАЬto his being seenтБатАФnight after nightтБатАФwatching the Bank?тБатАФto his lurking about thereтБатАФafter dark?тБатАФTo its striking Mrs.┬аSparsitтБатАФthat he could be lurking for no goodтБатАФTo her calling BitzerтАЩs attention to him, and their both taking notice of himтБатАФAnd to its appearing on inquiry todayтБатАФthat he was also noticed by the neighbours?тАЭ Having come to the climax, Mr.┬аBounderby, like an oriental dancer, put his tambourine on his head. + 

тАЬSuspicious,тАЭ said James Harthouse, тАЬcertainly.тАЭ + 

тАЬI think so, sir,тАЭ said Bounderby, with a defiant nod. тАЬI think so. But there are more of тАЩem in it. ThereтАЩs an old woman. One never hears of these things till the mischiefтАЩs done; all sorts of defects are found out in the stable door after the horse is stolen; thereтАЩs an old woman turns up now. An old woman who seems to have been flying into town on a broomstick, every now and then. She watches the place a whole day before this fellow begins, and on the night when you saw him, she steals away with him and holds a council with himтБатАФI suppose, to make her report on going off duty, and be damned to her.тАЭ + 

There was such a person in the room that night, and she shrunk from observation, thought Louisa. + 

тАЬThis is not all of тАЩem, even as we already know тАЩem,тАЭ said Bounderby, with many nods of hidden meaning. тАЬBut I have said enough for the present. YouтАЩll have the goodness to keep it quiet, and mention it to no one. It may take time, but we shall have тАЩem. ItтАЩs policy to give тАЩem line enough, and thereтАЩs no objection to that.тАЭ + 

тАЬOf course, they will be punished with the utmost rigour of the law, as notice-boards observe,тАЭ replied James Harthouse, тАЬand serve them right. Fellows who go in for banks must take the consequences. If there were no consequences, we should all go in for banks.тАЭ He had gently taken LouisaтАЩs parasol from her hand, and had put it up for her; and she walked under its shade, though the sun did not shine there. + 

тАЬFor the present, Loo Bounderby,тАЭ said her husband, тАЬhereтАЩs Mrs.┬аSparsit to look after. Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs nerves have been acted upon by this business, and sheтАЩll stay here a day or two. So make her comfortable.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you very much, sir,тАЭ that discreet lady observed, тАЬbut pray do not let my comfort be a consideration. Anything will do for me.тАЭ + 

It soon appeared that if Mrs.┬аSparsit had a failing in her association with that domestic establishment, it was that she was so excessively regardless of herself and regardful of others, as to be a nuisance. On being shown her chamber, she was so dreadfully sensible of its comforts as to suggest the inference that she would have preferred to pass the night on the mangle in the laundry. True, the Powlers and the Scadgerses were accustomed to splendour, тАЬbut it is my duty to remember,тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit was fond of observing with a lofty grace: particularly when any of the domestics were present, тАЬthat what I was, I am no longer. Indeed,тАЭ said she, тАЬif I could altogether cancel the remembrance that Mr.┬аSparsit was a Powler, or that I myself am related to the Scadgers family; or if I could even revoke the fact, and make myself a person of common descent and ordinary connections; I would gladly do so. I should think it, under existing circumstances, right to do so.тАЭ The same Hermitical state of mind led to her renunciation of made dishes and wines at dinner, until fairly commanded by Mr.┬аBounderby to take them; when she said, тАЬIndeed you are very good, sir;тАЭ and departed from a resolution of which she had made rather formal and public announcement, to тАЬwait for the simple mutton.тАЭ She was likewise deeply apologetic for wanting the salt; and, feeling amiably bound to bear out Mr.┬аBounderby to the fullest extent in the testimony he had borne to her nerves, occasionally sat back in her chair and silently wept; at which periods a tear of large dimensions, like a crystal earring, might be observed (or rather, must be, for it insisted on public notice) sliding down her Roman nose. + 

But Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs greatest point, first and last, was her determination to pity Mr.┬аBounderby. There were occasions when in looking at him she was involuntarily moved to shake her head, as who would say, тАЬAlas, poor Yorick!тАЭ After allowing herself to be betrayed into these evidences of emotion, she would force a lambent brightness, and would be fitfully cheerful, and would say, тАЬYou have still good spirits, sir, I am thankful to find;тАЭ and would appear to hail it as a blessed dispensation that Mr.┬аBounderby bore up as he did. One idiosyncrasy for which she often apologized, she found it excessively difficult to conquer. She had a curious propensity to call Mrs.┬аBounderby тАЬMiss Gradgrind,тАЭ and yielded to it some three or four score times in the course of the evening. Her repetition of this mistake covered Mrs.┬аSparsit with modest confusion; but indeed, she said, it seemed so natural to say Miss Gradgrind: whereas, to persuade herself that the young lady whom she had had the happiness of knowing from a child could be really and truly Mrs.┬аBounderby, she found almost impossible. It was a further singularity of this remarkable case, that the more she thought about it, the more impossible it appeared; тАЬthe differences,тАЭ she observed, тАЬbeing such.тАЭ + 

In the drawing-room after dinner, Mr.┬аBounderby tried the case of the robbery, examined the witnesses, made notes of the evidence, found the suspected persons guilty, and sentenced them to the extreme punishment of the law. That done, Bitzer was dismissed to town with instructions to recommend Tom to come home by the mail-train. + 

When candles were brought, Mrs.┬аSparsit murmured, тАЬDonтАЩt be low, sir. Pray let me see you cheerful, sir, as I used to do.тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby, upon whom these consolations had begun to produce the effect of making him, in a bullheaded blundering way, sentimental, sighed like some large sea-animal. тАЬI cannot bear to see you so, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬTry a hand at backgammon, sir, as you used to do when I had the honour of living under your roof.тАЭ тАЬI havenтАЩt played backgammon, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬsince that time.тАЭ тАЬNo, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, soothingly, тАЬI am aware that you have not. I remember that Miss Gradgrind takes no interest in the game. But I shall be happy, sir, if you will condescend.тАЭ + 

They played near a window, opening on the garden. It was a fine night: not moonlight, but sultry and fragrant. Louisa and Mr.┬аHarthouse strolled out into the garden, where their voices could be heard in the stillness, though not what they said. Mrs.┬аSparsit, from her place at the backgammon board, was constantly straining her eyes to pierce the shadows without. тАЬWhatтАЩs the matter, maтАЩam?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby; тАЬyou donтАЩt see a fire, do you?тАЭ тАЬOh dear no, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬI was thinking of the dew.тАЭ тАЬWhat have you got to do with the dew, maтАЩam?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬItтАЩs not myself, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬI am fearful of Miss GradgrindтАЩs taking cold.тАЭ тАЬShe never takes cold,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬReally, sir?тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. And was affected with a cough in her throat. + 

When the time drew near for retiring, Mr.┬аBounderby took a glass of water. тАЬOh, sir?тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬNot your sherry warm, with lemon-peel and nutmeg?тАЭ тАЬWhy, I have got out of the habit of taking it now, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬThe moreтАЩs the pity, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit; тАЬyou are losing all your good old habits. Cheer up, sir! If Miss Gradgrind will permit me, I will offer to make it for you, as I have often done.тАЭ + 

Miss Gradgrind readily permitting Mrs.┬аSparsit to do anything she pleased, that considerate lady made the beverage, and handed it to Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬIt will do you good, sir. It will warm your heart. It is the sort of thing you want, and ought to take, sir.тАЭ And when Mr.┬аBounderby said, тАЬYour health, maтАЩam!тАЭ she answered with great feeling, тАЬThank you, sir. The same to you, and happiness also.тАЭ Finally, she wished him good night, with great pathos; and Mr.┬аBounderby went to bed, with a maudlin persuasion that he had been crossed in something tender, though he could not, for his life, have mentioned what it was. + 

Long after Louisa had undressed and lain down, she watched and waited for her brotherтАЩs coming home. That could hardly be, she knew, until an hour past midnight; but in the country silence, which did anything but calm the trouble of her thoughts, time lagged wearily. At last, when the darkness and stillness had seemed for hours to thicken one another, she heard the bell at the gate. She felt as though she would have been glad that it rang on until daylight; but it ceased, and the circles of its last sound spread out fainter and wider in the air, and all was dead again. + 

She waited yet some quarter of an hour, as she judged. Then she arose, put on a loose robe, and went out of her room in the dark, and up the staircase to her brotherтАЩs room. His door being shut, she softly opened it and spoke to him, approaching his bed with a noiseless step. + 

She kneeled down beside it, passed her arm over his neck, and drew his face to hers. She knew that he only feigned to be asleep, but she said nothing to him. + 

He started by and by as if he were just then awakened, and asked who that was, and what was the matter? + 

тАЬTom, have you anything to tell me? If ever you loved me in your life, and have anything concealed from everyone besides, tell it to me.тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt know what you mean, Loo. You have been dreaming.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear brother:тАЭ she laid her head down on his pillow, and her hair flowed over him as if she would hide him from everyone but herself: тАЬis there nothing that you have to tell me? Is there nothing you can tell me if you will? You can tell me nothing that will change me. O Tom, tell me the truth!тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt know what you mean, Loo!тАЭ + 

тАЬAs you lie here alone, my dear, in the melancholy night, so you must lie somewhere one night, when even I, if I am living then, shall have left you. As I am here beside you, barefoot, unclothed, undistinguishable in darkness, so must I lie through all the night of my decay, until I am dust. In the name of that time, Tom, tell me the truth now!тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat is it you want to know?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou may be certain;тАЭ in the energy of her love she took him to her bosom as if he were a child; тАЬthat I will not reproach you. You may be certain that I will be compassionate and true to you. You may be certain that I will save you at whatever cost. O Tom, have you nothing to tell me? Whisper very softly. Say only тАШyes,тАЩ and I shall understand you!тАЭ + 

She turned her ear to his lips, but he remained doggedly silent. + 

тАЬNot a word, Tom?тАЭ + 

тАЬHow can I say Yes, or how can I say No, when I donтАЩt know what you mean? Loo, you are a brave, kind girl, worthy I begin to think of a better brother than I am. But I have nothing more to say. Go to bed, go to bed.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou are tired,тАЭ she whispered presently, more in her usual way. + 

тАЬYes, I am quite tired out.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou have been so hurried and disturbed today. Have any fresh discoveries been made?тАЭ + 

тАЬOnly those you have heard of, fromтБатАФhim.тАЭ + 

тАЬTom, have you said to anyone that we made a visit to those people, and that we saw those three together?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo. DidnтАЩt you yourself particularly ask me to keep it quiet when you asked me to go there with you?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes. But I did not know then what was going to happen.тАЭ + 

тАЬNor I neither. How could I?тАЭ + 

He was very quick upon her with this retort. + 

тАЬOught I to say, after what has happened,тАЭ said his sister, standing by the bedтБатАФshe had gradually withdrawn herself and risen, тАЬthat I made that visit? Should I say so? Must I say so?тАЭ + 

тАЬGood Heavens, Loo,тАЭ returned her brother, тАЬyou are not in the habit of asking my advice. Say what you like. If you keep it to yourself, I shall keep it to myself. If you disclose it, thereтАЩs an end of it.тАЭ + 

It was too dark for either to see the otherтАЩs face; but each seemed very attentive, and to consider before speaking. + 

тАЬTom, do you believe the man I gave the money to, is really implicated in this crime?тАЭ + 

тАЬI donтАЩt know. I donтАЩt see why he shouldnтАЩt be.тАЭ + 

тАЬHe seemed to me an honest man.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnother person may seem to you dishonest, and yet not be so.тАЭ There was a pause, for he had hesitated and stopped. + 

тАЬIn short,тАЭ resumed Tom, as if he had made up his mind, тАЬif you come to that, perhaps I was so far from being altogether in his favour, that I took him outside the door to tell him quietly, that I thought he might consider himself very well off to get such a windfall as he had got from my sister, and that I hoped he would make good use of it. You remember whether I took him out or not. I say nothing against the man; he may be a very good fellow, for anything I know; I hope he is.тАЭ + 

тАЬWas he offended by what you said?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, he took it pretty well; he was civil enough. Where are you, Loo?тАЭ He sat up in bed and kissed her. тАЬGood night, my dear, good night.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou have nothing more to tell me?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo. What should I have? You wouldnтАЩt have me tell you a lie!тАЭ + 

тАЬI wouldnтАЩt have you do that tonight, Tom, of all the nights in your life; many and much happier as I hope they will be.тАЭ + 

тАЬThank you, my dear Loo. I am so tired, that I am sure I wonder I donтАЩt say anything to get to sleep. Go to bed, go to bed.тАЭ + 

Kissing her again, he turned round, drew the coverlet over his head, and lay as still as if that time had come by which she had adjured him. She stood for some time at the bedside before she slowly moved away. She stopped at the door, looked back when she had opened it, and asked him if he had called her? But he lay still, and she softly closed the door and returned to her room. + 

Then the wretched boy looked cautiously up and found her gone, crept out of bed, fastened his door, and threw himself upon his pillow again: tearing his hair, morosely crying, grudgingly loving her, hatefully but impenitently spurning himself, and no less hatefully and unprofitably spurning all the good in the world. + 

IX + 

Hearing the Last of It + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit, lying by to recover the tone of her nerves in Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs retreat, kept such a sharp lookout, night and day, under her Coriolanian eyebrows, that her eyes, like a couple of lighthouses on an iron-bound coast, might have warned all prudent mariners from that bold rock her Roman nose and the dark and craggy region in its neighbourhood, but for the placidity of her manner. Although it was hard to believe that her retiring for the night could be anything but a form, so severely wide awake were those classical eyes of hers, and so impossible did it seem that her rigid nose could yield to any relaxing influence, yet her manner of sitting, smoothing her uncomfortable, not to say, gritty mittens (they were constructed of a cool fabric like a meat-safe), or of ambling to unknown places of destination with her foot in her cotton stirrup, was so perfectly serene, that most observers would have been constrained to suppose her a dove, embodied by some freak of nature, in the earthly tabernacle of a bird of the hook-beaked order. + 

She was a most wonderful woman for prowling about the house. How she got from story to story was a mystery beyond solution. A lady so decorous in herself, and so highly connected, was not to be suspected of dropping over the banisters or sliding down them, yet her extraordinary facility of locomotion suggested the wild idea. Another noticeable circumstance in Mrs.┬аSparsit was, that she was never hurried. She would shoot with consummate velocity from the roof to the hall, yet would be in full possession of her breath and dignity on the moment of her arrival there. Neither was she ever seen by human vision to go at a great pace. + 

She took very kindly to Mr.┬аHarthouse, and had some pleasant conversation with him soon after her arrival. She made him her stately curtsey in the garden, one morning before breakfast. + 

тАЬIt appears but yesterday, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬthat I had the honour of receiving you at the Bank, when you were so good as to wish to be made acquainted with Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs address.тАЭ + 

тАЬAn occasion, I am sure, not to be forgotten by myself in the course of ages,тАЭ said Mr.┬аHarthouse, inclining his head to Mrs.┬аSparsit with the most indolent of all possible airs. + 

тАЬWe live in a singular world, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬI have had the honour, by a coincidence of which I am proud, to have made a remark, similar in effect, though not so epigrammatically expressed.тАЭ + 

тАЬA singular world, I would say, sir,тАЭ pursued Mrs.┬аSparsit; after acknowledging the compliment with a drooping of her dark eyebrows, not altogether so mild in its expression as her voice was in its dulcet tones; тАЬas regards the intimacies we form at one time, with individuals we were quite ignorant of, at another. I recall, sir, that on that occasion you went so far as to say you were actually apprehensive of Miss Gradgrind.тАЭ + 

тАЬYour memory does me more honour than my insignificance deserves. I availed myself of your obliging hints to correct my timidity, and it is unnecessary to add that they were perfectly accurate. Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs talent forтБатАФin fact for anything requiring accuracyтБатАФwith a combination of strength of mindтБатАФand familyтБатАФis too habitually developed to admit of any question.тАЭ He was almost falling asleep over this compliment; it took him so long to get through, and his mind wandered so much in the course of its execution. + 

тАЬYou found Miss GradgrindтБатАФI really cannot call her Mrs.┬аBounderby; itтАЩs very absurd of meтБатАФas youthful as I described her?тАЭ asked Mrs.┬аSparsit, sweetly. + 

тАЬYou drew her portrait perfectly,тАЭ said Mr.┬аHarthouse. тАЬPresented her dead image.тАЭ + 

тАЬVery engaging, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, causing her mittens slowly to revolve over one another. + 

тАЬHighly so.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt used to be considered,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬthat Miss Gradgrind was wanting in animation, but I confess she appears to me considerably and strikingly improved in that respect. Ay, and indeed here is Mr.┬аBounderby!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аSparsit, nodding her head a great many times, as if she had been talking and thinking of no one else. тАЬHow do you find yourself this morning, sir? Pray let us see you cheerful, sir.тАЭ + 

Now, these persistent assuagements of his misery, and lightenings of his load, had by this time begun to have the effect of making Mr.┬аBounderby softer than usual towards Mrs.┬аSparsit, and harder than usual to most other people from his wife downward. So, when Mrs.┬аSparsit said with forced lightness of heart, тАЬYou want your breakfast, sir, but I dare say Miss Gradgrind will soon be here to preside at the table,тАЭ Mr.┬аBounderby replied, тАЬIf I waited to be taken care of by my wife, maтАЩam, I believe you know pretty well I should wait till Doomsday, so IтАЩll trouble you to take charge of the teapot.тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit complied, and assumed her old position at table. + 

This again made the excellent woman vastly sentimental. She was so humble withal, that when Louisa appeared, she rose, protesting she never could think of sitting in that place under existing circumstances, often as she had had the honour of making Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs breakfast, before Mrs.┬аGradgrindтБатАФshe begged pardon, she meant to say Miss BounderbyтБатАФshe hoped to be excused, but she really could not get it right yet, though she trusted to become familiar with it by and byтБатАФhad assumed her present position. It was only (she observed) because Miss Gradgrind happened to be a little late, and Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs time was so very precious, and she knew it of old to be so essential that he should breakfast to the moment, that she had taken the liberty of complying with his request; long as his will had been a law to her. + 

тАЬThere! Stop where you are, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, тАЬstop where you are! Mrs.┬аBounderby will be very glad to be relieved of the trouble, I believe.тАЭ + 

тАЬDonтАЩt say that, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, almost with severity, тАЬbecause that is very unkind to Mrs.┬аBounderby. And to be unkind is not to be you, sir.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou may set your mind at rest, maтАЩam.тБатАФYou can take it very quietly, canтАЩt you, Loo?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, in a blustering way to his wife. + 

тАЬOf course. It is of no moment. Why should it be of any importance to me?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy should it be of any importance to anyone, Mrs.┬аSparsit, maтАЩam?тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, swelling with a sense of slight. тАЬYou attach too much importance to these things, maтАЩam. By George, youтАЩll be corrupted in some of your notions here. You are old-fashioned, maтАЩam. You are behind Tom GradgrindтАЩs childrenтАЩs time.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat is the matter with you?тАЭ asked Louisa, coldly surprised. тАЬWhat has given you offence?тАЭ + 

тАЬOffence!тАЭ repeated Bounderby. тАЬDo you suppose if there was any offence given me, I shouldnтАЩt name it, and request to have it corrected? I am a straightforward man, I believe. I donтАЩt go beating about for side-winds.тАЭ + 

тАЬI suppose no one ever had occasion to think you too diffident, or too delicate,тАЭ Louisa answered him composedly: тАЬI have never made that objection to you, either as a child or as a woman. I donтАЩt understand what you would have.тАЭ + 

тАЬHave?тАЭ returned Mr.┬аBounderby. тАЬNothing. Otherwise, donтАЩt you, Loo Bounderby, know thoroughly well that I, Josiah Bounderby of Coketown, would have it?тАЭ + 

She looked at him, as he struck the table and made the teacups ring, with a proud colour in her face that was a new change, Mr.┬аHarthouse thought. тАЬYou are incomprehensible this morning,тАЭ said Louisa. тАЬPray take no further trouble to explain yourself. I am not curious to know your meaning. What does it matter?тАЭ + 

Nothing more was said on this theme, and Mr.┬аHarthouse was soon idly gay on indifferent subjects. But from this day, the Sparsit action upon Mr.┬аBounderby threw Louisa and James Harthouse more together, and strengthened the dangerous alienation from her husband and confidence against him with another, into which she had fallen by degrees so fine that she could not retrace them if she tried. But whether she ever tried or no, lay hidden in her own closed heart. + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit was so much affected on this particular occasion, that, assisting Mr.┬аBounderby to his hat after breakfast, and being then alone with him in the hall, she imprinted a chaste kiss upon his hand, murmured тАЬMy benefactor!тАЭ and retired, overwhelmed with grief. Yet it is an indubitable fact, within the cognizance of this history, that five minutes after he had left the house in the selfsame hat, the same descendant of the Scadgerses and connection by matrimony of the Powlers, shook her right-hand mitten at his portrait, made a contemptuous grimace at that work of art, and said тАЬServe you right, you Noodle, and I am glad of it.тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby had not been long gone, when Bitzer appeared. Bitzer had come down by train, shrieking and rattling over the long line of arches that bestrode the wild country of past and present coal-pits, with an express from Stone Lodge. It was a hasty note to inform Louisa that Mrs.┬аGradgrind lay very ill. She had never been well within her daughterтАЩs knowledge; but, she had declined within the last few days, had continued sinking all through the night, and was now as nearly dead, as her limited capacity of being in any state that implied the ghost of an intention to get out of it, allowed. + 

Accompanied by the lightest of porters, fit colourless servitor at DeathтАЩs door when Mrs.┬аGradgrind knocked, Louisa rumbled to Coketown, over the coal-pits past and present, and was whirled into its smoky jaws. She dismissed the messenger to his own devices, and rode away to her old home. + 

She had seldom been there since her marriage. Her father was usually sifting and sifting at his parliamentary cinder-heap in London (without being observed to turn up many precious articles among the rubbish), and was still hard at it in the national dust-yard. Her mother had taken it rather as a disturbance than otherwise, to be visited, as she reclined upon her sofa; young people, Louisa felt herself all unfit for; Sissy she had never softened to again, since the night when the strollerтАЩs child had raised her eyes to look at Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs intended wife. She had no inducements to go back, and had rarely gone. + 

Neither, as she approached her old home now, did any of the best influences of old home descend upon her. The dreams of childhoodтБатАФits airy fables; its graceful, beautiful, humane, impossible adornments of the world beyond: so good to be believed in once, so good to be remembered when outgrown, for then the least among them rises to the stature of a great charity in the heart, suffering little children to come into the midst of it, and to keep with their pure hands a garden in the stony ways of this world, wherein it were better for all the children of Adam that they should oftener sun themselves, simple and trustful, and not worldly-wiseтБатАФwhat had she to do with these? Remembrances of how she had journeyed to the little that she knew, by the enchanted roads of what she and millions of innocent creatures had hoped and imagined; of how, first coming upon Reason through the tender light of Fancy, she had seen it a beneficent god, deferring to gods as great as itself; not a grim idol, cruel and cold, with its victims bound hand to foot, and its big dumb shape set up with a sightless stare, never to be moved by anything but so many calculated tons of leverageтБатАФwhat had she to do with these? Her remembrances of home and childhood were remembrances of the drying up of every spring and fountain in her young heart as it gushed out. The golden waters were not there. They were flowing for the fertilization of the land where grapes are gathered from thorns, and figs from thistles. + 

She went, with a heavy, hardened kind of sorrow upon her, into the house and into her motherтАЩs room. Since the time of her leaving home, Sissy had lived with the rest of the family on equal terms. Sissy was at her motherтАЩs side; and Jane, her sister, now ten or twelve years old, was in the room. + 

There was great trouble before it could be made known to Mrs.┬аGradgrind that her eldest child was there. She reclined, propped up, from mere habit, on a couch: as nearly in her old usual attitude, as anything so helpless could be kept in. She had positively refused to take to her bed; on the ground that if she did, she would never hear the last of it. + 

Her feeble voice sounded so far away in her bundle of shawls, and the sound of another voice addressing her seemed to take such a long time in getting down to her ears, that she might have been lying at the bottom of a well. The poor lady was nearer truth than she ever had been: which had much to do with it. + 

On being told that Mrs.┬аBounderby was there, she replied, at cross-purposes, that she had never called him by that name since he married Louisa; that pending her choice of an objectionable name, she had called him J; and that she could not at present depart from that regulation, not being yet provided with a permanent substitute. Louisa had sat by her for some minutes, and had spoken to her often, before she arrived at a clear understanding who it was. She then seemed to come to it all at once. + 

тАЬWell, my dear,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind, тАЬand I hope you are going on satisfactorily to yourself. It was all your fatherтАЩs doing. He set his heart upon it. And he ought to know.тАЭ + 

тАЬI want to hear of you, mother; not of myself.тАЭ + 

тАЬYou want to hear of me, my dear? ThatтАЩs something new, I am sure, when anybody wants to hear of me. Not at all well, Louisa. Very faint and giddy.тАЭ + 

тАЬAre you in pain, dear mother?тАЭ + 

тАЬI think thereтАЩs a pain somewhere in the room,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind, тАЬbut I couldnтАЩt positively say that I have got it.тАЭ + 

After this strange speech, she lay silent for some time. Louisa, holding her hand, could feel no pulse; but kissing it, could see a slight thin thread of life in fluttering motion. + 

тАЬYou very seldom see your sister,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аGradgrind. тАЬShe grows like you. I wish you would look at her. Sissy, bring her here.тАЭ + 

She was brought, and stood with her hand in her sisterтАЩs. Louisa had observed her with her arm round SissyтАЩs neck, and she felt the difference of this approach. + 

тАЬDo you see the likeness, Louisa?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, mother. I should think her like me. ButтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬEh! Yes, I always say so,тАЭ Mrs.┬аGradgrind cried, with unexpected quickness. тАЬAnd that reminds me. IтБатАФI want to speak to you, my dear. Sissy, my good girl, leave us alone a minute.тАЭ Louisa had relinquished the hand: had thought that her sisterтАЩs was a better and brighter face than hers had ever been: had seen in it, not without a rising feeling of resentment, even in that place and at that time, something of the gentleness of the other face in the room; the sweet face with the trusting eyes, made paler than watching and sympathy made it, by the rich dark hair. + 

Left alone with her mother, Louisa saw her lying with an awful lull upon her face, like one who was floating away upon some great water, all resistance over, content to be carried down the stream. She put the shadow of a hand to her lips again, and recalled her. + 

тАЬYou were going to speak to me, mother.тАЭ + 

тАЬEh? Yes, to be sure, my dear. You know your father is almost always away now, and therefore I must write to him about it.тАЭ + 

тАЬAbout what, mother? DonтАЩt be troubled. About what?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou must remember, my dear, that whenever I have said anything, on any subject, I have never heard the last of it: and consequently, that I have long left off saying anything.тАЭ + 

тАЬI can hear you, mother.тАЭ But, it was only by dint of bending down to her ear, and at the same time attentively watching the lips as they moved, that she could link such faint and broken sounds into any chain of connection. + 

тАЬYou learnt a great deal, Louisa, and so did your brother. Ologies of all kinds from morning to night. If there is any Ology left, of any description, that has not been worn to rags in this house, all I can say is, I hope I shall never hear its name.тАЭ + 

тАЬI can hear you, mother, when you have strength to go on.тАЭ This, to keep her from floating away. + 

тАЬBut there is somethingтБатАФnot an Ology at allтБатАФthat your father has missed, or forgotten, Louisa. I donтАЩt know what it is. I have often sat with Sissy near me, and thought about it. I shall never get its name now. But your father may. It makes me restless. I want to write to him, to find out for GodтАЩs sake, what it is. Give me a pen, give me a pen.тАЭ + 

Even the power of restlessness was gone, except from the poor head, which could just turn from side to side. + 

She fancied, however, that her request had been complied with, and that the pen she could not have held was in her hand. It matters little what figures of wonderful no-meaning she began to trace upon her wrappers. The hand soon stopped in the midst of them; the light that had always been feeble and dim behind the weak transparency, went out; and even Mrs.┬аGradgrind, emerged from the shadow in which man walketh and disquieteth himself in vain, took upon her the dread solemnity of the sages and patriarchs. + 

X + 

Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs Staircase + 

Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs nerves being slow to recover their tone, the worthy woman made a stay of some weeks in duration at Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs retreat, where, notwithstanding her anchorite turn of mind based upon her becoming consciousness of her altered station, she resigned herself with noble fortitude to lodging, as one may say, in clover, and feeding on the fat of the land. During the whole term of this recess from the guardianship of the Bank, Mrs.┬аSparsit was a pattern of consistency; continuing to take such pity on Mr.┬аBounderby to his face, as is rarely taken on man, and to call his portrait a Noodle to its face, with the greatest acrimony and contempt. + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, having got it into his explosive composition that Mrs.┬аSparsit was a highly superior woman to perceive that he had that general cross upon him in his deserts (for he had not yet settled what it was), and further that Louisa would have objected to her as a frequent visitor if it had comported with his greatness that she should object to anything he chose to do, resolved not to lose sight of Mrs.┬аSparsit easily. So when her nerves were strung up to the pitch of again consuming sweetbreads in solitude, he said to her at the dinner-table, on the day before her departure, тАЬI tell you what, maтАЩam; you shall come down here of a Saturday, while the fine weather lasts, and stay till Monday.тАЭ To which Mrs.┬аSparsit returned, in effect, though not of the Mahomedan persuasion: тАЬTo hear is to obey.тАЭ + 

Now, Mrs.┬аSparsit was not a poetical woman; but she took an idea in the nature of an allegorical fancy, into her head. Much watching of Louisa, and much consequent observation of her impenetrable demeanour, which keenly whetted and sharpened Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs edge, must have given her as it were a lift, in the way of inspiration. She erected in her mind a mighty staircase, with a dark pit of shame and ruin at the bottom; and down those stairs, from day to day and hour to hour, she saw Louisa coming. + 

It became the business of Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs life, to look up at her staircase, and to watch Louisa coming down. Sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, sometimes several steps at one bout, sometimes stopping, never turning back. If she had once turned back, it might have been the death of Mrs.┬аSparsit in spleen and grief. + 

She had been descending steadily, to the day, and on the day, when Mr.┬аBounderby issued the weekly invitation recorded above. Mrs.┬аSparsit was in good spirits, and inclined to be conversational. + 

тАЬAnd pray, sir,тАЭ said she, тАЬif I may venture to ask a question appertaining to any subject on which you show reserveтБатАФwhich is indeed hardy in me, for I well know you have a reason for everything you doтБатАФhave you received intelligence respecting the robbery?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, maтАЩam, no; not yet. Under the circumstances, I didnтАЩt expect it yet. Rome wasnтАЩt built in a day, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬVery true, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, shaking her head. + 

тАЬNor yet in a week, maтАЩam.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, indeed, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, with a gentle melancholy upon her. + 

тАЬIn a similar manner, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, тАЬI can wait, you know. If Romulus and Remus could wait, Josiah Bounderby can wait. They were better off in their youth than I was, however. They had a she-wolf for a nurse; I had only a she-wolf for a grandmother. She didnтАЩt give any milk, maтАЩam; she gave bruises. She was a regular Alderney at that.тАЭ + 

тАЬAh!тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit sighed and shuddered. + 

тАЬNo, maтАЩam,тАЭ continued Bounderby, тАЬI have not heard anything more about it. ItтАЩs in hand, though; and young Tom, who rather sticks to business at presentтБатАФsomething new for him; he hadnтАЩt the schooling I hadтБатАФis helping. My injunction is, Keep it quiet, and let it seem to blow over. Do what you like under the rose, but donтАЩt give a sign of what youтАЩre about; or half a hundred of тАЩem will combine together and get this fellow who has bolted, out of reach for good. Keep it quiet, and the thieves will grow in confidence by little and little, and we shall have тАЩem.тАЭ + 

тАЬVery sagacious indeed, sir,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬVery interesting. The old woman you mentioned, sirтБатАФтАЭ + 

тАЬThe old woman I mentioned, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, cutting the matter short, as it was nothing to boast about, тАЬis not laid hold of; but, she may take her oath she will be, if that is any satisfaction to her villainous old mind. In the meantime, maтАЩam, I am of opinion, if you ask me my opinion, that the less she is talked about, the better.тАЭ + 

The same evening, Mrs.┬аSparsit, in her chamber window, resting from her packing operations, looked towards her great staircase and saw Louisa still descending. + 

She sat by Mr.┬аHarthouse, in an alcove in the garden, talking very low; he stood leaning over her, as they whispered together, and his face almost touched her hair. тАЬIf not quite!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, straining her hawkтАЩs eyes to the utmost. Mrs.┬аSparsit was too distant to hear a word of their discourse, or even to know that they were speaking softly, otherwise than from the expression of their figures; but what they said was this: + 

тАЬYou recollect the man, Mr.┬аHarthouse?тАЭ + 

тАЬOh, perfectly!тАЭ + 

тАЬHis face, and his manner, and what he said?тАЭ + 

тАЬPerfectly. And an infinitely dreary person he appeared to me to be. Lengthy and prosy in the extreme. It was knowing to hold forth, in the humble-virtue school of eloquence; but, I assure you I thought at the time, тАШMy good fellow, you are overdoing this!тАЩтАКтАЭ + 

тАЬIt has been very difficult to me to think ill of that man.тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear LouisaтБатАФas Tom says.тАЭ Which he never did say. тАЬYou know no good of the fellow?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, certainly.тАЭ + 

тАЬNor of any other such person?тАЭ + 

тАЬHow can I,тАЭ she returned, with more of her first manner on her than he had lately seen, тАЬwhen I know nothing of them, men or women?тАЭ + 

тАЬMy dear Louisa, then consent to receive the submissive representation of your devoted friend, who knows something of several varieties of his excellent fellow-creaturesтБатАФfor excellent they are, I am quite ready to believe, in spite of such little foibles as always helping themselves to what they can get hold of. This fellow talks. Well; every fellow talks. He professes morality. Well; all sorts of humbugs profess morality. From the House of Commons to the House of Correction, there is a general profession of morality, except among our people; it really is that exception which makes our people quite reviving. You saw and heard the case. Here was one of the fluffy classes pulled up extremely short by my esteemed friend Mr.┬аBounderbyтБатАФwho, as we know, is not possessed of that delicacy which would soften so tight a hand. The member of the fluffy classes was injured, exasperated, left the house grumbling, met somebody who proposed to him to go in for some share in this bank business, went in, put something in his pocket which had nothing in it before, and relieved his mind extremely. Really he would have been an uncommon, instead of a common, fellow, if he had not availed himself of such an opportunity. Or he may have originated it altogether, if he had the cleverness.тАЭ + 

тАЬI almost feel as though it must be bad in me,тАЭ returned Louisa, after sitting thoughtful awhile, тАЬto be so ready to agree with you, and to be so lightened in my heart by what you say.тАЭ + 

тАЬI only say what is reasonable; nothing worse. I have talked it over with my friend Tom more than onceтБатАФof course I remain on terms of perfect confidence with TomтБатАФand he is quite of my opinion, and I am quite of his. Will you walk?тАЭ + 

They strolled away, among the lanes beginning to be indistinct in the twilightтБатАФshe leaning on his armтБатАФand she little thought how she was going down, down, down, Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs staircase. + 

Night and day, Mrs.┬аSparsit kept it standing. When Louisa had arrived at the bottom and disappeared in the gulf, it might fall in upon her if it would; but, until then, there it was to be, a-building, before Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs eyes. And there Louisa always was, upon it. + 

And always gliding down, down, down! + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit saw James Harthouse come and go; she heard of him here and there; she saw the changes of the face he had studied; she, too, remarked to a nicety how and when it clouded, how and when it cleared; she kept her black eyes wide open, with no touch of pity, with no touch of compunction, all absorbed in interest. In the interest of seeing her, ever drawing, with no hand to stay her, nearer and nearer to the bottom of this new GiantтАЩs Staircase. + 

With all her deference for Mr.┬аBounderby as contradistinguished from his portrait, Mrs.┬аSparsit had not the smallest intention of interrupting the descent. Eager to see it accomplished, and yet patient, she waited for the last fall, as for the ripeness and fullness of the harvest of her hopes. Hushed in expectancy, she kept her wary gaze upon the stairs; and seldom so much as darkly shook her right mitten (with her fist in it), at the figure coming down. + 

XI + 

Lower and Lower + 

The figure descended the great stairs, steadily, steadily; always verging, like a weight in deep water, to the black gulf at the bottom. + 

Mr.┬аGradgrind, apprised of his wifeтАЩs decease, made an expedition from London, and buried her in a businesslike manner. He then returned with promptitude to the national cinder-heap, and resumed his sifting for the odds and ends he wanted, and his throwing of the dust about into the eyes of other people who wanted other odds and endsтБатАФin fact resumed his parliamentary duties. + 

In the meantime, Mrs.┬аSparsit kept unwinking watch and ward. Separated from her staircase, all the week, by the length of iron road dividing Coketown from the country house, she yet maintained her catlike observation of Louisa, through her husband, through her brother, through James Harthouse, through the outsides of letters and packets, through everything animate and inanimate that at any time went near the stairs. тАЬYour foot on the last step, my lady,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, apostrophizing the descending figure, with the aid of her threatening mitten, тАЬand all your art shall never blind me.тАЭ + 

Art or nature though, the original stock of LouisaтАЩs character or the graft of circumstances upon itтБатАФher curious reserve did baffle, while it stimulated, one as sagacious as Mrs.┬аSparsit. There were times when Mr.┬аJames Harthouse was not sure of her. There were times when he could not read the face he had studied so long; and when this lonely girl was a greater mystery to him, than any woman of the world with a ring of satellites to help her. + 

So the time went on; until it happened that Mr.┬аBounderby was called away from home by business which required his presence elsewhere, for three or four days. It was on a Friday that he intimated this to Mrs.┬аSparsit at the Bank, adding: тАЬBut youтАЩll go down tomorrow, maтАЩam, all the same. YouтАЩll go down just as if I was there. It will make no difference to you.тАЭ + 

тАЬPray, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, reproachfully, тАЬlet me beg you not to say that. Your absence will make a vast difference to me, sir, as I think you very well know.тАЭ + 

тАЬWell, maтАЩam, then you must get on in my absence as well as you can,тАЭ said Mr.┬аBounderby, not displeased. + 

тАЬMr.┬аBounderby,тАЭ retorted Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬyour will is to me a law, sir; otherwise, it might be my inclination to dispute your kind commands, not feeling sure that it will be quite so agreeable to Miss Gradgrind to receive me, as it ever is to your own munificent hospitality. But you shall say no more, sir. I will go, upon your invitation.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, when I invite you to my house, maтАЩam,тАЭ said Bounderby, opening his eyes, тАЬI should hope you want no other invitation.тАЭ + 

тАЬNo, indeed, sir,тАЭ returned Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬI should hope not. Say no more, sir. I would, sir, I could see you gay again.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat do you mean, maтАЩam?тАЭ blustered Bounderby. + 

тАЬSir,тАЭ rejoined Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬthere was wont to be an elasticity in you which I sadly miss. Be buoyant, sir!тАЭ + 

Mr.┬аBounderby, under the influence of this difficult adjuration, backed up by her compassionate eye, could only scratch his head in a feeble and ridiculous manner, and afterwards assert himself at a distance, by being heard to bully the small fry of business all the morning. + 

тАЬBitzer,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit that afternoon, when her patron was gone on his journey, and the Bank was closing, тАЬpresent my compliments to young Mr.┬аThomas, and ask him if he would step up and partake of a lamb chop and walnut ketchup, with a glass of India ale?тАЭ Young Mr.┬аThomas being usually ready for anything in that way, returned a gracious answer, and followed on its heels. тАЬMr.┬аThomas,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬthese plain viands being on table, I thought you might be tempted.тАЭ + 

тАЬThankтАЩee, Mrs.┬аSparsit,тАЭ said the whelp. And gloomily fell to. + 

тАЬHow is Mr.┬аHarthouse, Mr.┬аTom?тАЭ asked Mrs.┬аSparsit. + 

тАЬOh, heтАЩs all right,тАЭ said Tom. + 

тАЬWhere may he be at present?тАЭ Mrs.┬аSparsit asked in a light conversational manner, after mentally devoting the whelp to the Furies for being so uncommunicative. + 

тАЬHe is shooting in Yorkshire,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬSent Loo a basket half as big as a church, yesterday.тАЭ + 

тАЬThe kind of gentleman, now,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, sweetly, тАЬwhom one might wager to be a good shot!тАЭ + 

тАЬCrack,тАЭ said Tom. + 

He had long been a down-looking young fellow, but this characteristic had so increased of late, that he never raised his eyes to any face for three seconds together. Mrs.┬аSparsit consequently had ample means of watching his looks, if she were so inclined. + 

тАЬMr.┬аHarthouse is a great favourite of mine,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬas indeed he is of most people. May we expect to see him again shortly, Mr.┬аTom?тАЭ + 

тАЬWhy, I expect to see him tomorrow,тАЭ returned the whelp. + 

тАЬGood news!тАЭ cried Mrs.┬аSparsit, blandly. + 

тАЬI have got an appointment with him to meet him in the evening at the station here,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬand I am going to dine with him afterwards, I believe. He is not coming down to the country house for a week or so, being due somewhere else. At least, he says so; but I shouldnтАЩt wonder if he was to stop here over Sunday, and stray that way.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhich reminds me!тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit. тАЬWould you remember a message to your sister, Mr.┬аTom, if I was to charge you with one?тАЭ + 

тАЬWell? IтАЩll try,тАЭ returned the reluctant whelp, тАЬif it isnтАЩt a long un.тАЭ + 

тАЬIt is merely my respectful compliments,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬand I fear I may not trouble her with my society this week; being still a little nervous, and better perhaps by my poor self.тАЭ + 

тАЬOh! If thatтАЩs all,тАЭ observed Tom, тАЬit wouldnтАЩt much matter, even if I was to forget it, for LooтАЩs not likely to think of you unless she sees you.тАЭ + 

Having paid for his entertainment with this agreeable compliment, he relapsed into a hangdog silence until there was no more India ale left, when he said, тАЬWell, Mrs.┬аSparsit, I must be off!тАЭ and went off. + 

Next day, Saturday, Mrs.┬аSparsit sat at her window all day long looking at the customers coming in and out, watching the postmen, keeping an eye on the general traffic of the street, revolving many things in her mind, but, above all, keeping her attention on her staircase. The evening come, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and went quietly out: having her reasons for hovering in a furtive way about the station by which a passenger would arrive from Yorkshire, and for preferring to peep into it round pillars and corners, and out of ladiesтАЩ waiting-room windows, to appearing in its precincts openly. + 

Tom was in attendance, and loitered about until the expected train came in. It brought no Mr.┬аHarthouse. Tom waited until the crowd had dispersed, and the bustle was over; and then referred to a posted list of trains, and took counsel with porters. That done, he strolled away idly, stopping in the street and looking up it and down it, and lifting his hat off and putting it on again, and yawning and stretching himself, and exhibiting all the symptoms of mortal weariness to be expected in one who had still to wait until the next train should come in, an hour and forty minutes hence. + 

тАЬThis is a device to keep him out of the way,тАЭ said Mrs.┬аSparsit, starting from the dull office window whence she had watched him last. тАЬHarthouse is with his sister now!тАЭ + 

It was the conception of an inspired moment, and she shot off with her utmost swiftness to work it out. The station for the country house was at the opposite end of the town, the time was short, the road not easy; but she was so quick in pouncing on a disengaged coach, so quick in darting out of it, producing her money, seizing her ticket, and diving into the train, that she was borne along the arches spanning the land of coal-pits past and present, as if she had been caught up in a cloud and whirled away. + 

All the journey, immovable in the air though never left behind; plain to the dark eyes of her mind, as the electric wires which ruled a colossal strip of music-paper out of the evening sky, were plain to the dark eyes of her body; Mrs.┬аSparsit saw her staircase, with the figure coming down. Very near the bottom now. Upon the brink of the abyss. + 

An overcast September evening, just at nightfall, saw beneath its drooping eyelids Mrs.┬аSparsit glide out of her carriage, pass down the wooden steps of the little station into a stony road, cross it into a green lane, and become hidden in a summer-growth of leaves and branches. One or two late birds sleepily chirping in their nests, and a bat heavily crossing and recrossing her, and the reek of her own tread in the thick dust that felt like velvet, were all Mrs.┬аSparsit heard or saw until she very softly closed a gate. + 

She went up to the house, keeping within the shrubbery, and went round it, peeping between the leaves at the lower windows. Most of them were open, as they usually were in such warm weather, but there were no lights yet, and all was silent. She tried the garden with no better effect. She thought of the wood, and stole towards it, heedless of long grass and briers: of worms, snails, and slugs, and all the creeping things that be. With her dark eyes and her hook nose warily in advance of her, Mrs.┬аSparsit softly crushed her way through the thick undergrowth, so intent upon her object that she probably would have done no less, if the wood had been a wood of adders. + 

Hark! + 

The smaller birds might have tumbled out of their nests, fascinated by the glittering of Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs eyes in the gloom, as she stopped and listened. + 

Low voices close at hand. His voice and hers. The appointment was a device to keep the brother away! There they were yonder, by the felled tree. + 

Bending low among the dewy grass, Mrs.┬аSparsit advanced closer to them. She drew herself up, and stood behind a tree, like Robinson Crusoe in his ambuscade against the savages; so near to them that at a spring, and that no great one, she could have touched them both. He was there secretly, and had not shown himself at the house. He had come on horseback, and must have passed through the neighbouring fields; for his horse was tied to the meadow side of the fence, within a few paces. + 

тАЬMy dearest love,тАЭ said he, тАЬwhat could I do? Knowing you were alone, was it possible that I could stay away?тАЭ + 

тАЬYou may hang your head, to make yourself the more attractive; I donтАЩt know what they see in you when you hold it up,тАЭ thought Mrs.┬аSparsit; тАЬbut you little think, my dearest love, whose eyes are on you!тАЭ + 

That she hung her head, was certain. She urged him to go away, she commanded him to go away; but she neither turned her face to him, nor raised it. Yet it was remarkable that she sat as still as ever the amiable woman in ambuscade had seen her sit, at any period in her life. Her hands rested in one another, like the hands of a statue; and even her manner of speaking was not hurried. + 

тАЬMy dear child,тАЭ said Harthouse; Mrs.┬аSparsit saw with delight that his arm embraced her; тАЬwill you not bear with my society for a little while?тАЭ + 

тАЬNot here.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhere, Louisa?тАЭ + 

тАЬNot here.тАЭ + 

тАЬBut we have so little time to make so much of, and I have come so far, and am altogether so devoted, and distracted. There never was a slave at once so devoted and ill-used by his mistress. To look for your sunny welcome that has warmed me into life, and to be received in your frozen manner, is heartrending.тАЭ + 

тАЬAm I to say again, that I must be left to myself here?тАЭ + 

тАЬBut we must meet, my dear Louisa. Where shall we meet?тАЭ + 

They both started. The listener started, guiltily, too; for she thought there was another listener among the trees. It was only rain, beginning to fall fast, in heavy drops. + 

тАЬShall I ride up to the house a few minutes hence, innocently supposing that its master is at home and will be charmed to receive me?тАЭ + 

тАЬNo!тАЭ + 

тАЬYour cruel commands are implicitly to be obeyed; though I am the most unfortunate fellow in the world, I believe, to have been insensible to all other women, and to have fallen prostrate at last under the foot of the most beautiful, and the most engaging, and the most imperious. My dearest Louisa, I cannot go myself, or let you go, in this hard abuse of your power.тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit saw him detain her with his encircling arm, and heard him then and there, within her (Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs) greedy hearing, tell her how he loved her, and how she was the stake for which he ardently desired to play away all that he had in life. The objects he had lately pursued, turned worthless beside her; such success as was almost in his grasp, he flung away from him like the dirt it was, compared with her. Its pursuit, nevertheless, if it kept him near her, or its renunciation if it took him from her, or flight if she shared it, or secrecy if she commanded it, or any fate, or every fate, all was alike to him, so that she was true to himтБатАФthe man who had seen how cast away she was, whom she had inspired at their first meeting with an admiration, an interest, of which he had thought himself incapable, whom she had received into her confidence, who was devoted to her and adored her. All this, and more, in his hurry, and in hers, in the whirl of her own gratified malice, in the dread of being discovered, in the rapidly increasing noise of heavy rain among the leaves, and a thunderstorm rolling upтБатАФMrs.┬аSparsit received into her mind, set off with such an unavoidable halo of confusion and indistinctness, that when at length he climbed the fence and led his horse away, she was not sure where they were to meet, or when, except that they had said it was to be that night. + 

But one of them yet remained in the darkness before her; and while she tracked that one she must be right. тАЬOh, my dearest love,тАЭ thought Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬyou little think how well attended you are!тАЭ + 

Mrs.┬аSparsit saw her out of the wood, and saw her enter the house. What to do next? It rained now, in a sheet of water. Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs white stockings were of many colours, green predominating; prickly things were in her shoes; caterpillars slung themselves, in hammocks of their own making, from various parts of her dress; rills ran from her bonnet, and her Roman nose. In such condition, Mrs.┬аSparsit stood hidden in the density of the shrubbery, considering what next? + 

Lo, Louisa coming out of the house! Hastily cloaked and muffled, and stealing away. She elopes! She falls from the lowermost stair, and is swallowed up in the gulf. + 

Indifferent to the rain, and moving with a quick determined step, she struck into a side-path parallel with the ride. Mrs.┬аSparsit followed in the shadow of the trees, at but a short distance; for it was not easy to keep a figure in view going quickly through the umbrageous darkness. + 

When she stopped to close the side-gate without noise, Mrs.┬аSparsit stopped. When she went on, Mrs.┬аSparsit went on. She went by the way Mrs.┬аSparsit had come, emerged from the green lane, crossed the stony road, and ascended the wooden steps to the railroad. A train for Coketown would come through presently, Mrs.┬аSparsit knew; so she understood Coketown to be her first place of destination. + 

In Mrs.┬аSparsitтАЩs limp and streaming state, no extensive precautions were necessary to change her usual appearance; but, she stopped under the lee of the station wall, tumbled her shawl into a new shape, and put it on over her bonnet. So disguised she had no fear of being recognized when she followed up the railroad steps, and paid her money in the small office. Louisa sat waiting in a corner. Mrs.┬аSparsit sat waiting in another corner. Both listened to the thunder, which was loud, and to the rain, as it washed off the roof, and pattered on the parapets of the arches. Two or three lamps were rained out and blown out; so, both saw the lightning to advantage as it quivered and zigzagged on the iron tracks. + 

The seizure of the station with a fit of trembling, gradually deepening to a complaint of the heart, announced the train. Fire and steam, and smoke, and red light; a hiss, a crash, a bell, and a shriek; Louisa put into one carriage, Mrs.┬аSparsit put into another: the little station a desert speck in the thunderstorm. + 

Though her teeth chattered in her head from wet and cold, Mrs.┬аSparsit exulted hugely. The figure had plunged down the precipice, and she felt herself, as it were, attending on the body. Could she, who had been so active in the getting up of the funeral triumph, do less than exult? тАЬShe will be at Coketown long before him,тАЭ thought Mrs.┬аSparsit, тАЬthough his horse is never so good. Where will she wait for him? And where will they go together? Patience. We shall see.тАЭ + 

The tremendous rain occasioned infinite confusion, when the train stopped at its destination. Gutters and pipes had burst, drains had overflowed, and streets were under water. In the first instant of alighting, Mrs.┬аSparsit turned her distracted eyes towards the waiting coaches, which were in great request. тАЬShe will get into one,тАЭ she considered, тАЬand will be away before I can follow in another. At all risks of being run over, I must see the number, and hear the order given to the coachman.тАЭ + 

But, Mrs.┬аSparsit was wrong in her calculation. Louisa got into no coach, and was already gone. The black eyes kept upon the railroad-carriage in which she had travelled, settled upon it a moment too late. The door not being opened after several minutes, Mrs.┬аSparsit passed it and repassed it, saw nothing, looked in, and found it empty. Wet through and through: with her feet squelching and squashing in her shoes whenever she moved; with a rash of rain upon her classical visage; with a bonnet like an overripe fig; with all her clothes spoiled; with damp impressions of every button, string, and hook-and-eye she wore, printed off upon her highly connected back; with a stagnant verdure on her general exterior, such as accumulates on an old park fence in a mouldy lane; Mrs.┬аSparsit had no resource but to burst into tears of bitterness and say, тАЬI have lost her!тАЭ + 

XII + 

Down + 

The national dustmen, after entertaining one another with a great many noisy little fights among themselves, had dispersed for the present, and Mr.┬аGradgrind was at home for the vacation. + 

He sat writing in the room with the deadly statistical clock, proving something no doubtтБатАФprobably, in the main, that the Good Samaritan was a Bad Economist. The noise of the rain did not disturb him much; but it attracted his attention sufficiently to make him raise his head sometimes, as if he were rather remonstrating with the elements. When it thundered very loudly, he glanced towards Coketown, having it in his mind that some of the tall chimneys might be struck by lightning. + 

The thunder was rolling into distance, and the rain was pouring down like a deluge, when the door of his room opened. He looked round the lamp upon his table, and saw, with amazement, his eldest daughter. + 

тАЬLouisa!тАЭ + 

тАЬFather, I want to speak to you.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat is the matter? How strange you look! And good Heaven,тАЭ said Mr.┬аGradgrind, wondering more and more, тАЬhave you come here exposed to this storm?тАЭ + 

She put her hands to her dress, as if she hardly knew. тАЬYes.тАЭ Then she uncovered her head, and letting her cloak and hood fall where they might, stood looking at him: so colourless, so dishevelled, so defiant and despairing, that he was afraid of her. + 

тАЬWhat is it? I conjure you, Louisa, tell me what is the matter.тАЭ + 

She dropped into a chair before him, and put her cold hand on his arm. + 

тАЬFather, you have trained me from my cradle?тАЭ + 

тАЬYes, Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬI curse the hour in which I was born to such a destiny.тАЭ + 

He looked at her in doubt and dread, vacantly repeating: тАЬCurse the hour? Curse the hour?тАЭ + 

тАЬHow could you give me life, and take from me all the inappreciable things that raise it from the state of conscious death? Where are the graces of my soul? Where are the sentiments of my heart? What have you done, O father, what have you done, with the garden that should have bloomed once, in this great wilderness here!тАЭ + 

She struck herself with both her hands upon her bosom. + 

тАЬIf it had ever been here, its ashes alone would save me from the void in which my whole life sinks. I did not mean to say this; but, father, you remember the last time we conversed in this room?тАЭ + 

He had been so wholly unprepared for what he heard now, that it was with difficulty he answered, тАЬYes, Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat has risen to my lips now, would have risen to my lips then, if you had given me a momentтАЩs help. I donтАЩt reproach you, father. What you have never nurtured in me, you have never nurtured in yourself; but O! if you had only done so long ago, or if you had only neglected me, what a much better and much happier creature I should have been this day!тАЭ + 

On hearing this, after all his care, he bowed his head upon his hand and groaned aloud. + 

тАЬFather, if you had known, when we were last together here, what even I feared while I strove against itтБатАФas it has been my task from infancy to strive against every natural prompting that has arisen in my heart; if you had known that there lingered in my breast, sensibilities, affections, weaknesses capable of being cherished into strength, defying all the calculations ever made by man, and no more known to his arithmetic than his Creator isтБатАФwould you have given me to the husband whom I am now sure that I hate?тАЭ + 

He said, тАЬNo. No, my poor child.тАЭ + 

тАЬWould you have doomed me, at any time, to the frost and blight that have hardened and spoiled me? Would you have robbed meтБатАФfor no oneтАЩs enrichmentтБатАФonly for the greater desolation of this worldтБатАФof the immaterial part of my life, the spring and summer of my belief, my refuge from what is sordid and bad in the real things around me, my school in which I should have learned to be more humble and more trusting with them, and to hope in my little sphere to make them better?тАЭ + 

тАЬO no, no. No, Louisa.тАЭ + 

тАЬYet, father, if I had been stone blind; if I had groped my way by my sense of touch, and had been free, while I knew the shapes and surfaces of things, to exercise my fancy somewhat, in regard to them; I should have been a million times wiser, happier, more loving, more contented, more innocent and human in all good respects, than I am with the eyes I have. Now, hear what I have come to say.тАЭ + 

He moved, to support her with his arm. She rising as he did so, they stood close together: she, with a hand upon his shoulder, looking fixedly in his face. + 

тАЬWith a hunger and thirst upon me, father, which have never been for a moment appeased; with an ardent impulse towards some region where rules, and figures, and definitions were not quite absolute; I have grown up, battling every inch of my way.тАЭ + 

тАЬI never knew you were unhappy, my child.тАЭ + 

тАЬFather, I always knew it. In this strife I have almost repulsed and crushed my better angel into a demon. What I have learned has left me doubting, misbelieving, despising, regretting, what I have not learned; and my dismal resource has been to think that life would soon go by, and that nothing in it could be worth the pain and trouble of a contest.тАЭ + 

тАЬAnd you so young, Louisa!тАЭ he said with pity. + 

тАЬAnd I so young. In this condition, fatherтБатАФfor I show you now, without fear or favour, the ordinary deadened state of my mind as I know itтБатАФyou proposed my husband to me. I took him. I never made a pretence to him or you that I loved him. I knew, and, father, you knew, and he knew, that I never did. I was not wholly indifferent, for I had a hope of being pleasant and useful to Tom. I made that wild escape into something visionary, and have slowly found out how wild it was. But Tom had been the subject of all the little tenderness of my life; perhaps he became so because I knew so well how to pity him. It matters little now, except as it may dispose you to think more leniently of his errors.тАЭ + 

As her father held her in his arms, she put her other hand upon his other shoulder, and still looking fixedly in his face, went on. + 

тАЬWhen I was irrevocably married, there rose up into rebellion against the tie, the old strife, made fiercer by all those causes of disparity which arise out of our two individual natures, and which no general laws shall ever rule or state for me, father, until they shall be able to direct the anatomist where to strike his knife into the secrets of my soul.тАЭ + 

тАЬLouisa!тАЭ he said, and said imploringly; for he well remembered what had passed between them in their former interview. + 

тАЬI do not reproach you, father, I make no complaint. I am here with another object.тАЭ + 

тАЬWhat can I do, child? Ask me what you will.тАЭ + 

тАЬI am coming to it. Father, chance then threw into my way a new acquaintance; a man such as I had had no experience of; used to the world; light, polished, easy; making no pretences; avowing the low estimate of everything, that I was half afraid to form in secret; conveying to me almost immediately, though I donтАЩt know how or by what degrees, that he understood me, and read my thoughts. I could not find that he was worse than I. There seemed to be a near affinity between us. I only wondered it should be worth his while, who cared for nothing else, to care so much for me.тАЭ + 

тАЬFor you, Louisa!тАЭ + 

Her father might instinctively have loosened his hold, but that he felt her strength departing from her, and saw a wild dilating fire in the eyes steadfastly regarding him. + 

тАЬI say nothing of his plea for claiming my confidence. It matters very little how he gained it. Father, he did gain it. What you know of the story of my marriage, he soon knew, just as well.тАЭ + 

Her fatherтАЩs face was ashy white, and he held her in both his arms. + 

тАЬI have done no worse, I have not disgraced you. But if you ask me whether I have loved him, or do love him, I tell you plainly, father, that it may be so. I donтАЩt know.тАЭ + 

She took her hands suddenly from his shoulders, and pressed them both upon her side; while in her face, not like itselfтБатАФand in her figure, drawn up, resolute to finish by a last effort what she had to sayтБатАФthe feelings long suppressed broke loose. + 

тАЬThis night, my husband being away, he has been with me, declaring himself my lover. This minute he expects me, for I could release myself of his presence by no other means. I do not know that I am sorry, I do not know that I am ashamed, I do not know that I am degraded in my own esteem. All that I know is, your philosophy and your teaching will not save me. Now, father, you have brought me to this. Save me by some other means!тАЭ + 

He tightened his hold in time to prevent her sinking on the floor, but she cried out in a terrible voice, тАЬI shall die if you hold me! Let me fall upon the ground!тАЭ And he laid her down there, and saw the pride of his heart and the triumph of his system, lying, an insensible heap, at his feet. + 