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 + 