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. + 