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    Hard Times

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      question with the previous habits of mind, and habits of life, that

      belong to many young women.'

      'No, father,' she returned, 'I do not.'

      'I now leave you to judge for yourself,' said Mr. Gradgrind. 'I

      have stated the case, as such cases are usually stated among

      practical minds; I have stated it, as the case of your mother and

      myself was stated in its time. The rest, my dear Louisa, is for

      you to decide.'

      From the beginning, she had sat looking at him fixedly. As he now

      leaned back in his chair, and bent his deep-set eyes upon her in

      his turn, perhaps he might have seen one wavering moment in her,

      when she was impelled to throw herself upon his breast, and give

      him the pent-up confidences of her heart. But, to see it, he must

      have overleaped at a bound the artificial barriers he had for many

      years been erecting, between himself and all those subtle essences

      of humanity which will elude the utmost cunning of algebra until

      the last trumpet ever to be sounded shall blow even algebra to

      wreck. The barriers were too many and too high for such a leap.

      With his unbending, utilitarian, matter-of-fact face, he hardened

      her again; and the moment shot away into the plumbless depths of

      the past, to mingle with all the lost opportunities that are

      drowned there.

      Removing her eyes from him, she sat so long looking silently

      towards the town, that he said, at length: 'Are you consulting the

      chimneys of the Coketown works, Louisa?'

      'There seems to be nothing there but languid and monotonous smoke.

      Yet when the night comes, Fire bursts out, father!' she answered,

      turning quickly.

      'Of course I know that, Louisa. I do not see the application of

      the remark.' To do him justice he did not, at all.

      She passed it away with a slight motion of her hand, and

      concentrating her attention upon him again, said, 'Father, I have

      often thought that life is very short.' - This was so distinctly

      one of his subjects that he interposed.

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      Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

      'It is short, no doubt, my dear. Still, the average duration of

      human life is proved to have increased of late years. The

      calculations of various life assurance and annuity offices, among

      other figures which cannot go wrong, have established the fact.'

      'I speak of my own life, father.'

      'O indeed? Still,' said Mr. Gradgrind, 'I need not point out to

      you, Louisa, that it is governed by the laws which govern lives in

      the aggregate.'

      'While it lasts, I would wish to do the little I can, and the

      little I am fit for. What does it matter?'

      Mr. Gradgrind seemed rather at a loss to understand the last four

      words; replying, 'How, matter? What matter, my dear?'

      'Mr. Bounderby,' she went on in a steady, straight way, without

      regarding this, 'asks me to marry him. The question I have to ask

      myself is, shall I marry him? That is so, father, is it not? You

      have told me so, father. Have you not?'

      'Certainly, my dear.'

      'Let it be so. Since Mr. Bounderby likes to take me thus, I am

      satisfied to accept his proposal. Tell him, father, as soon as you

      please, that this was my answer. Repeat it, word for word, if you

      can, because I should wish him to know what I said.'

      'It is quite right, my dear,' retorted her father approvingly, 'to

      be exact. I will observe your very proper request. Have you any

      wish in reference to the period of your marriage, my child?'

      'None, father. What does it matter!'

      Mr. Gradgrind had drawn his chair a little nearer to her, and taken

      her hand. But, her repetition of these words seemed to strike with

      some little discord on his ear. He paused to look at her, and,

      still holding her hand, said:

      'Louisa, I have not considered it essential to ask you one

      question, because the possibility implied in it appeared to me to

      be too remote. But perhaps I ought to do so. You have never

      entertained in secret any other proposal?'

      'Father,' she returned, almost scornfully, 'what other proposal can

      have been made to me? Whom have I seen? Where have I been? What

      are my heart's experiences?'

      'My dear Louisa,' returned Mr. Gradgrind, reassured and satisfied.

      'You correct me justly. I merely wished to discharge my duty.'

      'What do I know, father,' said Louisa in her quiet manner, 'of

      tastes and fancies; of aspirations and affections; of all that part

      of my nature in which such light things might have been nourished?

      What escape have I had from problems that could be demonstrated,

      and realities that could be grasped?' As she said it, she

      unconsciously closed her hand, as if upon a solid object, and

      slowly opened it as though she were releasing dust or ash.

      'My dear,' assented her eminently practical parent, 'quite true,

      quite true.'

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      Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

      'Why, father,' she pursued, 'what a strange question to ask me!

      The baby-preference that even I have heard of as common among

      children, has never had its innocent resting-place in my breast.

      You have been so careful of me, that I never had a child's heart.

      You have trained me so well, that I never dreamed a child's dream.

      You have dealt so wisely with me, father, from my cradle to this

      hour, that I never had a child's belief or a child's fear.'

      Mr. Gradgrind was quite moved by his success, and by this testimony

      to it. 'My dear Louisa,' said he, 'you abundantly repay my care.

      Kiss me, my dear girl.'

      So, his daughter kissed him. Detaining her in his embrace, he

      said, 'I may assure you now, my favourite child, that I am made

      happy by the sound decision at which you have arrived. Mr.

      Bounderby is a very remarkable man; and what little disparity can

      be said to exist between you - if any - is more than

      counterbalanced by the tone your mind has acquired. It has always

      been my object so to educate you, as that you might, while still in

      your early youth, be (if I may so express myself) almost any age.

      Kiss me once more, Louisa. Now, let us go and find your mother.'

      Accordingly, they went down to the drawing-room, where the esteemed

      lady with no nonsense about her, was recumbent as usual, while

      Sissy worked beside her. She gave some feeble signs of returning

      animation when they entered, and presently the faint transparency

      was presented in a sitting attitude.

      'Mrs. Gradgrind,' said her husband, who had waited for the

      achievement of this feat with some impatience, 'allow me to present

      to you Mrs. Bounderby.'

      'Oh!' said Mrs. Gradgrind, 'so you have settled it! Well, I'm sure

      I hope your health may be good, Louisa; for if your head begins to

      split as soon as you are married, which was the case with mine, I

      cannot consider that you are to be envied, though I have no doubt

      you think you are, as all girls do. However, I give you joy, my

      dear - and I hope you may now turn all your ological studies to

      good account, I am sure I do! I must give you a kiss
    of

      congratulation, Louisa; but don't touch my right shoulder, for

      there's something running down it all day long. And now you see,'

      whimpered Mrs. Gradgrind, adjusting her shawls after the

      affectionate ceremony, 'I shall be worrying myself, morning, noon,

      and night, to know what I am to call him!'

      'Mrs. Gradgrind,' said her husband, solemnly, 'what do you mean?'

      'Whatever I am to call him, Mr. Gradgrind, when he is married to

      Louisa! I must call him something. It's impossible,' said Mrs.

      Gradgrind, with a mingled sense of politeness and injury, 'to be

      constantly addressing him and never giving him a name. I cannot

      call him Josiah, for the name is insupportable to me. You yourself

      wouldn't hear of Joe, you very well know. Am I to call my own sonin-

      law, Mister! Not, I believe, unless the time has arrived when,

      as an invalid, I am to be trampled upon by my relations. Then,

      what am I to call him!'

      Nobody present having any suggestion to offer in the remarkable

      emergency, Mrs. Gradgrind departed this life for the time being,

      after delivering the following codicil to her remarks already

      executed:

      'As to the wedding, all I ask, Louisa, is, - and I ask it with a

      fluttering in my chest, which actually extends to the soles of my

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      Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

      feet, - that it may take place soon. Otherwise, I know it is one

      of those subjects I shall never hear the last of.'

      When Mr. Gradgrind had presented Mrs. Bounderby, Sissy had suddenly

      turned her head, and looked, in wonder, in pity, in sorrow, in

      doubt, in a multitude of emotions, towards Louisa. Louisa had

      known it, and seen it, without looking at her. From that moment

      she was impassive, proud and cold - held Sissy at a distance -

      changed to her altogether.

      CHAPTER XVI - HUSBAND AND WIFE

      MR. BOUNDERBY'S first disquietude on hearing of his happiness, was

      occasioned by the necessity of imparting it to Mrs. Sparsit. He

      could not make up his mind how to do that, or what the consequences

      of the step might be. Whether she would instantly depart, bag and

      baggage, to Lady Scadgers, or would positively refuse to budge from

      the premises; whether she would be plaintive or abusive, tearful or

      tearing; whether she would break her heart, or break the lookingglass;

      Mr. Bounderby could not all foresee. However, as it must be

      done, he had no choice but to do it; so, after attempting several

      letters, and failing in them all, he resolved to do it by word of

      mouth.

      On his way home, on the evening he set aside for this momentous

      purpose, he took the precaution of stepping into a chemist's shop

      and buying a bottle of the very strongest smelling-salts. 'By

      George!' said Mr. Bounderby, 'if she takes it in the fainting way,

      I'll have the skin off her nose, at all events!' But, in spite of

      being thus forearmed, he entered his own house with anything but a

      courageous air; and appeared before the object of his misgivings,

      like a dog who was conscious of coming direct from the pantry.

      'Good evening, Mr. Bounderby!'

      'Good evening, ma'am, good evening.' He drew up his chair, and

      Mrs. Sparsit drew back hers, as who should say, 'Your fireside,

      sir. I freely admit it. It is for you to occupy it all, if you

      think proper.'

      'Don't go to the North Pole, ma'am!' said Mr. Bounderby.

      'Thank you, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, and returned, though short of

      her former position.

      Mr. Bounderby sat looking at her, as, with the points of a stiff,

      sharp pair of scissors, she picked out holes for some inscrutable

      ornamental purpose, in a piece of cambric. An operation which,

      taken in connexion with the bushy eyebrows and the Roman nose,

      suggested with some liveliness the idea of a hawk engaged upon the

      eyes of a tough little bird. She was so steadfastly occupied, that

      many minutes elapsed before she looked up from her work; when she

      did so Mr. Bounderby bespoke her attention with a hitch of his

      head.

      'Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby, putting his hands in his

      pockets, and assuring himself with his right hand that the cork of

      the little bottle was ready for use, 'I have no occasion to say to

      you, that you are not only a lady born and bred, but a devilish

      sensible woman.'

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      Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

      'Sir,' returned the lady, 'this is indeed not the first time that

      you have honoured me with similar expressions of your good

      opinion.'

      'Mrs. Sparsit, ma'am,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'I am going to astonish

      you.'

      'Yes, sir?' returned Mrs. Sparsit, interrogatively, and in the most

      tranquil manner possible. She generally wore mittens, and she now

      laid down her work, and smoothed those mittens.

      'I am going, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'to marry Tom Gradgrind's

      daughter.'

      'Yes, sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit. 'I hope you may be happy, Mr.

      Bounderby. Oh, indeed I hope you may be happy, sir!' And she said

      it with such great condescension as well as with such great

      compassion for him, that Bounderby, - far more disconcerted than if

      she had thrown her workbox at the mirror, or swooned on the

      hearthrug, - corked up the smelling-salts tight in his pocket, and

      thought, 'Now confound this woman, who could have even guessed that

      she would take it in this way!'

      'I wish with all my heart, sir,' said Mrs. Sparsit, in a highly

      superior manner; somehow she seemed, in a moment, to have

      established a right to pity him ever afterwards; 'that you may be

      in all respects very happy.'

      'Well, ma'am,' returned Bounderby, with some resentment in his

      tone: which was clearly lowered, though in spite of himself, 'I am

      obliged to you. I hope I shall be.'

      'Do you, sir!' said Mrs. Sparsit, with great affability. 'But

      naturally you do; of course you do.'

      A very awkward pause on Mr. Bounderby's part, succeeded. Mrs.

      Sparsit sedately resumed her work and occasionally gave a small

      cough, which sounded like the cough of conscious strength and

      forbearance.

      'Well, ma'am,' resumed Bounderby, 'under these circumstances, I

      imagine it would not be agreeable to a character like yours to

      remain here, though you would be very welcome here.'

      'Oh, dear no, sir, I could on no account think of that!' Mrs.

      Sparsit shook her head, still in her highly superior manner, and a

      little changed the small cough - coughing now, as if the spirit of

      prophecy rose within her, but had better be coughed down.

      'However, ma'am,' said Bounderby, 'there are apartments at the

      Bank, where a born and bred lady, as keeper of the place, would be

      rather a catch than otherwise; and if the same terms - '

      'I beg your pardon, sir. You were so good as to promise that you

      would always substitute the phrase, annual compliment.'

      'Well, ma'am, annual compliment. If the same annual compliment

      would be acceptable there, why, I see nothing to part us, unless

      you
    do.'

      'Sir,' returned Mrs. Sparsit. 'The proposal is like yourself, and

      if the position I shall assume at the Bank is one that I could

      occupy without descending lower in the social scale - '

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      Dickens, Charles - Hard Times

      'Why, of course it is,' said Bounderby. 'If it was not, ma'am, you

      don't suppose that I should offer it to a lady who has moved in the

      society you have moved in. Not that I care for such society, you

      know! But you do.'

      'Mr. Bounderby, you are very considerate.'

      'You'll have your own private apartments, and you'll have your

      coals and your candles, and all the rest of it, and you'll have

      your maid to attend upon you, and you'll have your light porter to

      protect you, and you'll be what I take the liberty of considering

      precious comfortable,' said Bounderby.

      'Sir,' rejoined Mrs. Sparsit, 'say no more. In yielding up my

      trust here, I shall not be freed from the necessity of eating the

      bread of dependence:' she might have said the sweetbread, for that

      delicate article in a savoury brown sauce was her favourite supper:

      'and I would rather receive it from your hand, than from any other.

      Therefore, sir, I accept your offer gratefully, and with many

      sincere acknowledgments for past favours. And I hope, sir,' said

      Mrs. Sparsit, concluding in an impressively compassionate manner,

      'I fondly hope that Miss Gradgrind may be all you desire, and

      deserve!'

      Nothing moved Mrs. Sparsit from that position any more. It was in

      vain for Bounderby to bluster or to assert himself in any of his

      explosive ways; Mrs. Sparsit was resolved to have compassion on

      him, as a Victim. She was polite, obliging, cheerful, hopeful;

      but, the more polite, the more obliging, the more cheerful, the

      more hopeful, the more exemplary altogether, she; the forlorner

      Sacrifice and Victim, he. She had that tenderness for his

      melancholy fate, that his great red countenance used to break out

      into cold perspirations when she looked at him.

      Meanwhile the marriage was appointed to be solemnized in eight

      weeks' time, and Mr. Bounderby went every evening to Stone Lodge as

      an accepted wooer. Love was made on these occasions in the form of

      bracelets; and, on all occasions during the period of betrothal,

      took a manufacturing aspect. Dresses were made, jewellery was

      made, cakes and gloves were made, settlements were made, and an

     


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