Then says he, lifting up his eyebrows in the gayest way, 'It's no use mentioning a fypunnote to me, my friend, because I'm a mere child in such matters and have no idea of money.'

Then says he, lifting up his eyebrows in the gayest way, 'I'm a mere child in such matters, my friend, and have no idea of money.'


Of course I understood what his taking it so easy meant; and being now quite sure he was the man for me, I wrapped the note round a little stone and threw it up to him.

Being now quite sure he was the man for me, I wrapped the note round a little stone and threw it up to him.


He laughs and beams, and looks as innocent as you like, and says, 'But I don't know the value of these things.


'But I shall be taken in,' he says, 'they won't give me the right change, I shall lose it, it's no use to me.'


Lord, you never saw such a face as he carried it with!


Of course he told me where to find Toughey, and I found him."


I regarded this as very treacherous on the part of Mr. Skimpole towards my guardian and as passing the usual bounds of his childish innocence.

I regarded this as very treacherous of Mr. Skimpole.


"Bounds, my dear?" returned Mr. Bucket. "Bounds? Now, Miss Summerson, I'll give you a piece of advice that your husband will find useful when you are happily married and have got a family about you.

"Miss Summerson, I'll give you a piece of advice," returned Mr. Bucket.


Whenever a person says to you that they are as innocent as can be in all concerning money, look well after your own money, for they are dead certain to collar it if they can.

"Whenever a person says to you that they are innocent concerning money, look well after your own money, for they are dead certain to collar it if they can.


Whenever a person proclaims to you 'In worldly matters I'm a child,' you consider that that person is only a-crying off from being held accountable and that you have got that person's number, and it's Number One.

Whenever a person proclaims to you 'In worldly matters I'm a child,' consider that that person is only a-crying off from being held accountable and that you have got that person's number, and it's Number One.


Now, I am not a poetical man myself, except in a vocal way when it goes round a company, but I'm a practical one, and that's my experience.


Fast and loose in one thing, fast and loose in everything.


With which caution to the unwary, my dear, I take the liberty of pulling this here bell, and so go back to our business."

With which caution, my dear, I take the liberty of pulling this here bell, and so go back to our business."


I believe it had not been for a moment out of his mind, any more than it had been out of my mind, or out of his face.


The whole household were amazed to see me, without any notice, at that time in the morning, and so accompanied; and their surprise was not diminished by my inquiries.

The whole household were amazed to see me at that time in the morning; and their surprise was not diminished by my inquiries.


It could not be doubted that this was the truth.


"Then, Miss Summerson," said my companion, "we can't be too soon at the cottage where those brickmakers are to be found.


Most inquiries there I leave to you, if you'll be so good as to make 'em.


The naturalest way is the best way, and the naturalest way is your own way."

The naturalest way is the best way, and your own way."


On arriving at the cottage, we found it shut up and apparently deserted, but one of the neighbours who knew me and who came out when I was trying to make some one hear informed me that the two women and their husbands now lived together in another house, made of loose rough bricks, which stood on the margin of the piece of ground where the kilns were and where the long rows of bricks were drying.

On arriving at the cottage, we found it shut up and apparently deserted, but one of the neighbours who knew me came out and informed me that the two women and their husbands now lived together in another house near the ground where the kilns were and where the long rows of bricks were drying.


We lost no time in repairing to this place, which was within a few hundred yards; and as the door stood ajar, I pushed it open.

We found this place a few hundred yards away; and as the door stood ajar, I pushed it open.


There were only three of them sitting at breakfast, the child lying asleep on a bed in the corner.


It was Jenny, the mother of the dead child, who was absent.


The other woman rose on seeing me; and the men, though they were, as usual, sulky and silent, each gave me a morose nod of recognition.

The other woman rose on seeing me; and the men, though they were sulky and silent, gave me morose nods of recognition.


A look passed between them when Mr. Bucket followed me in, and I was surprised to see that the woman evidently knew him.

I was surprised to see that the woman evidently knew Mr. Bucket.


Liz (the only name by which I knew her) rose to give me her own chair, but I sat down on a stool near the fire, and Mr. Bucket took a corner of the bedstead.


Now that I had to speak and was among people with whom I was not familiar, I became conscious of being hurried and giddy.

Now that I had to speak, I became conscious of feeling hurried and giddy.


It was very difficult to begin, and I could not help bursting into tears.


"Liz," said I, "I have come a long way in the night and through the snow to inquire after a lady--"

"Liz," said I, "I have come a long way in the night and through the snow to inquire after a lady-"


"Who has been here, you know," Mr. Bucket struck in, addressing the whole group with a composed propitiatory face; "that's the lady the young lady means.

"Who has been here, you know," Mr. Bucket struck in.


"The lady that was here last night, you know."


"And who told YOU as there was anybody here?"

"And who told you as there was anybody here?"


inquired Jenny's husband, who had made a surly stop in his eating to listen and now measured him with his eye.


"A person of the name of Michael Jackson, with a blue welveteen waistcoat with a double row of mother of pearl buttons," Mr. Bucket immediately answered.

"A person called Jackson, with a blue welveteen waistcoat with a double row of mother of pearl buttons," Mr. Bucket answered.


"He had as good mind his own business, whoever he is," growled the man.

"He had better mind his own business, whoever he is," growled the man.


"He's out of employment, I believe," said Mr. Bucket apologetically for Michael Jackson, "and so gets talking."


The woman had not resumed her chair, but stood faltering with her hand upon its broken back, looking at me.

The woman stood faltering, looking at me.


I thought she would have spoken to me privately if she had dared.


She was still in this attitude of uncertainty when her husband, who was eating with a lump of bread and fat in one hand and his clasp-knife in the other, struck the handle of his knife violently on the table and told her with an oath to mind HER own business at any rate and sit down.

She was still in this attitude of uncertainty when her husband, who was eating with a lump of bread in one hand and his clasp-knife in the other, struck the knife violently on the table and told her with an oath to mind her own business and sit down.


"I should like to have seen Jenny very much," said I, "for I am sure she would have told me all she could about this lady, whom I am very anxious indeed--you cannot think how anxious--to overtake.

"I should like to have seen Jenny very much," said I, "for I am sure she would have told me all she could about this lady, whom I am very anxious indeed to overtake.


The woman had a great desire to answer, but the man, with another oath, openly kicked at her foot with his heavy boot.

The woman had a great desire to answer, but the man, with an oath, openly kicked at her foot with his heavy boot.


He left it to Jenny's husband to say what he chose, and after a dogged silence the latter turned his shaggy head towards me.

After a dogged silence Jenny's husband turned his shaggy head towards me.


"I'm not partial to gentlefolks coming into my place, as you've heerd me say afore now, I think, miss.

"I'm not partial to gentlefolks coming into my place, miss.


I let their places be, and it's curious they can't let my place be.


There'd be a pretty shine made if I was to go a-wisitin THEM, I think.


Howsoever, I don't so much complain of you as of some others, and I'm agreeable to make you a civil answer, though I give notice that I'm not a-going to be drawed like a badger.

However, I'm agreeable to make you a civil answer.


"She went last night," he answered with a sulky jerk of his head.


I beg and pray you to be so kind as to tell me," said I, "for I am in great distress to know."


"If my master would let me speak, and not say a word of harm--" the woman timidly began.

"If my master would let me speak, and not say a word of harm-" the woman timidly began.


"Your master," said her husband, muttering an imprecation with slow emphasis, "will break your neck if you meddle with wot don't concern you."

"Your master," said her husband with slow emphasis, "will break your neck if you meddle with wot don't concern you."


After another silence, the husband of the absent woman, turning to me again, answered me with his usual grumbling unwillingness.

After another silence, Jenny's husband said,


"Wos Jenny here when the lady come? Yes, she wos here when the lady come.

"Yes, Jenny was here when the lady come.


Well, I'll tell you wot the lady said to her.


She said, 'You remember me as come one time to talk to you about the young lady as had been a-wisiting of you?

The lady said, 'You remember me as come one time to talk to you about the young lady as had been a-wisiting of you?


You remember me as give you somethink handsome for a handkercher wot she had left?'

You remember I gave you somethink handsome for a handkercher wot she had left?'


Well, then, wos that young lady up at the house now?


Well, then, lookee here. The lady was upon a journey all alone, strange as we might think it, and could she rest herself where you're a setten for a hour or so.

Well, then, could the lady rest herself for a hour or so.


Then she went--it might be at twenty minutes past eleven, and it might be at twenty minutes past twelve; we ain't got no watches here to know the time by, nor yet clocks.

Then she went - it might be at twenty minutes past eleven, and it might be at twenty minutes past twelve; we ain't got no watches here to know the time by.


She went one way, and Jenny went another; one went right to Lunnun, and t'other went right from it.


The other man repeated, "That's all about it."


"Her shoes was the worse, and her clothes was the worse, but she warn't--not as I see."


The woman sat with her arms crossed and her eyes upon the ground.

The woman sat with her eyes upon the ground.


Her husband had turned his seat a little so as to face her and kept his hammer-like hand upon the table as if it were in readiness to execute his threat if she disobeyed him.

Her husband had kept his hammer-like hand upon the table as if ready to execute his threat if she disobeyed him.


"I hope you will not object to my asking your wife," said I, "how the lady looked."


She answered, looking all the while at her husband for leave.

She answered, looking all the while at her husband for permission.


"She had a little water, miss, and Jenny fetched her some bread and tea.


"And when she went from here," I was proceeding, when Jenny's husband impatiently took me up.


"When she went from here, she went right away nor'ard by the high road.

"When she went from here, she went right away north by the high road.


Ask on the road if you doubt me, and see if it warn't so.


I glanced at my companion, and finding that he had already risen and was ready to depart, thanked them for what they had told me, and took my leave.

I glanced at my companion, and finding that he had already risen to depart, thanked them, and took my leave.


The woman looked full at Mr. Bucket as he went out, and he looked full at her.


"Now, Miss Summerson," he said to me as we walked quickly away.


"They've got her ladyship's watch among 'em.


"Else why should he talk about his 'twenty minutes past' and about his having no watch to tell the time by?

"Else why should he talk about his 'twenty minutes past' and about his having no watch?


He don't usually cut his time so fine as that.


If he comes to half-hours, it's as much as HE does.


Now, you see, either her ladyship gave him that watch or he took it.


He repeated this question to himself several times as we hurried on, appearing to balance between a variety of answers that arose in his mind.

He repeated this question to himself several times as we hurried on.


"If time could be spared," said Mr. Bucket, "which is the only thing that can't be spared in this case, I might get it out of that woman; but it's too doubtful a chance to trust to under present circumstances. They are up to keeping a close eye upon her, and any fool knows that a poor creetur like her, beaten and kicked and scarred and bruised from head to foot, will stand by the husband that ill uses her through thick and thin.

"If time could be spared," said Mr. Bucket, "which it can't, I might get it out of that woman; but they are keeping a close eye upon her, and a poor creetur like her, though beaten and kicked and bruised from head to foot, will stand by the husband that ill uses her through thick and thin.


It's a pity but what we had seen the other woman."

It's a pity we didn't see the other woman."


I regretted it exceedingly, for she was very grateful, and I felt sure would have resisted no entreaty of mine.


"It's possible, Miss Summerson," said Mr. Bucket, pondering on it, "that her ladyship sent her up to London with some word for you, and it's possible that her husband got the watch to let her go.

"It's possible, Miss Summerson," said Mr. Bucket, pondering on it, "that her ladyship sent her to London with some word for you, and it's possible that her husband got the watch to let her go.


It don't come out altogether so plain as to please me, but it's on the cards.

It's not so plain as to please me, but it's possible.


Now, I don't take kindly to laying out the money of Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, on these roughs, and I don't see my way to the usefulness of it at present.

Now, I don't take kindly to laying out the money of Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet, on these roughs, and I don't see the usefulness of it at present.


So far our road, Miss Summerson, is for'ard--straight ahead--and keeping everything quiet!"

So far our road, Miss Summerson, is straight ahead!"


We called at home once more that I might send a hasty note to my guardian, and then we hurried back to where we had left the carriage. The horses were brought out as soon as we were seen coming, and we were on the road again in a few minutes.

We called home once more so that I might send a hasty note to my guardian, and then we hurried back to the carriage, and were soon on the road again.


It had set in snowing at daybreak, and it now snowed hard.


The air was so thick with the darkness of the day and the density of the fall that we could see but a very little way in any direction.

We could see only a very little way in any direction.


Although it was extremely cold, the snow was but partially frozen, and it churned--with a sound as if it were a beach of small shells--under the hoofs of the horses into mire and water.

Although it was extremely cold, the snow was but partially frozen, and it churned - with a sound as if it were a beach of small shells - under the hoofs of the horses into mire and water.


They sometimes slipped and floundered for a mile together, and we were obliged to come to a standstill to rest them.

They sometimes slipped and floundered until we were obliged to stop to rest them.


One horse fell three times in this first stage, and trembled so and was so shaken that the driver had to dismount from his saddle and lead him at last.

One horse fell three times in this first stage, and trembled so that the driver had to dismount from his saddle and lead him.


I could eat nothing and could not sleep, and I grew so nervous under those delays and the slow pace at which we travelled that I had an unreasonable desire upon me to get out and walk.

I could eat nothing and could not sleep, and I grew so nervous at these delays that I had an unreasonable desire to get out and walk.


Yielding to my companion's better sense, however, I remained where I was.


All this time, kept fresh by a certain enjoyment of the work in which he was engaged, he was up and down at every house we came to, addressing people whom he had never beheld before as old acquaintances, running in to warm himself at every fire he saw, talking and drinking and shaking hands at every bar and tap, friendly with every waggoner, wheelwright, blacksmith, and toll-taker, yet never seeming to lose time, and always mounting to the box again with his watchful, steady face and his business-like "Get on, my lad!"

All this time he was up and down at every house we came to, addressing people whom he had never beheld before as old acquaintances, running in to warm himself at every fire, talking and drinking and shaking hands at every bar and tap, friendly with every waggoner, wheelwright, blacksmith, and toll-taker, always mounting to the box again with his watchful, steady face and his "Get on, my lad!"


When we were changing horses the next time, he came from the stable-yard, with the wet snow encrusted upon him and dropping off him--plashing and crashing through it to his wet knees as he had been doing frequently since we left Saint Albans--and spoke to me at the carriage side.

At the next change of horses he came from the stable-yard, with the wet snow encrusted upon him, and spoke to me at the carriage side.


It's certainly true that she came on here, Miss Summerson.

It's certainly true that she came here, Miss Summerson.


There's not a doubt of the dress by this time, and the dress has been seen here."

There's not a doubt of the dress, and the dress has been seen here."


I think the gentleman you mentioned must be the point she's aiming at, and yet I don't like his living down in her own part of the country neither."

I think the Mr. Boythorn you mentioned must be the point she's aiming at, and yet I don't like his living in her own part of the country."


"There may be some one else nearer here, of whom I never heard."


But whatever you do, don't you fall a-crying, my dear; and don't you worry yourself no more than you can help.

But whatever you do, don't you fall a-crying, my dear; and don't you worry no more than you can help.


The sleet fell all that day unceasingly, a thick mist came on early, and it never rose or lightened for a moment.

The sleet fell all that day unceasingly and thick mist came on early.


I sometimes feared we had missed the way and got into the ploughed grounds or the marshes.


If I ever thought of the time I had been out, it presented itself as an indefinite period of great duration, and I seemed, in a strange way, never to have been free from the anxiety under which I then laboured.

It felt as if we had been out for a very long time, and I seemed, in a strange way, never to have been free from the anxiety under which I then laboured.


As we advanced, I began to feel misgivings that my companion lost confidence.


He was the same as before with all the roadside people, but he looked graver when he sat by himself on the box.

He looked graver when he sat by himself on the box.


I saw his finger uneasily going across and across his mouth during the whole of one long weary stage.


I overheard that he began to ask the drivers of coaches and other vehicles coming towards us what passengers they had seen in other coaches and vehicles that were in advance.

I overheard him asking the drivers of coaches coming towards us what passengers they had passed.


He always gave me a reassuring beck of his finger and lift of his eyelid as he got upon the box again, but he seemed perplexed now when he said, "Get on, my lad!"

He always gave me a reassuring lift of his eyelid as he got upon the box again, but he seemed perplexed now when he said, "Get on, my lad!"


At last, when we were changing, he told me that he had lost the track of the dress so long that he began to be surprised.

At last he told me that he had lost the track of the dress so long that he began to be surprised.


It was nothing, he said, to lose such a track for one while, and to take it up for another while, and so on; but it had disappeared here in an unaccountable manner, and we had not come upon it since.

It had disappeared in an unaccountable manner.


This corroborated the apprehensions I had formed, when he began to look at direction-posts, and to leave the carriage at cross roads for a quarter of an hour at a time while he explored them.


But I was not to be down-hearted, he told me, for it was as likely as not that the next stage might set us right again.


The next stage, however, ended as that one ended; we had no new clue.

The next stage, however, ended with no new clue.


There was a spacious inn here, solitary, but a comfortable substantial building, and as we drove in under a large gateway before I knew it, where a landlady and her pretty daughters came to the carriage-door, entreating me to alight and refresh myself while the horses were making ready, I thought it would be uncharitable to refuse.

There was a spacious inn here, a comfortable substantial building, and as we drove in under a large gateway a landlady and her pretty daughters came to the carriage-door, entreating me to alight and refresh myself while the horses were made ready.


They took me upstairs to a warm room and left me there.


It was at the corner of the house, I remember, looking two ways. On one side to a stable-yard open to a by-road, where the ostlers were unharnessing the splashed and tired horses from the muddy carriage, and beyond that to the by-road itself, across which the sign was heavily swinging; on the other side to a wood of dark pine-trees.

It was at the corner of the house, I remember, looking two ways: on one side to a stable-yard with the road beyond it; on the other side to a wood of dark pine-trees.


Their branches were encumbered with snow, and it silently dropped off in wet heaps while I stood at the window.


Night was setting in, and its bleakness was enhanced by the contrast of the pictured fire glowing and gleaming in the window-pane.


As I looked among the stems of the trees and followed the discoloured marks in the snow where the thaw was sinking into it and undermining it, I thought of the motherly face brightly set off by daughters that had just now welcomed me and of MY mother lying down in such a wood to die.

As I looked among the stems of the trees, I thought of the motherly face that had just now welcomed me with her daughters and of my mother lying down in such a wood to die.


I was frightened when I found them all about me, but I remembered that before I fainted I tried very hard not to do it; and that was some little comfort.

I was frightened when I found them all around me, but I remembered that before I fainted I tried very hard not to do it.


They cushioned me up on a large sofa by the fire, and then the comely landlady told me that I must travel no further to-night, but must go to bed.

They cushioned me up on a large sofa by the fire, and the landlady told me that I must travel no further tonight, but must go to bed.


But this put me into such a tremble lest they should detain me there that she soon recalled her words and compromised for a rest of half an hour.

But this put me into such a tremble lest they should detain me there that she compromised for a rest of half an hour.


A good endearing creature she was. She and her three fair girls, all so busy about me.

A good endearing creature she was; she and her three girls, all busy about me.


I was to take hot soup and broiled fowl, while Mr. Bucket dried himself and dined elsewhere; but I could not do it when a snug round table was presently spread by the fireside, though I was very unwilling to disappoint them.

I was to take hot soup and broiled fowl, while Mr. Bucket dried himself and dined elsewhere; but when it was brought to me I could not eat, though I was very unwilling to disappoint them.


However, I could take some toast and some hot negus, and as I really enjoyed that refreshment, it made some recompense.

However, I could take some toast and hot wine-and-water, which made some recompense.


Punctual to the time, at the half-hour's end the carriage came rumbling under the gateway, and they took me down, warmed, refreshed, comforted by kindness, and safe (I assured them) not to faint any more.

At the half-hour's end the carriage came rumbling under the gateway, and they took me down, warmed, refreshed, and comforted by kindness.


After I had got in and had taken a grateful leave of them all, the youngest daughter--a blooming girl of nineteen, who was to be the first married, they had told me--got upon the carriage step, reached in, and kissed me.

After I had got in and had taken a grateful leave of them all, the youngest daughter reached in, and kissed me.


I have never seen her, from that hour, but I think of her to this hour as my friend.

I have never seen her since then, but I think of her to this hour as my friend.


The transparent windows with the fire and light, looking so bright and warm from the cold darkness out of doors, were soon gone, and again we were crushing and churning the loose snow.

The fire-lit windows, looking so bright and warm from outside, were soon gone, and again we were crushing and churning the loose snow.


We went on with toil enough, but the dismal roads were not much worse than they had been, and the stage was only nine miles. My companion smoking on the box--I had thought at the last inn of begging him to do so when I saw him standing at a great fire in a comfortable cloud of tobacco--was as vigilant as ever and as quickly down and up again when we came to any human abode or any human creature.

The stage was only nine miles; and my companion was as vigilant as ever and as quickly down and up again when we came to any house or person.


He had lighted his little dark lantern, which seemed to be a favourite with him, for we had lamps to the carriage; and every now and then he turned it upon me to see that I was doing well.

He had lighted his lantern, and every now and then he turned it upon me to see that I was doing well.


There was a folding-window to the carriage-head, but I never closed it, for it seemed like shutting out hope.


We came to the end of the stage, and still the lost trace was not recovered.


I looked at him anxiously when we stopped to change, but I knew by his yet graver face as he stood watching the ostlers that he had heard nothing.

I looked at him anxiously when we stopped to change, but I knew by his grave face that he had heard nothing.


Almost in an instant afterwards, as I leaned back in my seat, he looked in, with his lighted lantern in his hand, an excited and quite different man.

An instant afterwards, as I leaned back in my seat, he looked in, with his lantern in his hand, an excited and quite different man.


"No, no. Don't deceive yourself, my dear.


The crystallized snow was in his eyelashes, in his hair, lying in ridges on his dress.

The crystallized snow was in his eyelashes and his hair.


He had to shake it from his face and get his breath before he spoke to me.

He had to shake it from his face before he spoke.


"Now, Miss Summerson," said he, beating his finger on the apron, "don't you be disappointed at what I'm a-going to do.

"Now, Miss Summerson," said he, "don't you be disappointed at what I'm a-going to do.


I'm Inspector Bucket, and you can trust me.


Four horses out there for the next stage up!


There was a commotion in the yard, and a man came running out of the stables to know if he meant up or down.

A man came running out of the stables to know if he meant up or down.


"Miss Summerson," he answered, "back. Straight back as a die.

"Miss Summerson," he answered, "straight back as a die.


Bring those two pair out here for a crown a man.


"You will not desert this lady we are in search of; you will not abandon her on such a night and in such a state of mind as I know her to be in!"

"You will not desert the lady we are in search of; you will not abandon her on such a night and in such a state of mind!"


said I, in an agony, and grasping his hand.


Send a man for'ard in the saddle to the next stage, and let him send another for'ard again, and order four on, up, right through.


These orders and the way in which he ran about the yard urging them caused a general excitement that was scarcely less bewildering to me than the sudden change.


But in the height of the confusion, a mounted man galloped away to order the relays, and our horses were put to with great speed.

But our horses were put to with great speed.


"My dear," said Mr. Bucket, jumping to his seat and looking in again, "--you'll excuse me if I'm too familiar--don't you fret and worry yourself no more than you can help.

"My dear," said Mr. Bucket, looking in again, "don't you fret and worry yourself.


I say nothing else at present; but you know me, my dear; now, don't you?"

I say nothing else at present; but you know me, my dear, don't you?"


I endeavoured to say that I knew he was far more capable than I of deciding what we ought to do, but was he sure that this was right?

I tried to say that he was far more capable than I of deciding what we ought to do, but was he sure that this was right?


Could I not go forward by myself in search of--I grasped his hand again in my distress and whispered it to him--of my own mother.

Could I not go forward by myself in search of - I grasped his hand again in my distress and whispered - of my own mother?


"My dear," he answered, "I know, I know, and would I put you wrong, do you think?

"My dear," he answered, "would I put you wrong, do you think?


"Then you keep up as good a heart as you can, and you rely upon me for standing by you, no less than by Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet.

You keep up as good a heart as you can, and rely upon me for standing by you.


We were again upon the melancholy road by which we had come, tearing up the miry sleet and thawing snow as if they were torn up by a waterwheel.

We were again upon the melancholy road by which we had come, tearing up the miry sleet and thawing snow like a waterwheel.


Sir Leicester Dedlock has got the better, for the time being, of the family gout and is once more, in a literal no less than in a figurative point of view, upon his legs.

Sir Leicester Dedlock has got the better, for the time being, of the family gout and is once more upon his legs.


He is at his place in Lincolnshire; but the waters are out again on the low-lying grounds, and the cold and damp steal into Chesney Wold, though well defended, and eke into Sir Leicester's bones.

He is at his place in Lincolnshire; but the waters lie again on the low grounds, and the cold and damp steal into Chesney Wold, and into Sir Leicester's bones.


The blazing fires of faggot and coal--Dedlock timber and antediluvian forest--that blaze upon the broad wide hearths and wink in the twilight on the frowning woods, sullen to see how trees are sacrificed, do not exclude the enemy.

The blazing fires do not exclude the enemy.


The hot-water pipes that trail themselves all over the house, the cushioned doors and windows, and the screens and curtains fail to supply the fires' deficiencies and to satisfy Sir Leicester's need.

The hot-water pipes that trail themselves all over the house, the cushioned doors and windows, and the screens and curtains fail to satisfy Sir Leicester's need.


Hence the fashionable intelligence proclaims one morning to the listening earth that Lady Dedlock is expected shortly to return to town for a few weeks.

Hence Lady Dedlock is expected shortly to return to town for a few weeks.


It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations. Indeed great men have often more than their fair share of poor relations, inasmuch as very red blood of the superior quality, like inferior blood unlawfully shed, WILL cry aloud and WILL be heard.

It is a melancholy truth that even great men have their poor relations; often more than their fair share.


Sir Leicester's cousins, in the remotest degree, are so many murders in the respect that they "will out." Among whom there are cousins who are so poor that one might almost dare to think it would have been the happier for them never to have been plated links upon the Dedlock chain of gold, but to have been made of common iron at first and done base service.

Amongst Sir Leicester's cousins are those who are so poor that one might almost think it would have been happier for them never to have been links upon the Dedlock chain of gold, but to have been made of common iron from the start and been of service.


Service, however (with a few limited reservations, genteel but not profitable), they may not do, being of the Dedlock dignity.

Service, however, they may not do, being of the Dedlock dignity.


So they visit their richer cousins, and get into debt when they can, and live but shabbily when they can't, and find--the women no husbands, and the men no wives--and ride in borrowed carriages, and sit at feasts that are never of their own making, and so go through high life.

So they visit their richer cousins, and get into debt when they can, and live shabbily when they can't, and ride in borrowed carriages, and sit at other people's feasts.


The rich family sum has been divided by so many figures, and they are the something over that nobody knows what to do with.


Everybody on Sir Leicester Dedlock's side of the question and of his way of thinking would appear to be his cousin more or less.


From my Lord Boodle, through the Duke of Foodle, down to Noodle, Sir Leicester, like a glorious spider, stretches his threads of relationship.

Sir Leicester, like a glorious spider, stretches his threads of relationship to countless cousins.


But while he is stately in the cousinship of the Everybodys, he is a kind and generous man, according to his dignified way, in the cousinship of the Nobodys; and at the present time, in despite of the damp, he stays out the visit of several such cousins at Chesney Wold with the constancy of a martyr.

But he is a kind and generous man, according to his dignified way, in the cousinship of the Nobodys; and at present, in spite of the damp, he tolerates the visit of several such cousins at Chesney Wold with the constancy of a martyr.


Of these, foremost in the front rank stands Volumnia Dedlock, a young lady (of sixty) who is doubly highly related, having the honour to be a poor relation, by the mother's side, to another great family.

Of these, foremost is Volumnia Dedlock, a young lady (of sixty) who is doubly highly related, having the honour to be a poor relation, by the mother's side, to another great family.


Miss Volumnia, displaying in early life a pretty talent for cutting ornaments out of coloured paper, and also for singing to the guitar in the Spanish tongue, and propounding French conundrums in country houses, passed the twenty years of her existence between twenty and forty in a sufficiently agreeable manner.

Miss Volumnia, displaying in early life a pretty talent for cutting ornaments out of coloured paper, and also for singing to the guitar in the Spanish tongue, and propounding French riddles in country houses, passed the years between twenty and forty in an agreeable manner.


Lapsing then out of date and being considered to bore mankind by her vocal performances in the Spanish language, she retired to Bath, where she lives slenderly on an annual present from Sir Leicester and whence she makes occasional resurrections in the country houses of her cousins.

Lapsing then out of date, she retired to Bath, where she lives slenderly on an annual present from Sir Leicester and makes occasional resurrections in the country houses of her cousins.


She has an extensive acquaintance at Bath among appalling old gentlemen with thin legs and nankeen trousers, and is of high standing in that dreary city.


But she is a little dreaded elsewhere in consequence of an indiscreet profusion in the article of rouge and persistency in an obsolete pearl necklace like a rosary of little bird's-eggs.

But she is a little dreaded elsewhere because of an indiscreet use of rouge and persistency in an old pearl necklace like a rosary of little bird's-eggs.


In any country in a wholesome state, Volumnia would be a clear case for the pension list.


Efforts have been made to get her on it, and when William Buffy came in, it was fully expected that her name would be put down for a couple of hundred a year.


But William Buffy somehow discovered, contrary to all expectation, that these were not the times when it could be done, and this was the first clear indication Sir Leicester Dedlock had conveyed to him that the country was going to pieces.


There is likewise the Honourable Bob Stables, who can make warm mashes with the skill of a veterinary surgeon and is a better shot than most gamekeepers.

There is likewise the Honourable Bob Stables, who can make warm mashes for horses with the skill of a veterinary surgeon and is a better shot than most gamekeepers.


He has been for some time particularly desirous to serve his country in a post of good emoluments, unaccompanied by any trouble or responsibility.

He has wished for some time to serve his country in a post of good salary, unaccompanied by any trouble or responsibility.


In a well-regulated body politic this natural desire on the part of a spirited young gentleman so highly connected would be speedily recognized, but somehow William Buffy found when he came in that these were not times in which he could manage that little matter either, and this was the second indication Sir Leicester Dedlock had conveyed to him that the country was going to pieces.

Somehow this has never been forthcoming.


The rest of the cousins are ladies and gentlemen of various ages and capacities, the major part amiable and sensible and likely to have done well enough in life if they could have overcome their cousinship; as it is, they are almost all a little worsted by it, and lounge in purposeless and listless paths, and seem to be quite as much at a loss how to dispose of themselves as anybody else can be how to dispose of them.

The rest of the cousins are ladies and gentlemen of various ages and capacities, mostly amiable and sensible and likely to have done well enough in life if they could have overcome their cousinship. As it is, they lounge in purposeless and listless paths, quite at a loss as to how to dispose of themselves.


In this society, and where not, my Lady Dedlock reigns supreme.

In this society my Lady Dedlock reigns supreme.


Beautiful, elegant, accomplished, and powerful in her little world (for the world of fashion does not stretch ALL the way from pole to pole), her influence in Sir Leicester's house, however haughty and indifferent her manner, is greatly to improve it and refine it.

Beautiful, elegant and accomplished, her influence in Sir Leicester's house, however haughty and indifferent her manner, is greatly to improve it and refine it.


The cousins, even those older cousins who were paralysed when Sir Leicester married her, do her feudal homage; and the Honourable Bob Stables daily repeats to some chosen person between breakfast and lunch his favourite original remark, that she is the best-groomed woman in the whole stud.

The cousins do her feudal homage; and the Honourable Bob Stables daily repeats that she is the best-groomed woman in the whole stud.


Such the guests in the long drawing-room at Chesney Wold this dismal night when the step on the Ghost's Walk (inaudible here, however) might be the step of a deceased cousin shut out in the cold.

Such are the guests in the long drawing-room at Chesney Wold this dismal night.


Bedroom fires blaze brightly all over the house, raising ghosts of grim furniture on wall and ceiling. Bedroom candlesticks bristle on the distant table by the door, and cousins yawn on ottomans.

Bedroom fires blaze brightly all over the house, bedroom candlesticks bristle on the distant table by the door, and cousins yawn on ottomans.


Cousins at the piano, cousins at the soda-water tray, cousins rising from the card-table, cousins gathered round the fire.


Standing on one side of his own peculiar fire (for there are two), Sir Leicester.


On the opposite side of the broad hearth, my Lady at her table.


Volumnia, as one of the more privileged cousins, in a luxurious chair between them. Sir Leicester glancing, with magnificent displeasure, at the rouge and the pearl necklace.

Volumnia, as one of the more privileged cousins, sits in a luxurious chair between Sir Leicester and my Lady, Sir Leicester glancing, with magnificent displeasure, at the rouge and the pearl necklace.


"I occasionally meet on my staircase here," drawls Volumnia, whose thoughts perhaps are already hopping up it to bed, after a long evening of very desultory talk, "one of the prettiest girls, I think, that I ever saw in my life."

"I occasionally meet on the staircase here," drawls Volumnia, "one of the prettiest girls, I think, that I ever saw in my life."


"A PROTEGEE of my Lady's," observes Sir Leicester.

"A protge of my Lady's," observes Sir Leicester.


I felt sure that some uncommon eye must have picked that girl out.


A dolly sort of beauty perhaps," says Miss Volumnia, reserving her own sort, "but in its way, perfect; such bloom I never saw!"


Sir Leicester, with his magnificent glance of displeasure at the rouge, appears to say so too.


"Indeed," remarks my Lady languidly, "if there is any uncommon eye in the case, it is Mrs. Rouncewell's, and not mine.

"Indeed," remarks my Lady languidly, "if there is any uncommon eye in the case, it is Mrs. Rouncewell's.


My anything; pet--secretary--messenger--I don't know what."

My pet - secretary - messenger - I don't know what."


"You like to have her about you, as you would like to have a flower, or a bird, or a picture, or a poodle--no, not a poodle, though--or anything else that was equally pretty?"

"You like to have her about you, as you would like to have a flower, or a bird, or anything else that was equally pretty?"


And how well that delightful old soul Mrs. Rouncewell is looking.


She must be an immense age, and yet she is as active and handsome!

She must be an immense age, and yet she is so active and handsome!


She is the dearest friend I have, positively!"


Sir Leicester feels it to be right and fitting that the housekeeper of Chesney Wold should be a remarkable person.

Sir Leicester feels it fitting that the housekeeper of Chesney Wold should be a remarkable person.


Apart from that, he has a real regard for Mrs. Rouncewell and likes to hear her praised.

And he has a real regard for Mrs. Rouncewell and likes to hear her praised.


So he says, "You are right, Volumnia," which Volumnia is extremely glad to hear.


"She has no daughter of her own, has she?"


My Lady, whose chronic malady of boredom has been sadly aggravated by Volumnia this evening, glances wearily towards the candlesticks and heaves a noiseless sigh.

My Lady glances wearily towards the candlesticks and heaves a noiseless sigh.


"And it is a remarkable example of the confusion into which the present age has fallen; of the obliteration of landmarks, the opening of floodgates, and the uprooting of distinctions," says Sir Leicester with stately gloom, "that I have been informed by Mr. Tulkinghorn that Mrs. Rouncewell's son has been invited to go into Parliament."

"And it is a remarkable example of the confusion into which the present age has fallen," says Sir Leicester with stately gloom, "that I have been informed by Mr. Tulkinghorn that Mrs. Rouncewell's son has been invited to go into Parliament."


Miss Volumnia utters a little sharp scream.


"He is called, I believe--an--ironmaster."

"He is called, I believe - an - ironmaster."


Sir Leicester says it slowly and with gravity and doubt, as not being sure but that he is called a lead-mistress or that the right word may be some other word expressive of some other relationship to some other metal.

Sir Leicester says it with gravity and doubt.


"He has declined the proposal, if my information from Mr. Tulkinghorn be correct, as I have no doubt it is.

"He has declined the proposal, if my information from Mr. Tulkinghorn is correct, as I have no doubt it is.


Mr. Tulkinghorn being always correct and exact; still that does not," says Sir Leicester, "that does not lessen the anomaly, which is fraught with strange considerations--startling considerations, as it appears to me."

Still," says Sir Leicester, "that does not lessen the strangeness of it."


Miss Volumnia rising with a look candlestick-wards, Sir Leicester politely performs the grand tour of the drawing-room, brings one, and lights it at my Lady's shaded lamp.

Miss Volumnia rising with a look at the candles, Sir Leicester politely brings one, and lights it at my Lady's lamp.


"I must beg you, my Lady," he says while doing so, "to remain a few moments, for this individual of whom I speak arrived this evening shortly before dinner and requested in a very becoming note"--Sir Leicester, with his habitual regard to truth, dwells upon it--"I am bound to say, in a very becoming and well-expressed note, the favour of a short interview with yourself and MYself on the subject of this young girl.

"I must beg you, my Lady," he says, "to remain a few moments, for this very man arrived this evening and requested in, I am bound to say, a very becoming note, the favour of a short interview with us both on the subject of this young girl.


As it appeared that he wished to depart to-night, I replied that we would see him before retiring."


Miss Volumnia with a third little scream takes flight, wishing her hosts--O Lud!--well rid of the--what is it?--ironmaster!

Miss Volumnia with a third little scream takes flight.


The other cousins soon disperse, to the last cousin there. Sir Leicester rings the bell, "Make my compliments to Mr. Rouncewell, in the housekeeper's apartments, and say I can receive him now."

The other cousins soon disperse, and Sir Leicester rings the bell.
"My compliments to Mr. Rouncewell, and say I can receive him now."


My Lady, who has heard all this with slight attention outwardly, looks towards Mr. Rouncewell as he comes in.

My Lady, who has heard all this with little apparent attention, looks towards Mr. Rouncewell as he comes in.


He is a little over fifty perhaps, of a good figure, like his mother, and has a clear voice, a broad forehead from which his dark hair has retired, and a shrewd though open face.

He is a little over fifty, of a good figure, like his mother, and has a clear voice, a broad forehead, and a shrewd though open face.


He is a responsible-looking gentleman dressed in black, portly enough, but strong and active.

He is a responsible-looking gentleman dressed in black, portly, but strong and active.


Has a perfectly natural and easy air and is not in the least embarrassed by the great presence into which he comes.

He has a perfectly natural air and is not in the least embarrassed by the great presence into which he comes.


"Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, as I have already apologized for intruding on you, I cannot do better than be very brief.

"Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, I apologize for intruding on you. I will be very brief."


The head of the Dedlocks has motioned towards a sofa between himself and my Lady.

The head of the Dedlocks motions him to take a seat.


Mr. Rouncewell quietly takes his seat there.


"In these busy times, when so many great undertakings are in progress, people like myself have so many workmen in so many places that we are always on the flight."

"In these busy times, people like myself have so many workmen in so many places that we are always on the move."


Sir Leicester is content enough that the ironmaster should feel that there is no hurry there; there, in that ancient house, rooted in that quiet park, where the ivy and the moss have had time to mature, and the gnarled and warted elms and the umbrageous oaks stand deep in the fern and leaves of a hundred years; and where the sun-dial on the terrace has dumbly recorded for centuries that time which was as much the property of every Dedlock--while he lasted--as the house and lands.

Sir Leicester is content enough that the ironmaster should feel that there is no hurry there, in that ancient house, rooted in that quiet park, where the elms and the shady oaks stand deep in the fern and leaves of a hundred years.


Sir Leicester sits down in an easy-chair, opposing his repose and that of Chesney Wold to the restless flights of ironmasters.

Sir Leicester sits down in an easy-chair, contrasting his repose to the restless flights of ironmasters.


"Lady Dedlock has been so kind," proceeds Mr. Rouncewell with a respectful glance and a bow that way, "as to place near her a young beauty of the name of Rosa.

"Lady Dedlock has been so kind," proceeds Mr. Rouncewell with a respectful bow, "as to place near her a young beauty of the name of Rosa.


Now, my son has fallen in love with Rosa and has asked my consent to his proposing marriage to her and to their becoming engaged if she will take him--which I suppose she will.

Now, my son has fallen in love with Rosa and has asked my consent to his proposing marriage to her.


I have never seen Rosa until to-day, but I have some confidence in my son's good sense--even in love.

I have never seen Rosa until today, but I have some confidence in my son's good sense.


I find her what he represents her, to the best of my judgment; and my mother speaks of her with great commendation."


"She in all respects deserves it," says my Lady.


"I am happy, Lady Dedlock, that you say so, and I need not comment on the value to me of your kind opinion of her."

"I am happy, Lady Dedlock, that you say so.


"That," observes Sir Leicester with unspeakable grandeur, for he thinks the ironmaster a little too glib, "must be quite unnecessary."


Now, my son is a very young man, and Rosa is a very young woman.


As I made my way, so my son must make his; and his being married at present is out of the question.


But supposing I gave my consent to his engaging himself to this pretty girl, if this pretty girl will engage herself to him, I think it a piece of candour to say at once--I am sure, Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, you will understand and excuse me--I should make it a condition that she did not remain at Chesney Wold.

But supposing I gave my consent to his engaging himself to this pretty girl, I think I should say at once - I am sure you will understand and excuse me - I should make it a condition that she did not remain at Chesney Wold.


Therefore, before communicating further with my son, I take the liberty of saying that if her removal would be in any way inconvenient or objectionable, I will hold the matter over with him for any reasonable time and leave it precisely where it is."

Therefore, before speaking further with my son, I take the liberty of saying that if her removal would be in any way inconvenient or objectionable, I will leave the matter precisely where it is."


All Sir Leicester's old misgivings relative to Wat Tyler and the people in the iron districts who do nothing but turn out by torchlight come in a shower upon his head, the fine grey hair of which, as well as of his whiskers, actually stirs with indignation.

All Sir Leicester's old misgivings about the people in the iron districts who do nothing but turn out to riot by torchlight come in a shower upon his indignant head.


"Am I to understand, sir," says Sir Leicester, "and is my Lady to understand"--he brings her in thus specially, first as a point of gallantry, and next as a point of prudence, having great reliance on her sense--"am I to understand, Mr. Rouncewell, and is my Lady to understand, sir, that you consider this young woman too good for Chesney Wold or likely to be injured by remaining here?"

"Am I to understand, sir," he says, "that you consider this young woman too good for Chesney Wold or likely to be injured by remaining here?"


"Pray, Mr. Rouncewell," says my Lady, warning Sir Leicester off with the slightest gesture of her pretty hand, as if he were a fly, "explain to me what you mean."


Addressing her composed face, whose intelligence, however, is too quick and active to be concealed by any studied impassiveness, however habitual, to the strong Saxon face of the visitor, a picture of resolution and perseverance, my Lady listens with attention, occasionally slightly bending her head.

My Lady listens attentively, with composed face, but with a quick intelligence.


"I am the son of your housekeeper, Lady Dedlock, and passed my childhood about this house.


My mother has lived here half a century and will die here I have no doubt.

My mother has lived here half a century and will die here, I have no doubt.


She is one of those examples--perhaps as good a one as there is--of love, and attachment, and fidelity in such a nation, which England may well be proud of, but of which no order can appropriate the whole pride or the whole merit, because such an instance bespeaks high worth on two sides--on the great side assuredly, on the small one no less assuredly."

She is one of those examples of love, attachment, and fidelity, which England may well be proud of, although such an instance bespeaks high worth on two sides - on the great side assuredly, on the small one no less assuredly."


Sir Leicester snorts a little to hear the law laid down in this way, but in his honour and his love of truth, he freely, though silently, admits the justice of the ironmaster's proposition.

Sir Leicester snorts a little, but silently admits the justice of this statement.


"Pardon me for saying what is so obvious, but I wouldn't have it hastily supposed," with the least turn of his eyes towards Sir Leicester, "that I am ashamed of my mother's position here, or wanting in all just respect for Chesney Wold and the family.

"I wouldn't have it supposed that I am ashamed of my mother's position here, or lacking in respect for Chesney Wold.


I certainly may have desired--I certainly have desired, Lady Dedlock--that my mother should retire after so many years and end her days with me.

I certainly may have desired, Lady Dedlock, that my mother should retire and end her days with me.


But as I have found that to sever this strong bond would be to break her heart, I have long abandoned that idea."

But as I have found that this would break her heart, I have long abandoned that idea."


Sir Leicester very magnificent again at the notion of Mrs. Rouncewell being spirited off from her natural home to end her days with an ironmaster.


"I have been," proceeds the visitor in a modest, clear way, "an apprentice and a workman.


I have lived on workman's wages, years and years, and beyond a certain point have had to educate myself.

I have lived on workman's wages for years, and beyond a certain point have had to educate myself.


My wife was a foreman's daughter, and plainly brought up.


We have three daughters besides this son of whom I have spoken, and being fortunately able to give them greater advantages than we have had ourselves, we have educated them well, very well.

We have three daughters besides our son, and fortunately have been able to educate them well.


It has been one of our great cares and pleasures to make them worthy of any station."


A little boastfulness in his fatherly tone here, as if he added in his heart, "even of the Chesney Wold station." Not a little more magnificence, therefore, on the part of Sir Leicester.

A little boastfulness in his fatherly tone here; and more magnificence, therefore, on the part of Sir Leicester.


"All this is so frequent, Lady Dedlock, where I live, and among the class to which I belong, that what would be generally called unequal marriages are not of such rare occurrence with us as elsewhere.

"All this is so frequent, Lady Dedlock, where I live, that what would be generally called unequal marriages are not so rare as elsewhere.


A son will sometimes make it known to his father that he has fallen in love, say, with a young woman in the factory.

A son will sometimes tell his father that he has fallen in love, say, with a young woman in the factory.


The father, who once worked in a factory himself, will be a little disappointed at first very possibly.

The father, who once worked in a factory himself, may be a little disappointed at first.


It may be that he had other views for his son.


However, the chances are that having ascertained the young woman to be of unblemished character, he will say to his son, 'I must be quite sure you are in earnest here.


This is a serious matter for both of you.


Therefore I shall have this girl educated for two years,' or it may be, 'I shall place this girl at the same school with your sisters for such a time, during which you will give me your word and honour to see her only so often. If at the expiration of that time, when she has so far profited by her advantages as that you may be upon a fair equality, you are both in the same mind, I will do my part to make you happy.'

However, if he finds the young woman to be of unblemished character, he may have the girl educated for two years, or he may place her at the same school with his daughters, until they are of a fair equality.


I know of several cases such as I describe, my Lady, and I think they indicate to me my own course now."

I know of several such cases, my Lady, and I think they indicate to me my own course now."


"Mr. Rouncewell," says Sir Leicester with his right hand in the breast of his blue coat, the attitude of state in which he is painted in the gallery, "do you draw a parallel between Chesney Wold and a--" Here he resists a disposition to choke, "a factory?"

"Mr. Rouncewell," says Sir Leicester in a stately attitude, "do you draw a parallel between Chesney Wold and a - a factory?"


"I need not reply, Sir Leicester, that the two places are very different; but for the purposes of this case, I think a parallel may be justly drawn between them."

"Of course the two places are very different; but for the purposes of this case, I think a parallel may be justly drawn between them."


Sir Leicester directs his majestic glance down one side of the long drawing-room and up the other before he can believe that he is awake.


"Are you aware, sir, that this young woman whom my Lady--my Lady--has placed near her person was brought up at the village school outside the gates?"

"Are you aware, sir, that this young woman whom my Lady has placed near her person was brought up at the village school outside the gates?"


A very good school it is, and handsomely supported by this family."


"Then, Mr. Rouncewell," returns Sir Leicester, "the application of what you have said is, to me, incomprehensible."

"Then, Mr. Rouncewell," returns Sir Leicester, "what you have said is incomprehensible."


"Will it be more comprehensible, Sir Leicester, if I say," the ironmaster is reddening a little, "that I do not regard the village school as teaching everything desirable to be known by my son's wife?"


From the village school of Chesney Wold, intact as it is this minute, to the whole framework of society; from the whole framework of society, to the aforesaid framework receiving tremendous cracks in consequence of people (iron-masters, lead-mistresses, and what not) not minding their catechism, and getting out of the station unto which they are called--necessarily and for ever, according to Sir Leicester's rapid logic, the first station in which they happen to find themselves; and from that, to their educating other people out of THEIR stations, and so obliterating the landmarks, and opening the floodgates, and all the rest of it; this is the swift progress of the Dedlock mind.

From the village school of Chesney Wold to the whole framework of society; to that framework cracking due to people like iron-masters getting out of the station unto which they are called - which is, according to Sir Leicester's rapid logic, the first station in which they happen to find themselves; and from that, to their educating other people out of their stations, and so opening the floodgates, and all the rest of it; this is the swift progress of the Dedlock mind.


She has given a faint indication of intending to speak.


"Mr. Rouncewell, our views of duty, and our views of station, and our views of education, and our views of--in short, ALL our views--are so diametrically opposed, that to prolong this discussion must be repellent to your feelings and repellent to my own.

"Mr. Rouncewell, our views of duty, and of station, and of education - in short, all our views - are so opposed, that to prolong this discussion must be repellent to both of us.


This young woman is honoured with my Lady's notice and favour.


If she wishes to withdraw herself from that notice and favour or if she chooses to place herself under the influence of any one who may in his peculiar opinions--you will allow me to say, in his peculiar opinions, though I readily admit that he is not accountable for them to me--who may, in his peculiar opinions, withdraw her from that notice and favour, she is at any time at liberty to do so.

If she wishes to withdraw herself from that favour, or to allow anyone with peculiar opinions to withdraw her from that favour, she is free to do so.


We are obliged to you for the plainness with which you have spoken.


It will have no effect of itself, one way or other, on the young woman's position here.


Beyond this, we can make no terms; and here we beg--if you will be so good--to leave the subject."

We beg - if you will be so good - to leave the subject."


The visitor pauses a moment to give my Lady an opportunity, but she says nothing.

The visitor pauses to give my Lady an opportunity to speak, but she says nothing.


He then rises and replies, "Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, allow me to thank you for your attention and only to observe that I shall very seriously recommend my son to conquer his present inclinations.

He then rises and replies, "Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock, thank you for your attention. I shall very seriously recommend my son to conquer his present inclinations.


"Mr. Rouncewell," says Sir Leicester with all the nature of a gentleman shining in him, "it is late, and the roads are dark.

"Mr. Rouncewell," says Sir Leicester, "it is late, and the roads are dark.


I hope your time is not so precious but that you will allow my Lady and myself to offer you the hospitality of Chesney Wold, for to-night at least."

I hope you will allow my Lady and myself to offer you the hospitality of Chesney Wold, for tonight at least."


"I am much obliged to you, but I have to travel all night in order to reach a distant part of the country punctually at an appointed time in the morning."

"I am much obliged to you, but I have to travel all night in order to reach a distant part of the country for an appointment in the morning."


Therewith the ironmaster takes his departure, Sir Leicester ringing the bell and my Lady rising as he leaves the room.


When my Lady goes to her boudoir, she sits down thoughtfully by the fire, and inattentive to the Ghost's Walk, looks at Rosa, writing in an inner room.

My Lady goes to her boudoir, sits down thoughtfully by the fire, and looks at Rosa, writing in an inner room.


My Lady, looking at the downcast and blushing face, says smiling, "Who is it?


But I don't know that I am in love with him--yet."

But I don't know that I am in love with him - yet."


"I think he likes me a little, my Lady."


Is this Lady Dedlock standing beside the village beauty, smoothing her dark hair with that motherly touch, and watching her with eyes so full of musing interest?

Is this Lady Dedlock standing beside the village beauty, smoothing her dark hair with that motherly touch, and watching her with eyes so full of interest?


You are young and true, and I believe you are attached to me."


Indeed there is nothing in the world I wouldn't do to show how much."


"And I don't think you would wish to leave me just yet, Rosa, even for a lover?"


Rosa looks up for the first time, quite frightened at the thought.

Rosa looks quite frightened at the thought.


I wish you to be happy, and will make you so--if I can make anybody happy on this earth."

I wish you to be happy, and will make you so - if I can make anybody happy on this earth."


Rosa, with fresh tears, kneels at her feet and kisses her hand.


My Lady takes the hand with which she has caught it, and standing with her eyes fixed on the fire, puts it about and about between her own two hands, and gradually lets it fall. Seeing her so absorbed, Rosa softly withdraws; but still my Lady's eyes are on the fire.

My Lady holds her hand between her own, and then gradually lets it fall, absorbed with her eyes on the fire.


Of any hand that is no more, of any hand that never was, of any touch that might have magically changed her life?

Of any hand that is no more, of any touch that might have magically changed her life?


Or does she listen to the Ghost's Walk and think what step does it most resemble?

Does she listen to the Ghost's Walk and think what step it most resembles?


The pattering of a little child's feet, ever coming on--on--on?


Some melancholy influence is upon her, or why should so proud a lady close the doors and sit alone upon the hearth so desolate?


Volumnia is away next day, and all the cousins are scattered before dinner.


Not a cousin of the batch but is amazed to hear from Sir Leicester at breakfast-time of the obliteration of landmarks, and opening of floodgates, and cracking of the framework of society, manifested through Mrs. Rouncewell's son.

They are amazed to hear from Sir Leicester at breakfast-time of the opening of floodgates, and cracking of the framework of society, as manifested through Mrs. Rouncewell's son.


Not a cousin of the batch but is really indignant, and connects it with the feebleness of William Buffy when in office, and really does feel deprived of a stake in the country--or the pension list--or something--by fraud and wrong. As to Volumnia, she is handed down the great staircase by Sir Leicester, as eloquent upon the theme as if there were a general rising in the north of England to obtain her rouge-pot and pearl necklace.

The cousins are really indignant; and as to Volumnia, she is as eloquent upon the theme as if there were a general rising in the north of England to obtain her rouge-pot and pearl necklace.


And thus, with a clatter of maids and valets--for it is one appurtenance of their cousinship that however difficult they may find it to keep themselves, they MUST keep maids and valets--the cousins disperse to the four winds of heaven; and the one wintry wind that blows to-day shakes a shower from the trees near the deserted house, as if all the cousins had been changed into leaves.

And thus, with a clatter of maids and valets, the cousins disperse to the four winds; and the one wintry wind that blows today shakes a shower from the trees near the deserted house, as if all the cousins had been changed into leaves.


In a rather ill-favoured and ill-savoured neighbourhood, though one of its rising grounds bears the name of Mount Pleasant, the Elfin Smallweed, christened Bartholomew and known on the domestic hearth as Bart, passes that limited portion of his time on which the office and its contingencies have no claim.

In a rather ill-favoured neighbourhood, the Elfin Smallweed, christened Bartholomew and known at home as Bart, passes that limited portion of his time on which the office has no claim.


He dwells in a little narrow street, always solitary, shady, and sad, closely bricked in on all sides like a tomb, but where there yet lingers the stump of an old forest tree whose flavour is about as fresh and natural as the Smallweed smack of youth.

He dwells in a little narrow street, solitary, shady, and sad, closely bricked in on all sides like a tomb, but where there lingers the stump of an old tree whose flavour is about as fresh and natural as the Smallweed smack of youth.


There has been only one child in the Smallweed family for several generations.


Little old men and women there have been, but no child, until Mr. Smallweed's grandmother, now living, became weak in her intellect and fell (for the first time) into a childish state.

Little old men and women there have been, but no child, until Mr. Smallweed's grandmother became weak in her intellect and fell (for the first time) into a childish state.


With such infantine graces as a total want of observation, memory, understanding, and interest, and an eternal disposition to fall asleep over the fire and into it, Mr. Smallweed's grandmother has undoubtedly brightened the family.


Mr. Smallweed's grandfather is likewise of the party. He is in a helpless condition as to his lower, and nearly so as to his upper, limbs, but his mind is unimpaired.

Mr. Smallweed's grandfather is in a helpless condition as to his lower limbs, but his mind is unimpaired.


It holds, as well as it ever held, the first four rules of arithmetic and a certain small collection of the hardest facts.

It holds, as well as it ever held, the rules of arithmetic and a small collection of the hardest facts.


In respect of ideality, reverence, wonder, and other such phrenological attributes, it is no worse off than it used to be.


Everything that Mr. Smallweed's grandfather ever put away in his mind was a grub at first, and is a grub at last.


In all his life he has never bred a single butterfly.


The father of this pleasant grandfather, of the neighbourhood of Mount Pleasant, was a horny-skinned, two-legged, money-getting species of spider who spun webs to catch unwary flies and retired into holes until they were entrapped.

The father of this pleasant grandfather was a horny-skinned, two-legged, money-getting species of spider who spun webs to catch unwary flies.


The name of this old pagan's god was Compound Interest.


He lived for it, married it, died of it.


Meeting with a heavy loss in an honest little enterprise in which all the loss was intended to have been on the other side, he broke something--something necessary to his existence, therefore it couldn't have been his heart--and made an end of his career.

Meeting with a heavy loss in an honest little enterprise in which all the loss was intended to have been on the other side, he broke something - it couldn't have been his heart - and made an end of his career.


As his character was not good, and he had been bred at a charity school in a complete course, according to question and answer, of those ancient people the Amorites and Hittites, he was frequently quoted as an example of the failure of education.


His spirit shone through his son, to whom he had always preached of "going out" early in life and whom he made a clerk in a sharp scrivener's office at twelve years old.

His spirit shone through his son, whom he made a clerk in a sharp scrivener's office at twelve years old.


There the young gentleman improved his mind, which was of a lean and anxious character, and developing the family gifts, gradually elevated himself into the discounting profession.

There the young gentleman improved his mind, which was of a lean and anxious character, and gradually elevated himself into the discounting profession.


Going out early in life and marrying late, as his father had done before him, he too begat a lean and anxious-minded son, who in his turn, going out early in life and marrying late, became the father of Bartholomew and Judith Smallweed, twins.

Going out early in life and marrying late, as his father had done before him, he too begat a lean and anxious-minded son, who in his turn became the father of Bartholomew and Judith Smallweed, twins.


During the whole time consumed in the slow growth of this family tree, the house of Smallweed, always early to go out and late to marry, has strengthened itself in its practical character, has discarded all amusements, discountenanced all story-books, fairy-tales, fictions, and fables, and banished all levities whatsoever.

During this whole time, the house of Smallweed has discarded all amusements, fairy-tales, fictions, and fables, and banished all levities whatsoever.


Hence the gratifying fact that it has had no child born to it and that the complete little men and women whom it has produced have been observed to bear a likeness to old monkeys with something depressing on their minds.

Hence the gratifying fact that it has had no child born to it and that the complete little men and women whom it has produced bear a likeness to old monkeys with something depressing on their minds.


At the present time, in the dark little parlour certain feet below the level of the street--a grim, hard, uncouth parlour, only ornamented with the coarsest of baize table-covers, and the hardest of sheet-iron tea-trays, and offering in its decorative character no bad allegorical representation of Grandfather Smallweed's mind--seated in two black horsehair porter's chairs, one on each side of the fire-place, the superannuated Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed while away the rosy hours.

At the present time, in the grim, dark little parlour some feet below the level of the street, seated in two black horsehair porter's chairs, one on each side of the fire-place, the oldest Mr. and Mrs. Smallweed while away the hours.


On the stove are a couple of trivets for the pots and kettles which it is Grandfather Smallweed's usual occupation to watch, and projecting from the chimney-piece between them is a sort of brass gallows for roasting, which he also superintends when it is in action.

On the stove are a couple of trivets for the pots and kettles which it is Grandfather Smallweed's usual occupation to watch.


Under the venerable Mr. Smallweed's seat and guarded by his spindle legs is a drawer in his chair, reported to contain property to a fabulous amount.

Under his seat and guarded by his spindle legs is a drawer in his chair, reported to contain property to a fabulous amount.


Beside him is a spare cushion with which he is always provided in order that he may have something to throw at the venerable partner of his respected age whenever she makes an allusion to money--a subject on which he is particularly sensitive.

Beside him is a spare cushion, provided in order that he may have something to throw at his venerable partner whenever she mentions money - a subject on which he is particularly sensitive.


Grandfather Smallweed inquires of Judy, Bart's twin sister.


"No."
"How much do you mean to say it wants then?"
"Ten minutes."


Grandmother Smallweed, who has been mumbling and shaking her head at the trivets, hearing figures mentioned, connects them with money and screeches like a horrible old parrot without any plumage, "Ten ten-pound notes!"

Grandmother Smallweed, who has been mumbling and shaking her head, hearing figures mentioned, screeches like a horrible old parrot without any plumage, "Ten ten-pound notes!"


Grandfather Smallweed immediately throws the cushion at her.


The effect of this act of jaculation is twofold.


It not only doubles up Mrs. Smallweed's head against the side of her porter's chair and causes her to present, when extricated by her granddaughter, a highly unbecoming state of cap, but the necessary exertion recoils on Mr. Smallweed himself, whom it throws back into HIS porter's chair like a broken puppet.

This exertion recoils on Mr. Smallweed himself, throwing him back into his chair like a broken puppet.


The excellent old gentleman being at these times a mere clothes-bag with a black skull-cap on the top of it, does not present a very animated appearance until he has undergone the two operations at the hands of his granddaughter of being shaken up like a great bottle and poked and punched like a great bolster.

His granddaughter shakes him up again, poking and punching him like a great bolster.


Some indication of a neck being developed in him by these means, he and the sharer of his life's evening again fronting one another in their two porter's chairs, like a couple of sentinels long forgotten on their post by the Black Serjeant, Death.


Judy the twin is worthy company for these associates.


She is so indubitably sister to Mr. Smallweed the younger that the two kneaded into one would hardly make a young person of average proportions, while she so happily exemplifies the before-mentioned family likeness to the monkey tribe that attired in a spangled robe and cap she might walk about the table-land on the top of a barrel-organ without exciting much remark as an unusual specimen.

She is so indubitably sister to Mr. Smallweed the younger; she so happily exemplifies the family likeness to the monkey tribe, that attired in a spangled robe and cap she might walk on top of a barrel-organ without exciting much remark.


Under existing circumstances, however, she is dressed in a plain, spare gown of brown stuff.

At present, however, she is dressed in a plain brown gown.


Judy never owned a doll, never heard of Cinderella, never played at any game.


She once or twice fell into children's company when she was about ten years old, but the children couldn't get on with Judy, and Judy couldn't get on with them.


She seemed like an animal of another species, and there was instinctive repugnance on both sides.


It is very doubtful whether Judy knows how to laugh.


She has so rarely seen the thing done that the probabilities are strong the other way.


Of anything like a youthful laugh, she certainly can have no conception.


If she were to try one, she would find her teeth in her way, modelling that action of her face, as she has unconsciously modelled all its other expressions, on her pattern of sordid age.


And her twin brother couldn't wind up a top for his life. He knows no more of Jack the Giant Killer or of Sinbad the Sailor than he knows of the people in the stars. He could as soon play at leap-frog or at cricket as change into a cricket or a frog himself.

And her twin brother likewise has learnt no games or fairy-stories.


But he is so much the better off than his sister that on his narrow world of fact an opening has dawned into such broader regions as lie within the ken of Mr. Guppy.

But he is better off than his sister, in that on his narrow world an opening has dawned into the broader regions inhabited by Mr. Guppy.


Hence his admiration and his emulation of that shining enchanter.

Hence his admiration of that shining enchanter.


Judy, with a gong-like clash and clatter, sets one of the sheet-iron tea-trays on the table and arranges cups and saucers.

Judy, with a clash and clatter, sets an iron tea-tray on the table and arranges cups and saucers.


The bread she puts on in an iron basket, and the butter (and not much of it) in a small pewter plate.

She puts the bread in an iron basket, and the meagre butter in a small pewter plate.


Grandfather Smallweed looks hard after the tea as it is served out and asks Judy where the girl is.

Grandfather Smallweed looks hard at the tea and asks Judy where the girl is.


This touches a spring in Grandmother Smallweed, who, chuckling as usual at the trivets, cries, "Over the water!


Charley over the water, Charley over the water, over the water to Charley, Charley over the water, over the water to Charley!"


Grandfather looks at the cushion but has not sufficiently recovered his late exertion.
"Ha!" he says when there is silence.


It would be better to allow her for her keep."

It would be better to just pay her for her keep."


Judy, with her brother's wink, shakes her head and purses up her mouth into no without saying it.

Judy shakes her head and purses up her mouth.


"She'd want sixpence a day, and we can do it for less," says Judy.

"She'd want sixpence a day, and we can do it for less," says she.


Judy answers with a nod of deepest meaning and calls, as she scrapes the butter on the loaf with every precaution against waste and cuts it into slices, "You, Charley, where are you?"

Judy answers with a nod and calls, as she scrapes the butter on the loaf, "Charley, where are you?"


Timidly obedient to the summons, a little girl in a rough apron and a large bonnet, with her hands covered with soap and water and a scrubbing brush in one of them, appears, and curtsys.

Timidly obedient, a little girl in a rough apron appears, with her hands covered with soap and water and a scrubbing brush in one of them.


says Judy, making an ancient snap at her like a very sharp old beldame.


"I'm a-cleaning the upstairs back room, miss," replies Charley.


"Mind you do it thoroughly, and don't loiter.


cries Judy with a stamp upon the ground.


"You girls are more trouble than you're worth, by half."


On this severe matron, as she returns to her task of scraping the butter and cutting the bread, falls the shadow of her brother, looking in at the window.

As she returns to her task, her brother arrives home.


For whom, knife and loaf in hand, she opens the street-door.


"Been along with your friend again, Bart?"


Live at his expense as much as you can, and take warning by his foolish example.


That's the use of such a friend. The only use you can put him to," says the venerable sage.

That's the only use of such a friend," says the venerable sage.


His grandson, without receiving this good counsel as dutifully as he might, honours it with all such acceptance as may lie in a slight wink and a nod and takes a chair at the tea-table.

His grandson receives this good advice with a wink and a nod and takes a chair at the tea-table.


The four old faces then hover over teacups like a company of ghastly cherubim, Mrs. Smallweed perpetually twitching her head and chattering at the trivets and Mr. Smallweed requiring to be repeatedly shaken up like a large black draught.

The four old faces hover over teacups like a company of ghastly cherubim, Mrs. Smallweed perpetually twitching her head and chattering and Mr. Smallweed requiring to be repeatedly shaken up.


"Yes, yes," says the good old gentleman, reverting to his lesson of wisdom.

"Yes, yes," says the good old gentleman.


"That's such advice as your father would have given you, Bart.


Whether it is intended to be conveyed that he was particularly pleasant to look at, on that account, does not appear.


"He was my true son," repeats the old gentleman, folding his bread and butter on his knee, "a good accountant, and died fifteen years ago."

He was my true son, and died fifteen years ago."


Mrs. Smallweed, following her usual instinct, breaks out with "Fifteen hundred pound. Fifteen hundred pound in a black box, fifteen hundred pound locked up, fifteen hundred pound put away and hid!"

Mrs. Smallweed breaks out with "Fifteen hundred pound in a black box, put away and hid!"


Her worthy husband, setting aside his bread and butter, immediately discharges the cushion at her, crushes her against the side of her chair, and falls back in his own, overpowered.

Her worthy husband immediately throws the cushion at her, crushing her against the side of her chair, and falls back in his own, overpowered.


His appearance, after visiting Mrs. Smallweed with one of these admonitions, is particularly impressive and not wholly prepossessing, firstly because the exertion generally twists his black skull-cap over one eye and gives him an air of goblin rakishness, secondly because he mutters violent imprecations against Mrs. Smallweed, and thirdly because the contrast between those powerful expressions and his powerless figure is suggestive of a baleful old malignant who would be very wicked if he could.

He mutters baleful and violent imprecations against Mrs. Smallweed.


All this, however, is so common in the Smallweed family circle that it produces no impression.

All this, however, is common in the Smallweed family circle.


The old gentleman is merely shaken and has his internal feathers beaten up, the cushion is restored to its usual place beside him, and the old lady, perhaps with her cap adjusted and perhaps not, is planted in her chair again, ready to be bowled down like a ninepin.

The old gentleman is merely shaken and has his internal feathers beaten up, the cushion is restored to its place beside him, and the old lady is planted in her chair again.


Some time elapses in the present instance before the old gentleman is sufficiently cool to resume his discourse, and even then he mixes it up with several edifying expletives addressed to the unconscious partner of his bosom, who holds communication with nothing on earth but the trivets.

Some time elapses before the old gentleman is cool enough to resume his discourse, and even then he mixes it up with several expletives addressed to the partner of his bosom.


As thus: "If your father, Bart, had lived longer, he might have been worth a deal of money--you brimstone chatterer!--but just as he was beginning to build up the house that he had been making the foundations for, through many a year--you jade of a magpie, jackdaw, and poll-parrot, what do you mean!--he took ill and died of a low fever, always being a sparing and a spare man, full of business care--I should like to throw a cat at you instead of a cushion, and I will too if you make such a confounded fool of yourself!--and your mother, who was a prudent woman as dry as a chip, just dwindled away like touchwood after you and Judy were born--you are an old pig.

"If your father, Bart, had lived longer, he might have been worth a deal of money - you brimstone chatterer! - but just as he was beginning to build up his funds, he took ill and died of a fever - I should like to throw a cat at you instead of a cushion, you confounded fool! - and your mother, who was a prudent woman, just dwindled away after you and Judy were born - you old pig!"


Judy, not interested in what she has often heard, begins to collect in a basin various tributary streams of tea, from the bottoms of cups and saucers and from the bottom of the tea-pot for the little charwoman's evening meal.

Judy, not interested in what she has often heard, begins to collect leftovers of tea in a basin, and of bread-and-butter in the iron bread-basket, for the little charwoman's evening meal.


In like manner she gets together, in the iron bread-basket, as many outside fragments and worn-down heels of loaves as the rigid economy of the house has left in existence.


"But your father and me were partners, Bart," says the old gentleman, "and when I am gone, you and Judy will have all there is.


It's rare for you both that you went out early in life--Judy to the flower business, and you to the law.


You'll get your living without it, and put more to it.


When I am gone, Judy will go back to the flower business and you'll still stick to the law."

When I am gone, Judy will go back to the flower business and you'll stick to the law."


One might infer from Judy's appearance that her business rather lay with the thorns than the flowers, but she has in her time been apprenticed to the art and mystery of artificial flower-making.

One might infer from Judy's appearance that her business rather lay with the thorns than the flowers, but she has in her time been apprenticed to the art of artificial flower-making.


A close observer might perhaps detect both in her eye and her brother's, when their venerable grandsire anticipates his being gone, some little impatience to know when he may be going, and some resentful opinion that it is time he went.

A close observer might perhaps detect both in her eye and her brother's some impatience to know when their grandfather may be going, and some resentful opinion that it is time he went.


"Now, if everybody has done," says Judy, completing her preparations, "I'll have that girl in to her tea.

"Now, if everybody has done," says Judy. "I'll have that girl in to her tea.


She would never leave off if she took it by herself in the kitchen."


Charley is accordingly introduced, and under a heavy fire of eyes, sits down to her basin and a Druidical ruin of bread and butter.

Charley is accordingly introduced, and under a heavy fire of eyes, sits down to her basin and her ruins of bread and butter.


In the active superintendence of this young person, Judy Smallweed appears to attain a perfectly geological age and to date from the remotest periods.


Her systematic manner of flying at her and pouncing on her, with or without pretence, whether or no, is wonderful, evincing an accomplishment in the art of girl-driving seldom reached by the oldest practitioners.


"Now, don't stare about you all the afternoon," cries Judy, shaking her head and stamping her foot as she happens to catch the glance which has been previously sounding the basin of tea, "but take your victuals and get back to your work."

"Now, don't stare about you all afternoon," cries Judy, stamping her foot, "but take your victuals and get back to your work."


"Don't say yes," returns Miss Smallweed, "for I know what you girls are.


Do it without saying it, and then I may begin to believe you."


Charley swallows a great gulp of tea in token of submission and so disperses the Druidical ruins that Miss Smallweed charges her not to gormandize, which "in you girls," she observes, is disgusting. Charley might find some more difficulty in meeting her views on the general subject of girls but for a knock at the door.

Charley swallows a great gulp of tea in token of submission, just as there is a knock at the door.


"See who it is, and don't chew when you open it!"


The object of her attentions withdrawing for the purpose, Miss Smallweed takes that opportunity of jumbling the remainder of the bread and butter together and launching two or three dirty tea-cups into the ebb-tide of the basin of tea as a hint that she considers the eating and drinking terminated.


Without other announcement or ceremony, Mr. George walks in.


Perhaps you do right to get used to one."


Mr. George makes the latter remark to himself as he nods to Grandfather Smallweed.


"Middling," replies Mr. George, taking a chair.


"Your granddaughter I have had the honour of seeing before; my service to you, miss."


"This is my grandson," says Grandfather Smallweed.

"This is my grandson," says old Smallweed.


He is devilish like his sister," says Mr. George, laying a great and not altogether complimentary stress on his last adjective.

He is devilish like his sister," says Mr. George.


"And how does the world use you, Mr. George?"


Grandfather Smallweed inquires, slowly rubbing his legs.

Grandfather Smallweed inquires, rubbing his legs.


He is a swarthy brown man of fifty, well made, and good looking, with crisp dark hair, bright eyes, and a broad chest.

He is a swarthy, brown man of fifty, well made, and good looking, with curly dark hair, bright eyes, and a broad chest.


His sinewy and powerful hands, as sunburnt as his face, have evidently been used to a pretty rough life.

His powerful, sunburnt hands have evidently been used to a pretty rough life.


What is curious about him is that he sits forward on his chair as if he were, from long habit, allowing space for some dress or accoutrements that he has altogether laid aside.


His step too is measured and heavy and would go well with a weighty clash and jingle of spurs.

His step is measured and heavy and would go well with a weighty clash and jingle of spurs.


He is close-shaved now, but his mouth is set as if his upper lip had been for years familiar with a great moustache; and his manner of occasionally laying the open palm of his broad brown hand upon it is to the same effect.


Altogether one might guess Mr. George to have been a trooper once upon a time.


A special contrast Mr. George makes to the Smallweed family.

He makes a contrast to the Smallweed family.


Trooper was never yet billeted upon a household more unlike him.

A soldier was never yet billeted upon a household more unlike him.


His developed figure and their stunted forms, his large manner filling any amount of room and their little narrow pinched ways, his sounding voice and their sharp spare tones, are in the strongest and the strangest opposition.

His broad figure and their stunted forms, his large manner and their narrow pinched ways, his resounding voice and their sharp thin tones, are in the strangest opposition.


As he sits in the middle of the grim parlour, leaning a little forward, with his hands upon his thighs and his elbows squared, he looks as though, if he remained there long, he would absorb into himself the whole family and the whole four-roomed house, extra little back-kitchen and all.


"Do you rub your legs to rub life into 'em?"


he asks of Grandfather Smallweed after looking round the room.


"Why, it's partly a habit, Mr. George, and--yes--it partly helps the circulation," he replies.

"Why, it's partly a habit, Mr. George, and it partly helps the circulation.


repeats Mr. George, folding his arms upon his chest and seeming to become two sizes larger.


"Truly I'm old, Mr. George," says Grandfather Smallweed. "But I can carry my years. I'm older than HER," nodding at his wife, "and see what she is?

I can carry my years. I'm older than her," says Grandfather Smallweed, nodding at his wife, "the brimstone chatterer!"


with a sudden revival of his late hostility.


says Mr. George, turning his head in that direction.


Look at her here, with her poor cap half off her head and her poor hair all in a muddle.

Look at her, with her poor cap half off.


Think of your mother, Mr. Smallweed," says Mr. George, coming back to his seat from assisting her, "if your wife an't enough."


"I suppose you were an excellent son, Mr. George?"


The colour of Mr. George's face rather deepens as he replies, "Why no.

The colour of Mr. George's face rather deepens as he replies, "Why, no.


"So am I. I ought to have been a good son, and I think I meant to have been one.


I was a thundering bad son, that's the long and the short of it, and never was a credit to anybody."

I was a thundering bad son, and never was a credit to anybody."


"However," Mr. George resumes, "the less said about it, the better now.

"However," Mr. George resumes, "the less said about it, the better.


Always a pipe out of the two months' interest!


You needn't be afraid to order the pipe.


Here's the new bill, and here's the two months' interest-money, and a devil-and-all of a scrape it is to get it together in my business.)"

Here's the bill, and here's the two months' interest-money, and a devil of a scrape it is to get it together in my business."


Mr. George sits, with his arms folded, consuming the family and the parlour while Grandfather Smallweed is assisted by Judy to two black leathern cases out of a locked bureau, in one of which he secures the document he has just received, and from the other takes another similar document which he hands to Mr. George, who twists it up for a pipelight.

Mr. George sits, with his arms folded, while Grandfather Smallweed is assisted by Judy to two black leather cases out of a locked bureau, in one of which he secures the document he has just received, and from the other takes another similar document which he hands to Mr. George.


As the old man inspects, through his glasses, every up-stroke and down-stroke of both documents before he releases them from their leathern prison, and as he counts the money three times over and requires Judy to say every word she utters at least twice, and is as tremulously slow of speech and action as it is possible to be, this business is a long time in progress.

As the old man inspects every letter of both documents, and as he counts the money three times over, this business takes a long time.


When it is quite concluded, and not before, he disengages his ravenous eyes and fingers from it and answers Mr. George's last remark by saying, "Afraid to order the pipe?


Judy, see directly to the pipe and the glass of cold brandy-and-water for Mr. George."

"Judy, see to the pipe and the glass of brandy-and-water for Mr. George."


The sportive twins, who have been looking straight before them all this time except when they have been engrossed by the black leathern cases, retire together, generally disdainful of the visitor, but leaving him to the old man as two young cubs might leave a traveller to the parental bear.

The twins retire together, disdainful of the visitor, but leaving him to the old man as two young cubs might leave a traveller to the parental bear.


"And there you sit, I suppose, all the day long, eh?"

"And there you sit, I suppose, all day long, eh?"


"I watch the fire--and the boiling and the roasting--"


"When there is any," says Mr. George with great expression.


The old man shakes his head with sharp sly triumph.


We have never been readers in our family.


"There's not much to choose between your two states," says the visitor in a key too low for the old man's dull hearing as he looks from him to the old woman and back again.


"You'll sell me up at last, I suppose, when I am a day in arrear."

"You'll sell me up at last, I suppose, when I am a day in arrears."


cries Grandfather Smallweed, stretching out both hands to embrace him.

cries Grandfather Smallweed, stretching out both hands, "Never!


But my friend in the city that I got to lend you the money--HE might!"

But my friend in the city that I got to lend you the money - he might!"


says Mr. George, finishing the inquiry in his lower key with the words "You lying old rascal!"

says Mr. George, adding in an undertone, "You lying old rascal!"


"My dear friend, he is not to be depended on.


Charley appearing with a tray, on which are the pipe, a small paper of tobacco, and the brandy-and-water, he asks her, "How do you come here!

Charley appears with a tray, on which are the clay pipe, a small paper of tobacco, and the brandy-and-water. He asks her,
"How do you come here?


"I goes out to work, sir," returns Charley.


The trooper (if trooper he be or have been) takes her bonnet off, with a light touch for so strong a hand, and pats her on the head.

The trooper takes her bonnet off, with a light touch for so strong a hand, and pats her on the head.


"You give the house almost a wholesome look."


It wants a bit of youth as much as it wants fresh air."