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It
was
even
the
worse
for
her
at
this
pass
,
that
in
her
mind
--
implanted
there
before
her
eminently
practical
father
began
to
form
it
--
a
struggling
disposition
to
believe
in
a
wider
and
nobler
humanity
than
she
had
ever
heard
of
,
constantly
strove
with
doubts
and
resentments
.
With
doubts
,
because
the
aspiration
had
been
so
laid
waste
in
her
youth
.
With
resentments
,
because
of
the
wrong
that
had
been
done
her
,
if
it
were
indeed
a
whisper
of
the
truth
.
Upon
a
nature
long
accustomed
to
self-suppression
,
thus
torn
and
divided
,
the
Harthouse
philosophy
came
as
a
relief
and
justification
.
Everything
being
hollow
and
worthless
,
she
had
missed
nothing
and
sacrificed
nothing
.
What
did
it
matter
,
she
had
said
to
her
father
,
when
he
proposed
her
husband
.
What
did
it
matter
,
she
said
still
.
With
a
scornful
self-reliance
,
she
asked
herself
,
What
did
anything
matter
--
and
went
on
.
Towards
what
?
Step
by
step
,
onward
and
downward
,
towards
some
end
,
yet
so
gradually
,
that
she
believed
herself
to
remain
motionless
.
As
to
Mr.
Harthouse
,
whither
he
tended
,
he
neither
considered
nor
cared
.
He
had
no
particular
design
or
plan
before
him
:
no
energetic
wickedness
ruffled
his
lassitude
.
He
was
as
much
amused
and
interested
,
at
present
,
as
it
became
so
fine
a
gentleman
to
be
;
perhaps
even
more
than
it
would
have
been
consistent
with
his
reputation
to
confess
.
Soon
after
his
arrival
he
languidly
wrote
to
his
brother
,
the
honourable
and
jocular
member
,
that
the
Bounderbys
were
'
great
fun
;
'
and
further
,
that
the
female
Bounderby
,
instead
of
being
the
Gorgon
he
had
expected
,
was
young
,
and
remarkably
pretty
.
After
that
,
he
wrote
no
more
about
them
,
and
devoted
his
leisure
chiefly
to
their
house
.
He
was
very
often
in
their
house
,
in
his
flittings
and
visitings
about
the
Coketown
district
;
and
was
much
encouraged
by
Mr.
Bounderby
.
It
was
quite
in
Mr.
Bounderby
's
gusty
way
to
boast
to
all
his
world
that
he
did
n't
care
about
your
highly
connected
people
,
but
that
if
his
wife
Tom
Gradgrind
's
daughter
did
,
she
was
welcome
to
their
company
.
Отключить рекламу
Mr.
James
Harthouse
began
to
think
it
would
be
a
new
sensation
,
if
the
face
which
changed
so
beautifully
for
the
whelp
,
would
change
for
him
.
He
was
quick
enough
to
observe
;
he
had
a
good
memory
,
and
did
not
forget
a
word
of
the
brother
's
revelations
.
He
interwove
them
with
everything
he
saw
of
the
sister
,
and
he
began
to
understand
her
.
To
be
sure
,
the
better
and
profounder
part
of
her
character
was
not
within
his
scope
of
perception
;
for
in
natures
,
as
in
seas
,
depth
answers
unto
depth
;
but
he
soon
began
to
read
the
rest
with
a
student
's
eye
.
Mr.
Bounderby
had
taken
possession
of
a
house
and
grounds
,
about
fifteen
miles
from
the
town
,
and
accessible
within
a
mile
or
two
,
by
a
railway
striding
on
many
arches
over
a
wild
country
,
undermined
by
deserted
coal-shafts
,
and
spotted
at
night
by
fires
and
black
shapes
of
stationary
engines
at
pits
'
mouths
.
This
country
,
gradually
softening
towards
the
neighbourhood
of
Mr.
Bounderby
's
retreat
,
there
mellowed
into
a
rustic
landscape
,
golden
with
heath
,
and
snowy
with
hawthorn
in
the
spring
of
the
year
,
and
tremulous
with
leaves
and
their
shadows
all
the
summer
time
.
The
bank
had
foreclosed
a
mortgage
effected
on
the
property
thus
pleasantly
situated
,
by
one
of
the
Coketown
magnates
,
who
,
in
his
determination
to
make
a
shorter
cut
than
usual
to
an
enormous
fortune
,
overspeculated
himself
by
about
two
hundred
thousand
pounds
.
These
accidents
did
sometimes
happen
in
the
best
regulated
families
of
Coketown
,
but
the
bankrupts
had
no
connexion
whatever
with
the
improvident
classes
.
Отключить рекламу
It
afforded
Mr.
Bounderby
supreme
satisfaction
to
instal
himself
in
this
snug
little
estate
,
and
with
demonstrative
humility
to
grow
cabbages
in
the
flower-garden
.
He
delighted
to
live
,
barrack-fashion
,
among
the
elegant
furniture
,
and
he
bullied
the
very
pictures
with
his
origin
.
'
Why
,
sir
,
'
he
would
say
to
a
visitor
,
'
I
am
told
that
Nickits
,
'
the
late
owner
,
'
gave
seven
hundred
pound
for
that
Seabeach
.
Now
,
to
be
plain
with
you
,
if
I
ever
,
in
the
whole
course
of
my
life
,
take
seven
looks
at
it
,
at
a
hundred
pound
a
look
,
it
will
be
as
much
as
I
shall
do
.
No
,
by
George
!
I
do
n't
forget
that
I
am
Josiah
Bounderby
of
Coketown
.
For
years
upon
years
,
the
only
pictures
in
my
possession
,
or
that
I
could
have
got
into
my
possession
,
by
any
means
,
unless
I
stole
'em
,
were
the
engravings
of
a
man
shaving
himself
in
a
boot
,
on
the
blacking
bottles
that
I
was
overjoyed
to
use
in
cleaning
boots
with
,
and
that
I
sold
when
they
were
empty
for
a
farthing
a-piece
,
and
glad
to
get
it
!
'
Then
he
would
address
Mr.
Harthouse
in
the
same
style
.