accustomed to splendor, "but it is my duty to
remember," Mrs. Sparsit was fond of observing
with a lofty grace: particularly when any
of the domestics were present, "that what I
was, I am no longer. Indeed," said she,
"if I could altogether cancel the
remembrance that Mr. Sparsit was a Powler, or
that I myself am related to the Scadgers
family; or if I could even revoke the fact,
and make myself a person of common
descent and ordinary connexions; I would
gladly do so. I should think it, under existing
circumstances, right to do so." The same
Hermitical state of mind led to her renunciation
of made dishes and wines at dinner,
until fairly commanded by Mr. Bounderby
to take them; when she said, "Indeed you
are very good, sir;" and departed from a
resolution of which she had made rather
formal and public announcement, to "wait for
the simple mutton." She was likewise deeply
apologetic for wanting the salt; and, feeling
amiably bound to bear out Mr. Bounderby
to the fullest extent in the testimony he had
borne to her nerves, occasionally sat back
in her chair and silently wept; at which
periods a tear of large dimensions, like a
crystal ear-ring, might be observed (or
rather, must be, for it insisted on public
notice) sliding down her Roman nose.

But Mrs. Sparsit's greatest point, first and
last, was her determination to pity Mr.
Bounderby. There were occasions when in
looking at him she was involuntarily moved
to shake her head, as who should say, " Alas
poor Yorick! " After allowing herself to be
betrayed into these evidences of emotion, she
would force a lambent brightness, and would
be fitfully cheerful, and would say, "You
have still good spirits, sir, I am thankful to
find;" and would appear to hail it as a blessed
dispensation that Mr. Bounderby bore up as
he did. One idiosyncrasy for which she
often apologised, she found it excessively
difficult to conquer. She had a curious
propensity to call Mrs. Bounderby "Miss
Gradgrind," and yielded to it some three or four
score times in the course of the evening.
Her repetition of this mistake covered Mrs.
Sparsit with modest confusion; but indeed,
she said, it seemed so natural to say Miss
Gradgrind: whereas, to persuade herself
that the young lady whom she had had the
happiness of knowing from a child could be
really and truly Mrs. Bounderby, she found
almost impossible. It was a further
singularity of this remarkable case, that the more
she thought about it, the more impossible it
appeared; "the differences," she observed,
being such—"

In the drawing-room after dinner, Mr.
Bounderby tried the case of the robbery,
examined the witnesses, made notes of the
evidence, found the suspected persons guilty,
and sentenced them to the extreme punishment
of the law. That done, Bitzer was
dismissed to town with instructions to
recommend Tom to come home by the
mail-train

When candles were brought, Mrs. Sparsit
murmured, "Don't be low, sir. Pray let me
see you cheerful, sir, as I used to do." Mr.
Bounderby, upon whom these consolations
had begun to produce the effect of making
him, in a bull-headed blundering way,
sentimental, sighed like some large sea-animal.
"I cannot bear to see you so, sir," said
Mrs. Sparsit. "Try a hand at backgammon,
sir, as you used to do when I had the honor
of living under your roof." "I haven't played
backgammon, ma'am," said Mr. Bounderby,.
"since that time." "No, sir," said Mrs.
Sparsit, soothingly, "I am aware that you
have not. I remember that Miss Gradgrind
takes no interest in the game. But I shall
be happy, sir, if you will condescend."

They played near a window, opening on the
garden. It was a fine night: not moonlight,
but sultry and fragrant. Louisa and Mr.
Harthouse strolled out into the garden, where
their voices could be heard in the stillness,
though not what they said. Mrs. Sparsit,
from her place at the backgammon board,
was constantly straining her eyes to pierce
the shadows without. "What's the matter,
ma'am?" said Mr. Bounderby; "you don't
see a Fire, do you?" "Oh dear no, sir,"
returned Mrs. Sparsit, "I was thinking of the
dew?" "What have you got to do with
the dew, ma'am?" said Mr. Bounderby.
''It's not myself, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit,
"I am fearful of Miss Gradgrind's
taking cold." "She never takes cold," said
Mr. Bounderby. "Really, sir? " said Mrs.
Sparsit. And was affected with a cough in
her throat.

When the time drew near for retiring, Mr.
Bounderby took a glass of water. "Oh, sir?"
said Mrs. Sparsit. "Not your sherry warm,
with lemon-peel and nutmeg?" "Why, I
have got out of the habit of taking it
now, ma'am," said Mr. Bounderby. "The
more's the pity, sir," returned Mrs. Sparsit;
"you are losing all your good old habits.
Cheer up, sir! If Miss Gradgrind will permit
me, I wiil offer to make it for you, as I
have often done."

Miss Gradgrind readily permitting Mrs.
Sparsit to do anything she pleased, that
considerate lady made the beverage, and
handed it to Mr. Bounderby. "It will do
you good, sir. It will warm your heart.
It is the sort of thing you want, and ought to
take, sir." And when Mr. Bouuderby said,
"Your health, ma'am!" she answered with
great feeling, "Thank you, sir. The same to
you, and happiness also." Finally, she wished
him good night, with great pathos; and Mr.
Bounderby went to bed, with a maudlin
persuasion that he had been crossed in
something tender, though he could not, for his life
have mentioned what it was.

Long after Louisa had undressed and
lain down, she watched and waited for her