story so precious well — and so full — that
what business had I to take it out of her
mouth!"

"Say, young lady, if you please," pursued
Rachael, "why, in an evil hour, you ever
come to Stephen's that night."

"I felt compassion for him," said Louisa,
her color deepening, "and I wished to know
what he was going to do, and wished to offer
him assistance."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Bounderby.
"Much flattered and obliged."

"Did you offer him," asked Rachael, "a
bank note?"

"Yes; but he refused it, and would only
take two pounds in gold."

Rachael cast her eyes towards Mr.
Bounderby again.

"Oh certainly!" said Bounderby. "If you
put the question whether your ridiculous and
improbable account was true or not, I am
bound to say it's confirmed."

"Young lady," said Rachael, "Stephen
Blackpool is now named as a thief in public
print all over this town, and where else!
There have been a meeting to-night where
he have been spoken of in the same shameful
way. Stephen! The honestest lad, the truest
lad, the best!" Her indignation failed her,
and she broke off, sobbing.

"I am very, very sorry," said Louisa.

"O young lady, young lady," returned
Rachael, "I hope you may be, but I don't
know! I can't say what you may ha' done!
The like of you don't know us, don't care
for us, don't belong to us. I am not sure why
you may ha' come that night. I can't tell
but what you may ha' come wi' some aim
of your own, not mindin to what trouble you
brought such as the poor lad. I said then,
Bless you for coming; and I said it of my
heart, you seemed to take so pitifully to him;
but I don't know now, I don't know!"

Louisa could not reproach her for her
unjust suspicions; she was so faithful to her
idea of the man, and so afflicted.

"And when I think," said Rachael through
her sobs, "that the poor lad was so grateful,
thinkin you so good to him — when I mind
that he put his hand over his hard-worken
face to hide the tears that you brought up
there — O, I hope you may be sorry, and ha'
no bad cause to be it; but I don't know, I
don't know!"

"You're a pretty article," growled the
whelp, moving uneasily in his dark corner,
"to come here with these precious imputations!
You ought to be bundled out for not
knowing how to behave yourself, and you
would be by rights."

She said nothing in reply; and her low
weeping was the only sound that was heard,
until Mr. Bounderby spoke.

"Come!" said he, "you know what you
have engaged to do. You had better give
your mind to that; not this."

"Deed, I am loath," returned Rachael,
drying her eyes, "that any here should see
me like this; but I won't be seen so again.
Young lady, when I had read what's put
in print of Stephen —and what has just
as much truth in it as if it had been put
in print of you — I went straight to the
Bank to say I knew where Stephen was, and
to give a sure and certain promise that he
should be here in two days. I couldn't meet
wi' Mr. Bouuderby then, and your brother
sent me away, and I tried to find you, but
you was not to be found, and I went back to
work. Soon as I come out of the Mill to-
night, I hastened to hear what was said of
Stephen — for I know wi' pride he will come
back to shame it!—and then I went again to
seek Mr. Bounderby, and I found him, and I
told him every word I knew; and he believed
no word I said, and brought me here."

"So far, that's true enough," assented
Mr. Bounderby, with his hands in his pockets
and his hat on. "But I have known you
people before to-day, you'll observe, and I
know you never die for want of talking.
Now, I recommend you not so much to mind
talking just now, as doing. You have undertaken
to do something; all I remark upon
that at present is, do it!"

"I have written to Stephen by the post that
went out this afternoon, as I have written to
him once before sin' he went away," said
Rachael; "and he will be here, at furthest,
in two days."

"Then, I'll tell you something. You are
not aware, perhaps," retorted Mr. Bounderby,
"that you yourself have been looked after
now and then, not being considered quite free
from suspicion in this business, on account of
most people being judged according to the
company they keep. The post-office hasn't
been forgotten either. What I'll tell you is,
that no letter to Stephen Blackpool has ever
got into it. Therefore, what has become of
yours, I leave you to guess. Perhaps you're
mistaken, and never wrote any."

"He hadn't been gone from here, young
lady," said Rachael, turning appealingly to
Louisa, "as much as a week, when he sent
me the only letter I have had from him,
saying that he was forced to seek work in
another name."

"Oh, by George!" cried Bounderby,
shaking his head, with a whistle, "he changes
his name, does he! That's rather unlucky,
too, for such an immaculate chap. It's
considered a little suspicious in Courts of Justice,
I believe, when an Innocent happens to
have many names."

"What," said Rachael, with the tears in
her eyes again, "what, young lady, in the
name of Mercy, was left the poor lad to do!
The masters against him on one hand, the
men against him on the other, he only wantin
to work hard in peace, and do what he felt
right. Can a man have no soul of his own,
no mind of his own? Must he go wrong all
through wi' this side, or must he go wrong