all through wi' that, or else be hunted like a
hare?"

"Indeed, indeed, I pity him from my
heart," returned Louisa; "and I hope that
he will clear himself."

"You need have no fear of that, young
lady. He is sure!"

"All the surer, I suppose," said Mr.
Bounderby, "for your refusing to tell where he is?
Eh?"

"He shall not, through any act of mine,
come back wi' the unmerited reproach of
being brought back. He shall come back of
his own accord to clear himself, and put all
those that have injured his good character,
and he not here for its defence, to shame. I
have told him what has been done against
him," said Rachael, throwing off all distrust
as a rock throws off the sea, "and he will be
here, at furthest, in two days."

"Notwithstanding which," added Mr.
Bounderby, "if he can be laid hold of any sooner,
he shall have an earlier opportunity of clearing
himself. As to you, I have nothing
against you; what you came and told me
turns out to be true; and I have given you
the means of proving it to be true, and there's
an end of it. I wish you Good night all!
I must be off to look a little further into
this."

Tom came out of his corner when Mr.
Bounderby moved, moved with him, kept
close to him, and went away with him. The
only parting salutation of which he delivered
himself was a sulky "Good night, father!"
With that brief speech, and a scowl at his
sister, he left the house.

Since his sheet-anchor had come home, Mr.
Gradgrind had been sparing of speech. He
still sat silent, when Louisa mildly said:

"Rachael, you will not distrust me one
day, when you know me better."

"It goes against me," Rachael answered,
in a gentler manner, "to mistrust any one;
but when I am so mistrusted — when we all
are — I cannot keep such things quite out of
my mind. I ask your pardon for having done
you an injury. I don't think what I said,
now. Yet I might come to think it again,
wi' the poor lad so wronged."

"Did you tell him in your letter," inquired
Sissy, "that suspicion seemed to have fallen
upon him, because he had been seen about
the Bank at night? He would then know
what he would have to explain on coming
back, and would be ready."

"Yes, dear," she returned; "but I can't
guess what can have ever taken him there.
He never used to go there. It was never in
his way. His way was the same as mine, and
not near it."

Sissy had already been at her side asking
her where she lived, and whether she might
come to-morrow night, to inquire if there were
news of him.

"I doubt," said Rachael, "if he can be here
till next day."

"Then I will come next night too," said
Sissy.

When Rachael, assenting to this, was gone,
Mr. Gradgrind lifted up his head, and said to
his daughter:

"Louisa, my dear, I have never, that I
know of, seen this man. Do you believe him
to be implicated?"

"I think I have believed it, father, though
with great difficulty. I do not believe it
now."

"That is to say, you once persuaded yourself
to believe it, from knowing him to be
suspected. His appearance and manner; are
they so honest?"

"Very honest."

"And her confidence not to be shaken! I
ask myself," said Mr. Gradgrind, musing,
"does the real culprit know of these accusations?
Where is he? Who is he?"

His hair had latterly begun to change its
color. As he leaned upon his hand again,
looking gray and old, Louisa, with a face of
fear and pity, hurriedly went over to him,
and sat close at his side. Her eyes
by accident met Sissy's at the moment.
Sissy flushed and started, and Louisa put her
finger on her lip.

Next night, when Sissy returned home and
told Louisa that Stephen was not come, she
told it in a whisper. Next night again, when
she came home with the same account, and
added that he had not been heard of, she
spoke in the same low frightened tone. From
the moment of that interchange of looks, they
never uttered his name, or any reference to
him, aloud; nor ever pursued the subject of
the robbery, when Mr. Gradgrind spoke of it.

The two appointed days ran out, three
days and nights ran out, and Stephen Blackpool
was not come, and remained unheard of.
On the fourth day, Rachael, with unabated
confidence, but considering her despatch to
have miscarried, went up to the Bank, and
showed her letter from him with his address,
at a working colony, one of many, not upon
the main road, sixty miles away.
Messengers were sent to that place, and the whole
town looked for Stephen to be brought in
next day.

During this whole time the whelp moved
about with Mr. Bounderby like his shadow,
assisting in all the proceedings. He was greatly
excited, horribly fevered, bit his nails down to
the quick, spoke in a hard rattling voice, and
with lips that were black and burnt up. At
the hour when the suspected man was looked
for, the whelp was at the station; offering to
wager that he had made off before the arrival
of those who were sent in quest of him, and
that he would not appear.

The whelp was right. The messengers
returned alone. Rachael's letter had gone,
Rachael's letter had been delivered, Stephen
Blackpool had decamped in that same hour;
and no soul knew more of him. The only
doubt in Coketown was, whether Rachael had