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chewing rosebuds。 “I wish I had known you sooner； Mr
Harthouse。”
“Now； you see； Tom；” said Mr Harthouse in conclusion； himself
tossing over a rose or two； as a contribution to the island； which
was always drifting to the wall as if it wanted to become a part of
the mainland： “every man is selfish in everything he does； and I
am exactly like the rest of my fellow creatures。 I am desperately
intent；” the languor of his desperation being quite tropical； “on
your softening towards your sister—which you ought to do； and on
your being a more loving and agreeable sort of brother—which
you ought to be。”
“I will be； Mr Harthouse。”
“No time like the present； Tom。 Begin at once。”
“Certainly I will。 And my sister Loo shall say so。”
“Having made which bargain； Tom；” said Harthouse； clapping
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him on the shoulder again； with an air which left him at liberty to
infer—as he did； poor fool—that this condition was imposed upon
him in mere careless good nature to lessen his sense of obligation；
“we will tear ourselves asunder until dinner…time。”
When Tom appeared before dinner； though his mind seemed
heavy enough； his body was on the alert； and he appeared before
Mr Bounderby came in。 “I didn’t mean to be cross； Loo；” he said；
giving her his hand； and kissing her。 “I know you are fond of me；
and you know I am fond of you。”
After this； there was a smile upon Louisa’s face that day； for
some one else。 Alas； for some one else！
“So much the less is the whelp the only creature that she cares
for；” thought James Harthouse； reversing the reflection of his first
day’s knowledge of her pretty face。 “So much the less； so much the
less。”
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Chapter 8
Explosion
he next morning was too bright a morning for sleep； and
James Harthouse rose early； and sat in the pleasant bay
T
window of his dressing…room； smoking the rare tobacco
that had had so wholesome an influence on his young friend。
Reposing in the sunlight； with the fragrance of his eastern pipe
about him； and the dreamy smoke vanishing into the air； so rich
and soft with summer odours； he reckoned up his advantages as
an idle winner might count his gains。 He was not at all bored for
the time； and could give his mind to it。
He had established a confidence with her； from which her
husband was excluded。 He had established a confidence with her；
that absolutely turned upon her indifference towards her
husband； and the absence； now and at all times； of any
congeniality between them。 He had artfully； but plainly assured
her； that he knew her heart in its most delicate recesses； he had
come so near to her through its tenderest sentiment； he had
associated himself with that feeling； and the barrier behind which
she lived； melted away。 All very odd； and very satisfactory！
And yet he had not even now； any earnest wickedness of
purpose in him。 Publicly and privately； it were much better for the
age in which he lived； that he and the legion of whom he was one
were designedly bad； than indifferent and purposeless。 It is the
drifting icebergs setting with any current anywhere； that wreck
the ships。
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When the Devil goeth about like a roaring lion； he goeth about
in a shape by which few but savages and hunters are attracted。
But； when he is trimmed； smoothed； and varnished； according to
the mode： when he is aweary of vice； and aweary of virtue； used up
as to brimstone； and used up as to bliss； then； whether he take to
the serving out of red tape； or to the kindling of red fire； he is the
very Devil。
So； James Harthouse reclined in the window； indolently
smoking； and reckoning up the steps he had taken on the road by
which he happened to be travelling。 The end to which it led was
before him； pretty plainly； but he troubled himself with no
calculations about it。 What will be； will be。
As he had rather a long ride to take that day—for there was a
public occasion “to do” at some distance； which afforded a
tolerable opportunity of going in for the Gradgrind men—he
dressed early； and went down to breakfast。 He was anxious to see
if she had relapsed since the previous evening。 No。 He resumed
where he had left off。 The was a look of interest for him again。
He got through the day as much （or as little） to his own
satisfaction； as was to be expected under the fatiguing
circumstances； and came riding back at six o’clock。 There was a
sweep of some half mile between the lodge and the house； and he
was riding along at a foot pace over the smooth gravel； once
Nickits’s； when Mr Bounderby burst out of the shrubbery； with
such violence as to make his horse shy across the road。
“Harthouse；” cried Mr Bounderby。 “Have you heard？”
“Heard what？” said Harthouse； soothing his horse； and
inwardly favouring Mr Bounderby with no good wishes。
“Then you haven’t heard！”
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“I have heard you； and so has this brute。 I have heard nothing
else。”
Mr Bounderby； red and hot； planted himself in the centre of the
path before the horse’s head； to explode his bombshell with more
effect。
“The Bank’s robbed！”
“You don’t mean it！”
“Robbed last night； sir。 Robbed in an extraordinary manner。
Robbed with a false key。”
“Of much？”
Mr Bounde