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shortly； Mr Tom？”
“Why； I expect to see him tomorrow；” returned the whelp。
“Good news！” cried Mrs Sparsit； blandly。
“I have got an appointment with him to meet him in the
evening at the station here；” said Tom； “and I am going to dine
with him afterwards； I believe。 He is not coming down to the
country house for a week or so； being due somewhere else。 At
least； he says so； but I shouldn’t wonder if he was to stop here over
Sunday； and stray that way。”
“Which reminds me！” said Mrs Sparsit。 “Would you remember
a message to your sister； Mr Tom； if I was to charge you with
one？”
“Well？ I’ll try；” returned the reluctant whelp； “if it isn’t a long
un。”
“It is merely my respectful compliments；” said Mrs Sparsit；
“and I fear I may not trouble her with my society this week； being
still a little nervous； and better perhaps by my poor self。”
“Oh！ if that’s all；” observed Tom； “it wouldn’t much matter；
even if I was to forget it； for Loo’s not likely to think of you unless
she sees you。”
Having paid for his entertainment with this agreeable
compliment； he relapsed into a hangdog silence until Mrs Sparsit；
I must be off！” and went off。
Next day； Saturday； Mrs Sparsit sat at her window all day long：
looking at the customers coming and out； watching the postman；
keeping an eye on the general traffic of the street； revolving many
things in her mind； but； above all； keeping her attention on her
staircase。 The evening came； she put on her bonnet and shawl；
and went quietly out： having her reasons for hovering in a furtive
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way about the station by which a passenger would arrive from
Yorkshire； and for preferring to peep into it round pillars and
corners； and out of ladies’ waiting…room windows； to appearing in
its precincts openly。
Tom was in attendance； and loitered about until the expected
train came in。 It brought no Mr Harthouse。 Tom waited until the
crowd had dispersed； and the bustle was over； and then referred
to a posted list of strolled away idly； stopping in the street and
looking up it and down it； and lifting his hat off and putting it on
again； and yawning and stretching himself； and exhibiting all the
symptoms of mortal weariness to be expected in one who had still
to wait until the next train should come in； an hour and forty
minutes hence。
“This is a device to keep him out of the way；” said Mrs Sparsit；
starting from the dull office window whence she had watched him
last。 “Harthouse is with his sister now！”
It was the conception of an inspired moment； and she shot off
with her utmost swiftness to work it out。 The station for the
country house was at the opposite end of the town； the time was
short； the road not easy； but she was so quick on pouncing on a
disengaged coach； so quick in darting out of it； producing her
money； seizing her ticket； and diving into the train； that she was
borne along the arches spanning the land of coal…pits past and
present； as if she had been caught up in a cloud and whirled away。
All the journey； immovable in the air though never left behind；
plain to the dark eyes of her mind； as the electric wires which
ruled a colossal strip of music paper out of the evening sky； was
plain to the dark eyes of her body； Mrs Sparsit saw her staircase
with the figure coming down。 Very near the bottom now。 Upon the
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Hard Times 267
brink of the abyss。
An overcast September evening； just at nightfall； saw beneath
its drooping eyelid Mrs Sparsit glide out of her carriage； pass
down the wooden steps of the little station into a stony road； cross
it into a green lane； and become hidden in a summer…growth of
leaves and branches。 One or two late birds sleepily chirping in
their nests； and a bat heavily crossing and recrossing her； and the
reek of her own tread in the thick dust that felt like velvet； were all
Mrs Sparsit heard or saw until she very softly closed a gate。
She went up to the house； keeping within the shrubbery； and
went round it； peeping between the leaves at the lower windows。
Most of them were open； as they usually were in such warm
weather； but there were no lights yet； and all was silent。 She tried
the garden with no better effect。 She thought of the wood； and
stole towards it； heedless of long grass and briers： of worms； snails；
and slugs； and all the creeping things that be。 With her dark eyes
and her hook nose warily in advance of her； Mrs Sparsit softly
crushed her way through the thick undergrowth； so intent upon
her object that she probably would have done no less； if the wood
had been a wood of adders。
Hark！
The smaller birds might have tumbled out of their nests；
fascinated by the glittering of Mrs Sparsit’s eyes in the gloom； as
she stopped and listened。
Low voices close at hand。 His voice and hers。 The appointment
was a device to keep the brother away！ There they were yonder；
by the felled tree。
Bending low among the dewy grass； Mrs Sparsit advanced
closer to them。 She drew herself up； and stood behind a tree； like
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Hard Times 268
Robinson Crusoe in his ambuscade against the savages； so near to
them that at a spring； and that no great one； she could have
touched them both。 He was there secretly； and had not shown
himself at the house。 He had come on horseback； and must have
passed through the neighbouring fields； for his horse was tied to
the meadow side of the fence； within a few paces。
“My dearest love；” said he； “what could I do？ Knowing you
were alone； was it possible that I could stay away？”
“You may hang your head； to make yourself the more
attractive； I don’t know what they see in you when you hold it up；”
thought Mrs Sparsit； “but you little think； my dearest love； whose
eyes are on you！”
That she hung her head was certain。 She urged him to go away；
she commanded him to go away； but she neither turned her face
to him； nor raised it。 Yet it was remarkable that she sat as still as
ever the amiable woman in ambuscade had seen her sit； at any
period in her life。 Her hands rested in one another； like the hands
of a statue； and even her manner of speaking was not hurried。
“My dear child；” said Harthouse； Mrs Sparsit saw with delight
that his arm embraced her； “will you not bear with my society for
a little while？”
“Not here。”
“Where； Louisa？”
“Not here。”
“But we have so little time to make so much of； and I have come
so far； and am altogether so devoted and distracted。 There never
was a slave at once so devoted and ill…used by his mistress。 To look
for your sunny welcome that has warmed me into life； and to be
received in your frozen manner； is heart…rending。”
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“Am I to say again； that I must be left to myself here？”
“But we must meet； my dear Louisa。 Where shall we meet？”
They both started。 The listener started； guiltily； too； for she
thought there was another listener among the trees。 It was only
rain； beginning to fall fast； in heavy drops。
“Shall I ride up to the house a few minutes hence； innocently
supposing that its master is at home and will be charmed to
rec