The robbery at the Bank had not languished
before, and did not cease to occupy a front place
in the attention of the principal of that establishment
now. In boastful proof of his promptitude and
activity, as a remarkable man, and a self-made man,
and a commercial wonder more admirable than Venus,
who had risen out of the mud instead of the sea, he
liked to show how little his domestic affairs abated
his business ardour. Consequently, in the first
few weeks of his resumed bachelorhood, he even advanced
upon his usual display of bustle, and every day made
such a rout in renewing his investigations into the
robbery, that the officers who had it in hand almost
wished it had never been committed.
They were at fault too, and off the
scent. Although they had been so quiet since
the first outbreak of the matter, that most people
really did suppose it to have been abandoned as hopeless,
nothing new occurred. No implicated man or woman
took untimely courage, or made a self-betraying step.
More remarkable yet, Stephen Blackpool could not
be heard of, and the mysterious old woman remained
a mystery.
Things having come to this pass, and
showing no latent signs of stirring beyond it, the
upshot of Mr. Bounderby’s investigations was,
that he resolved to hazard a bold burst. He drew
up a placard, offering Twenty Pounds reward for the
apprehension of Stephen Blackpool, suspected of complicity
in the robbery of Coketown Bank on such a night; he
described the said Stephen Blackpool by dress, complexion,
estimated height, and manner, as minutely as he could;
he recited how he had left the town, and in what direction
he had been last seen going; he had the whole printed
in great black letters on a staring broadsheet; and
he caused the walls to be posted with it in the dead
of night, so that it should strike upon the sight
of the whole population at one blow.
The factory-bells had need to ring
their loudest that morning to disperse the groups
of workers who stood in the tardy daybreak, collected
round the placards, devouring them with eager eyes.
Not the least eager of the eyes assembled, were the
eyes of those who could not read. These people,
as they listened to the friendly voice that read aloud
— there was always some such ready to help them
— stared at the characters which meant so much
with a vague awe and respect that would have been
half ludicrous, if any aspect of public ignorance
could ever be otherwise than threatening and full
of evil. Many ears and eyes were busy with a
vision of the matter of these placards, among turning
spindles, rattling looms, and whirling wheels, for
hours afterwards; and when the Hands cleared out again
into the streets, there were still as many readers
as before.
Slackbridge, the delegate, had to
address his audience too that night; and Slackbridge
had obtained a clean bill from the printer, and had
brought it in his pocket. Oh, my friends and
fellow-countrymen, the down-trodden operatives of
Coketown, oh, my fellow-brothers and fellow-workmen
and fellow-citizens and fellowmen, what a to-do was
there, when Slackbridge unfolded what he called ’that
damning document,’ and held it up to the gaze,
and for the execration of the working-man community!
’Oh, my fellow-men, behold of what a traitor
in the camp of those great spirits who are enrolled
upon the holy scroll of Justice and of Union, is appropriately
capable! Oh, my prostrate friends, with the galling
yoke of tyrants on your necks and the iron foot of
despotism treading down your fallen forms into the
dust of the earth, upon which right glad would your
oppressors be to see you creeping on your bellies
all the days of your lives, like the serpent in the
garden — oh, my brothers, and shall I as a man
not add, my sisters too, what do you say, now, of
Stephen Blackpool, with a slight stoop in his shoulders
and about five foot seven in height, as set forth
in this degrading and disgusting document, this blighting
bill, this pernicious placard, this abominable advertisement;
and with what majesty of denouncement will you crush
the viper, who would bring this stain and shame upon
the God-like race that happily has cast him out for
ever! Yes, my compatriots, happily cast him
out and sent him forth! For you remember how
he stood here before you on this platform; you remember
how, face to face and foot to foot, I pursued him
through all his intricate windings; you remember how
he sneaked and slunk, and sidled, and splitted of
straws, until, with not an inch of ground to which
to cling, I hurled him out from amongst us:
an object for the undying finger of scorn to point
at, and for the avenging fire of every free and thinking
mind to scorch and scar! And now, my friends
— my labouring friends, for I rejoice and triumph
in that stigma — my friends whose hard but honest
beds are made in toil, and whose scanty but independent
pots are boiled in hardship; and now, I say, my friends,
what appellation has that dastard craven taken to
himself, when, with the mask torn from his features,
he stands before us in all his native deformity, a
What? A thief! A plunderer! A proscribed
fugitive, with a price upon his head; a fester and
a wound upon the noble character of the Coketown operative!
Therefore, my band of brothers in a sacred bond, to
which your children and your children’s children
yet unborn have set their infant hands and seals,
I propose to you on the part of the United Aggregate
Tribunal, ever watchful for your welfare, ever zealous
for your benefit, that this meeting does Resolve:
That Stephen Blackpool, weaver, referred to in this
placard, having been already solemnly disowned by
the community of Coketown Hands, the same are free
from the shame of his misdeeds, and cannot as a class
be reproached with his dishonest actions!’
Thus Slackbridge; gnashing and perspiring
after a prodigious sort. A few stern voices called
out ‘No!’ and a score or two hailed, with
assenting cries of ‘Hear, hear!’ the caution
from one man, ‘Slackbridge, y’or over
hetter in’t; y’or a goen too fast!’
But these were pigmies against an army; the general
assemblage subscribed to the gospel according to Slackbridge,
and gave three cheers for him, as he sat demonstratively
panting at them.
These men and women were yet in the
streets, passing quietly to their homes, when Sissy,
who had been called away from Louisa some minutes
before, returned.
‘Who is it?’ asked Louisa.
‘It is Mr. Bounderby,’
said Sissy, timid of the name, ’and your brother
Mr. Tom, and a young woman who says her name is Rachael,
and that you know her.’
‘What do they want, Sissy dear?’
‘They want to see you. Rachael has been
crying, and seems angry.’
‘Father,’ said Louisa,
for he was present, ’I cannot refuse to see
them, for a reason that will explain itself.
Shall they come in here?’
As he answered in the affirmative,
Sissy went away to bring them. She reappeared
with them directly. Tom was last; and remained
standing in the obscurest part of the room, near the
door.
‘Mrs. Bounderby,’ said
her husband, entering with a cool nod, ’I don’t
disturb you, I hope. This is an unseasonable
hour, but here is a young woman who has been making
statements which render my visit necessary.
Tom Gradgrind, as your son, young Tom, refuses for
some obstinate reason or other to say anything at all
about those statements, good or bad, I am obliged
to confront her with your daughter.’
‘You have seen me once before,
young lady,’ said Rachael, standing in front
of Louisa.
Tom coughed.
‘You have seen me, young lady,’
repeated Rachael, as she did not answer, ‘once
before.’
Tom coughed again.
‘I have.’
Rachael cast her eyes proudly towards
Mr. Bounderby, and said, ‘Will you make it known,
young lady, where, and who was there?’
’I went to the house where Stephen
Blackpool lodged, on the night of his discharge from
his work, and I saw you there. He was there
too; and an old woman who did not speak, and whom I
could scarcely see, stood in a dark corner.
My brother was with me.’
‘Why couldn’t you say
so, young Tom?’ demanded Bounderby.
‘I promised my sister I wouldn’t.’
Which Louisa hastily confirmed. ‘And besides,’
said the whelp bitterly, ’she tells her own 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 came to Stephen’s that night.’
‘I felt compassion for him,’
said Louisa, her colour 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.
‘Oh, 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 —
Oh, 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. Bounderby 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 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 of 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 a 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 began to change
its colour. 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 written in good faith, believing
that he really would come back, or warning him to
fly. On this point opinion was divided.
Six days, seven days, far on into
another week. The wretched whelp plucked up
a ghastly courage, and began to grow defiant.
’Was the suspected fellow the thief?
A pretty question! If not, where was the man,
and why did he not come back?’
Where was the man, and why did he
not come back? In the dead of night the echoes
of his own words, which had rolled Heaven knows how
far away in the daytime, came back instead, and abided
by him until morning.