"Some revelation, then, from the heavens ?" she the Protestants. I shall tell Guise that I will decoy the Queen's letter. Francis read it hastily, and then inquired in some agitation. Condé !" "I do not deny it !" replied Acevedo. "This at least will be true, most gracious lady," "And what did you read-what saw you? Tell said Acevedo, shrewdly. me, I entreat you!" "Streams of blood!" replied the astrologer, solemnly, "which flowed around your majesty like a sea,-streams of crimson blood!" "And I!" asked the Queen, trembling. "You stood on a rock, and the blood flowed around you; but your hand was dyed with crimson!" The Queen shuddered. " a second time, smiling as he did so. "Inform the Queen," he said, "that I intend, if it pleases her Majesty, to reply to her letter in person." Enough; only tell me, shall I take this step?" Acevedo made no opposition, and Catherine, seeing Acavedo made a reverence, and departed; but as that nothing more could be elicited from the astrologer, he left the tent, he observed the sorrowful boy in desired him to come to her in another hour, as it was the same position by the tree, weeping bitterly, and her pleasure that he should deliver the letter to Guise. | wringing his hands in agony. His youthful sorAt the expiration of that time he returned, and the row touched the astrologer, as approaching him, he Queen put the letter into his hands, with these said,words, "Remember, part with it to no hand but to that of "Proceed," she said; or give me rather your opinion of the result of the present policy-will you | Francis of Guise.” not ?" "The sword will be the conclusion. Thousands will fall, but no good end shall be achieved." "Nothing! And Guise? Saint André ?” Having mutely received the command, Acevedo departed, hiding the precious document in his girdle. "Their hour draws near! Their stars are going CHAPTER VIII. down below Mars. They shall fall,-Guise by the assassin's hand!" Catherine stepped to the window to conceal her gratification at these words. "How stand the affairs of the Huguenots?" she asked, after a pause. "I may not tell you this-clouds obscured the view. Day broke, and my work was ended." The Queen paced the chamber with rapid steps. It was curious to mark the conflict between her 66 'Why are you in such grief, my son ?" The boy looked doubtfully at him for a moment, and at length said, "They have loaded my master with chains-with chains, like a robber; and, oh! what will become of me in this strange, desolate city?" "Come with me, my lad," said Acevedo; "per-THE ASTROLOGER AND THE QUEEN haps I may be able to render thy master some assistance, and even, if not, and thou art faithful and good, thou shalt remain in my service." REGENT-A CONFERENCE WITH COLIGNY-GUI AFTER passing an hour or two in his apartment, Acevedo stepped out and directed his course to the quarters of the Duke, which lay without the city walls. Francis was seated in the midst of his troops in a magnificent tent, and attended by his the singular and imposing figure of the astrologer gallant officers. Through the long lines of soldiery But the boy shook his head sorrowfully. suffered himself to be led away from the camp. He took the young hand, and the lad at length natural pride and the emotions which she could not rapidly passed to the Duke's presence, where every When they had passed the walls, however, he repress. thing was in a state of excitement and commotion, a man in chains having been conducted to Francis for The astrologer stood like a statue, but his eye fol- examination, and causing the utmost buzz and conlowed all her movements, and each changing expres-fusion among the soldiers. At a short distance, sion of her face, whilst a smile might be seen to lurk leaning against a tree for support, was a lad, appaon his countenance. rently about fifteen. Pale but beautiful was his After a time the Queen threw herself on the couch, motioning to Acevedo, as she did so, to sit down beside her. "My affairs are no secret from you, it seems, Acevedo," she said, "and my plans are clearly laid out before your eyes. You know that I thought it possible that in throwing myself in Condé's arms, I should be rid of the Guises. I was mistaken. You are aware what a sacrifice it cost me. You know how my inmost spirit revolted from the step, and from the necessity of appearing to favor the heresy which my soul abhors, and how hard has been the “You must tarry awhile, master," said Tavannes, who had often seen the astrologer at the Louvre. "My commission admits of no delay, my Lord Marquis, for I come from the Queen Mother herself. Announce me, my lord!" policy which led me to suffer their accursed preachers the tent, returned immediately with permission to The Marquis no longer hesitated, and, entering to open their lips within the precincts of my palace ;* asked, "But whither would you take me?" "To the Louvre, where I will intercede for thy master at the Queen's footstool. Trust to me." After having placed the boy in his apartment, and hastened with the Duke's answer to the Queen, he returned, and began to question him as to the cause of his master's trouble, and the reason of his visit to the metropolis. The boy seemed confused, and replied that the true cause he did not know, but that he suspected with the fact that the hamlet where they resided had the reason of his quitting Dauphiny to be connected declared in favor of the Catholics. They had been detained at the outposts of the town, Montluc had recognized his master, taken him prisoner and conducted him to the Duke. Dur had observed him attentively. When he had coning this recital, which was broken by sobs, Acevedo and what have I gained but the hatred of the Guises?/Acevedo to speak to the Duke. Saint André, Mont- cluded, he took the hand of the boy. It was smooth, Counsel me now, good Acevedo, on my future luc, and Poltrot de Meré,* the notorious murderer of course!" "Your Majesty can scarcely need my advice," returned Acevedo, sarcastically; “but I will say this much-beware of St. André of Guise, and the old Constable !" Catherine was irritated. She had not anticipated that Acevedo would have withheld his advice. "Why," she said angrily, "why refuse the counsel which you have always been ready to give at the very moment that you perceive my affairs look serious? It appears to me that there is but one way open, and that is, to write to Guise, and unfold to him my true purpose. With a lie I must still clothe every act to "The Queen," says Maimbourg, "permitted ministers to preach in the Prince's apartments, which were thronged." -Hist. de Calvanisme," livre ii. Guise, were present. The Duke was seated on a "It concerns your Highness alone!" was the At a signal from the Duke, every one retired- * John Poltrot de Meré, or Merey, a gentleman of Augoulėmo, had several times changed his religious opinions, and during one of his fluctuations was seized with the horrid dosire of assassinating Francis of Guise. He soon found means to execute the fanatical purpose, and Guise died of the wounds inflicted.-Vie de Coligny. small, and white; at once discovering the secret- dence." The girl, for it was indeed Gabrielle, sank down on her knees, and earnestly besought compassion and secrecy. "Rise, maiden," said Acevedo, "we may kneel only to God. Come," he said, taking her hand tenderly, "before Him I promise to fulfil a father's duty to you; but the ground on which we stand is dangerous. Your concealment here must be strict. You must pass as my servant still, Gabrielle, and I, oh that I could imagine you were indeed my son." He folded the weeping girl in his arms, and with a father's love and tenderness wiped the tears from her fair cheeks, and then, leaving her to offer up her simple thanksgiving for deliverance in a time of such extremity, he sought the Queen's presence. cabinet, whence the way to his own apartment led "You are come at the right time, Master Ace- "Good," replied Acevedo, as he handed him a vedo," was Catherine's greeting. "Saint André, letter, which the figure taking in silence, vanished. has but this moment left me. One of the vile Hu- In a large hall of the Provost's house at Orleans guenots is just captured, one whom I suspect has Admiral Coligny was seated at a table covered with contributed no little to the disturbance in Dauphiny. papers and letters, in the perusal of which he seemed The fox is caught in the snare. Saint André is of wholly absorbed. At a little distance, his head opinion that we should make a right ghastly exam-sunk on his breast, was a stranger, who had entered ple of the heretic." "I am too little acquainted with Dauphiny," said Acevedo, "to know to whom your Majesty alludes. Will you call the heretic by name ?" the town on the previous night unseen by the patrole, and had been closeted more than three hours with the Admiral. Coligny was clad in a green suit, over which he wore his rich armor, and the scarf of his party. By the side of this noble figure, "Surely not the member of parliament who so the grotesquely attired stranger made a somewhat long since "The Baron Viole d'Arbeque." But the Queen interrupted him, as with an expression of passionate hatred she said— “Ah, if it were! never more mention that name to me." "And she never questioned you as to your faith?" "Never." "Nor your home?" "My Lord Admiral," replied the astrologer, bitterly, "the Queen has never questioned me so ciosely as you have done. I am not your servant; I seek neither reward nor benefit at your hands. Be content, therefore. It grieves me to speak thus to you, but you compel me. Think as you please of me; I am become very callous to human opinion. To one above, and to him only, am I responsible. I have nothing on earth to fear, nothing, in truth, to hope on this side of the grave. Adieu!" He rose, and Coligny grasped his hand. "Poor fellow," he said compassionately, "yours is indeed a sad lot." The Admiral's kind tone touched the stranger. singular appearance. A long, rusty, brown mantle, "God reward you," he said, " for doing justice to fastened round the waist by a wide band, flowed a poor outcast." And releasing his hand from around the tall form, which was bent less from age Coligny's, he turned to the window, and relapsed than suffering. His dark hair, here and there frosted into a state of apparent insensibility to surrounding over, fell upon his shoulders, and his beard reached objects. At this moment the door opened, and an to his waist. His face was colorless, his cheeks officer announced some arrival; permission being sunken, his whole expression fearfully and mourn-given, he disappeared, and soon returned with a Acevedo was secretly amused at the royal lady's vehemence, but replied"And what may the Queen propose to com- fully serious. The thoughtful eyes were sunk deep in his head, and from these alone proceeded any mark of life to relieve the cold, stern appearance of the countenance. mand?" "I have not determined," she said. "He must remain a while in the Bastile, and I must consult the Triumviri." "Must! How long has it been since the Queen Regent has been compelled to ask advice of any one contrary to her own judgment, and the natural kindness of her heart." stranger. The Admiral appeared annoyed, and heartily wished Acevedo would take his departure; but the appearance of the young man who now stood before A deep stillness reigned in the apartment, broken him soon directed his thoughts into another channel. at length by Coligny. Very gracefully, and with much reverence, the soldier presented a letter to Coligny. "This is an act of forbearance truly, of which I did not believe that woman capable; but it savors too much of Italian cunning to inspire confidence." The stranger interrupted him in a low, hollow voice. Catherine rose proudly. There was a momentary struggle. "You are right, Acevedo," she said; "it is some-said; " for she cannot do this." times wisdom to yield, but advise me." "I would recommend you," continued Acevedo, "neither to break entirely with the one party, nor to enter into a bond of union with the other. Your pursuance of this line of conduct has hitherto excited the admiration and wonder of every one. Have you cause to repent it?" Cunning as Catherine de Medici was, she was still a woman; and the flattery had the greater effect as it was from the lips of a man who was not wont to deal in courtly language. "I see, Acevedo," she said, "you are not skilled in astrology alone. But what is to be done in the present case?" "Very good news," returned the youth. "I "That she will deceive me there is no fear," he found him well, and left him actively engaged in your service." "My mind misgives me, however,” replied Coligny, "that she would make me her dupe ;" and returning to the table, he examined the paper sharply, looking from the letter to his companion in a doubtful, scrutinizing manner. Man," he said at length, "if this is any roguery or treachery of thine, what punishment could be sufficiently heavy for thee?" "None,” replied the stranger, without a change of countenance. "I reply, none!" and he looked steadily at Coligny. "Welcome tidings," replied Coligny, unfolding the letter. "You have a warm recommendation, truly," he added, after a pause, "and Maugiron's good word goes far with me, I can tell you. You bring me some brave recruits, too. Is it not so? How many do you number?" "One hundred, my lord." “And your own courage and skill to boot. Right welcome! Have you ever been in an engagement?" "Under your command, my lord, I hope for the Face to face the two men thus stood without first time in my life to wield the sword for my speaking a syllable, until the Admiral took the astro-country." loger by the hand, and said—" Acevedo, I rely on “I would,” replied the astrologer, "keep the he- thee. I can identify the writing; but how came you retic safely in the Bastile as a treasure which, sooner by it?" or later, will be of value for your purposes. In the meantime absolute silence is needful." Catherine considered a few seconds and then said, Perhaps you are right; I will follow your counsel." Acevedo devoutly thanked Heaven for the result of their conference; but he knew too well the double dealings of the Queen to rely with anything like certainty on her promise. "You have commanded the little troop on your way hither, at all events," he said pleasantly. “Are you pleased with your men?" "Quite so." "That is my secret, my lord Thus much you know, that I am in the Queen's confidence, that I "Then you may continue their commander in the reside in the palace of the Louvre; and know, fur-field; and I hope ere long to find that you merit prother, that the only happiness which remains to me motion." in my lonely and wretched life is that of helping forward the holy cause of Protestantism-ask nonestly. more." "My will is good, my lord," said the youth ear "I wish you God speed!" returned the Admiral, “Yet answer one question, I entreat. How came deeply interested in the zeal of the youth. "But stay; what does Maugiron say about your name? Truly he has written so hastily that he has omitted it." Before leaving her presence he entreated permis-you by the confidence of such a woman?" sion for a few days of undisturbed privacy in order "I read in the stars the fate of Catherine," he to carry on his observations at this important crisis answered proudly; "and one on whom she relies recommended me to her in the capacity of astro of her affairs. The request was willingly granted, and he left the loger." "Gui de Viole de St. Flore," was the reply. To be Continued. HARD TIMES. BY CHARLES DICKENS. (Continued.) "You think so, don't you?" said Tom. And shut up his eye again. Mr. James Harthouse smiled; and rising from his end of the sofa, and lounging with his back against the chimney-piece, so that he stood before the empty fire-grate as he smoked, in front of Tom, and looking down at him, observed: "What a comical brother-in-law you are!" "What a comical brother-in-law old Bounderby is, I think you mean," said Tom. "You are a piece of caustic, Tom," returned Mr. James Harthouse. There was something so very agreeable in being so intimate with such a waistcoat; in being called Tom, by such a voice; in being on such off-hand terms so soon, with such a pair of whiskers; that Tom was uncommonly pleased with himself. "Oh! I don't care for old Bounderby," said he, "If you mean that. I have always called old Bounderby by the same name when I have talked about him, and I have always thought of him in the same way. I am not going to begin to be polite now, about old Bounderby. It would be rather late in the day." his head on the end of the sofa, and smoking with an infinite assumption of negligence, turned his common face, and not too sober eyes, towards the face looking down upon him so carelessly yet so potently. "You know our governor, Mr. Harthouse," said Tom, "and therefore you needn't be surprised that Loo married old Bounderby. She never had a lover, and the governor proposed old Bounderby, and she She used to complain to me that she had nothing to fall back upon; and I don't see how she is to have got over that since. But she don't mind," he sagaciously added, puffing at his cigar again. "Girls can always get on somehow." "Calling at the bank yesterday evening, for Mr. Bounderby's address, I found an ancient lady there, who seems to entertain great admiration for your sister," observed Mr. James Harthouse, throwing "Very dutiful in your interesting sister," said Mr. away the last small remnant of the cigar he had James Harthouse. now smoked out. took him." "Yes, but she wouldn't have been as dutiful and it would not have come off as easily," returned the whelp, "if it hadn't been for me." "Mother Sparsit?" said Tom. have seen her already, have you?" "What! you His friend nodded. Tom took his cigar out of his The tempter merely lifted his eyebrows; but the mouth, to shut up his eye (which had grown rather whelp was obliged to go on. 'I persuaded her," he said, with an edifying air of superiority. "I was stuck into old Bounderby's bank (where I never wanted to be), and I knew I should get into scrapes there, if she put old Bounderby's pipe out; so I told her my wishes, and she came into them. She would do anything for me. It was very game of her, wasn't it?" "It was charming, Tom!" "Not that it was altogether so important to her as it was to me," continued Tom coolly, "because my liberty and comfort, and perhaps my getting on, depended on it; and she had no other lover, and staying at home was like staying in jail—especially "Don't mind me," returned James; "but take when I was gone. It wasn't as if she gave up ancare when his wife is by, you know." other lover for old Bounderby; but still it was a good thing in her." 'His wife?" said Tom. "My sister Loo? O yes!" And he laughed, and took a little more of the cooling drink. James Harthouse continued to lounge in the same place and attitude, smoking his cigar in his own easy way, and looking pleasantly at the whelp, as if he knew himself to be a kind of agreeable demon who had only to hover over him, and he must give up his whole soul if required. It certainly did seem that the whelp yielded to this influence. He looked at his companion sneakingly, he looked at him admiringly, he looked at him boldly, and put up one leg on the sofa. My sister Loo?" said Tom. "She never cared for old Bounderby." "That's the past tense, Tom," returned Mr. James Harthouse, striking the ash from his cigar with his little finger. We are in the present tense, now." "Perfectly delightful. And she gets on so placidly." unmanageable) with the greater expression, and to tap his nose several times with his finger. "Mother Sparsit's feeling for Loo is more than admiration, I should think," said Tom. "Say affection and devotion. Mother Sparsit never set her cap at Bounderby when he was a bachelor. Oh no!" These were the last words spoken by the whelp, before a giddy drowsiness came upon him, followed by complete oblivion. He was roused from the latter state by an uneasy dream of being stirred up with a boot, and also of a voice saying: "Come, it's late. Be off!" "Well!" he said, scrambling from the sofa. "I must take my leave of you though. I say. Your's is very good tobacco. But it's too mild.” Tom. "Yes, it's too mild," returned his entertainer. "It's-it's ridiculously mild," said "Where's the door? Good night!" He had another odd dream of being taken by a waiter through a mist, which, after giving him some trouble and difficulty, resolved itself into the main street, in which he stood alone. He then walked home pretty easily, though not yet free from an impression of the presence and influence of his new friend-as if he were lounging somewhere in the air, in the same negligent attitude, regarding Hart-him with the same look. "Oh," returned Tom, with contemptuous patronage, "she's a regular girl. A girl can get on anywhere. She has settled down to the life, and she don't mind. The life does just as well for her, as another. Besides, though Loo is a girl, she's not a common sort of girl. She can shut herself up within herself, and think-as I have often known her sit and watch the fire-for an hour at a stretch." "Ay, ay? Has resources of her own," said house, smoking quietly. Not so much of that as you may suppose," returned Tom; "for our governor had her crammed with all sorts of dry bones and sawdust. It's his system." "Formed his daughter on his own model?" suggested Harthouse. "Verb neuter, not to care. Indicative mood, present tense. First person singular, I do not care; "His daughter? Ah! and everybody else. Why, second person singular, thou dost not care; third | he formed Me that way," said Tom. person singular, she does not care," returned Tom. “Good! Very quaint !” said his friend. “Though you don't mean it." The whelp went home, and went to bed. If he had had any sense of what he had done that night, and had been less of a whelp and more of a brother, he might have turned short on the road, might have gone down to the ill-smelling river that was dyed and have curtained his head for ever with its filthy black, might have gone to bed in it for good and all, waters. "He did though," said Tom, shaking his head. 66 "I mean to say, Mr. Harthouse, that when I first left home and went to old Bounderby's, I was as flat as a warming-pan, and knew no more about life, than any oyster does." "My dear fellow," returned the other, "what am's I bound to suppose, when I find two married people living in harmony and happiness?" Tom had by this time got both his legs on the sofa. If his second leg had not been already there when he was called a dear fellow, he would have put it up at that great stage of the conversation. Feeling it necessary to do something then, he stretched himself out at greater length, and, reclining with the back of of Coketown! Oh my friends and fellowcountrymen, the slaves of an iron-handed and a grinding despotism! Oh my friends and fellowsufferers, and fellow-workmen, and fellow-men! I "Come, Tom! I can hardly believe that. A joke tell you that the hour is come, when we must rally a joke." round one another as One united power, and crumble into dust the oppressors that too long have fattened upon the plunder of our families, upon the sweat of our brows, upon the labor of our hands, upon the strength of our sinews, upon the Godcreated glorious rights of Humanity, and upon the holy and eternal privileges of Brotherhood!" "Good!" "Hear, hear, hear!" "Hurrah!" and 66 Upon my soul!" said the whelp. "I am serious; I am indeed!" He smoked with great gravity and dignity for a little while, and then added, in a highly complacent tone, "Oh! I have picked up a little, since. I don't deny that. But I have done it myself; no thanks to the governor." "And your intelligent sister?" "My intelligent sister is about where she was. other cries, arose in many voices from various parts of the densely crowded and suffocatingly close Hall, in which the orator, perched on a stage, delivered himself of this and what other froth and fume he had in him. He had declaimed himself into a violent heat, and was as hoarse as he was hot. By dint of roaring at the top of his voice under a flaring gaslight, clenching his fists, knitting his brows, setting his teeth, and pounding with his arms, he had taken so much out of himself by this time, that he was brought to a stop and called for a glass of water. As he stood there, trying to quench his fiery face with his drink of water, the comparison between the orator and the crowd of attentive faces turned towards him, was extremely to his disadvantage. Judging him by Nature's evidence, he was above the mass in very little but the stage on which he stood. In many great respects, he was essentially below them. He was not so honest, he was not so manly, he was not so good-humored; he substituted cunning for their simplicity, and passion for their safe solid sense. An ill-made high-shouldered man, with lowering brows, and his features crushed into an habitually sour expression, he contrasted most unfevorably, even in his mongrel dress, with the great body of his hearers in their working clothes. Strange as it always is to consider any assembly in centrated all his revived forces in a sneer of great lips than fro onny other man's, though I never cud❜n "But, oh my friends and brothers! Oh men and Englishmen, the down-trodden operatives of Coketown! What shall we say of that man-that working-man, that I should find it necessary so to libel the glorious name-who, being practically and well acquainted with the grievances and wrongs of you, the injured pith and marrow of this land, and having heard you, with a noble and majestic unanimity that will make Tyrants tremble, resolve for to subscribe to the funds of the United Aggregate Tribunal, and to abide by the injunctions issued by that body for your benefit, whatever they may be what, I ask you, will you say of that working man, since such I must acknowledge him to be, who, at such a time, deserts his post, and sells his flag; who, at such a time, turns a traitor and a craven and a make you the dastardly and humiliating avowal that recreant; who, at such a time, is not ashamed to he will hold himself aloof, and will not be one of those associated in the gallant stand for Freedom and for Right?" The assembly was divided at this point. There were some groans and hisses, but the general sense of honor was much too strong for the condemnation "Be sure you're right, Slack of a man unheard. the act of submissively resigning itself to the dreari-bridge!" "Put him up!" "Let's hear him!" Such things were said on many sides. Finally, one strong voice called out, "Is the man heer? If the man's heer, Slackbridge, let's hear the man himseln, 'stead o' yo." Which was received with a round of applause. ness of some complacent person, lord or commoner, whom three-fourths of it could, by no human means, raise out of the slough of inanity to their own intellectual level, it was particularly strange, and it was even particularly affecting, to see this crowd of earnest faces, whose honesty in the main no competent observer free from bias could doubt, so agitated by such a leader. Good! Hear, hear! Hurrah! The eagerness, both of attention and intention, exhibited in all the countenances, made them a most impressive sight. There was no carelessness, no languor, no idle curiosity; none of the many shades of indifference to be seen in all other assemblies, visible for one moment there. That every man felt his condition to be, somehow or other, worse than it might be; that every man considered it incumbent on him to join the rest, towards the making of it better; that every man felt his only hope to be in allying himself to the comrades by whom he was surrounded; and that in this belief, right or wrong (unhappily wrong then), the whole of that crowd were gravely, deeply, faithfully in earnest; must have been as plain to any one who chose to see what was there, as the bare beams of the roof, and the whitened brick walls. Nor could any such spectator fail to know in his own breast, that these men, through their very delusions, showed great qualities, susceptible of being turned to the happiest and best account; and that to pretend (on the strength of sweeping axioms, howsoever cut and dried) that they went astray wholly without cause, and of their own irrational wills, was to pretend that there could be smoke without fire, death without birth, harvest without seed, anything or everything produced from nothing. The orator having refreshed himself, wiped his corrugated forehead from left to right several times with his handkerchief folded into a pad, and con Slackbridge, the orator, looked about him with a withering smile; and, holding out his hand at arm's length (as the manner of all Slackbridge's is), to still the thundering sea, waited until there was a profound silence. Slackbridge shook his head as if he would shake it off, in his bitterness. "I'm th' one single Hand in Bounderby's mill, o' a' the men theer, as don't coom in wi' th' proposed reg'lations. I canna' coom in wi' 'em. My friends, I doubt their doin' you onny good. Licker they'll do yo hurt." Slackbridge laughed, folded his arms, and frowned sarcastically. "But 't an: sommuch for that as I stands out. If that were aw, I'd coom in wi' th' rest. But I ha' my reasons mine, yo see-for bein hindered; not on'y now, but awlus-awlus-life long !" Slackbridge, jumped up and stood beside him, gnashing and tearing. "Oh my friends, what but what warning but this did I give you? And how this did I tell you? Oh my fellow-countrymen, shows this recreant conduct in a man on whom unequal laws are known to have fallen heavy? Oh you Englishmen, I ask you how does this subornation show in one of yourselves, who is thus consenting to his own undoing and to yours, and to your children's and your children's children's ?" There was some applause, and some crying of Shame upon the man; but the greater part of the audience were quiet. They looked at Stephen's worn face, rendered more pathetic by the homely emotions it evinced; and in the kindness of their nature, they were more sorry than indignant. "Tis this Delegate's trade for t' speak," said Stephen, an he's paid for't, an he knows his work. Let him keep to't Let him give no heed to what I ha had'n to bear. That's not for him. That's not for nobbody but me." There was a propriety, not to say a dignity in "Oh my friends and fellow men!" said Slack- these words, that made the hearers yet more quiet bridge, then shaking his head with violent scorn, and attentive. The same strong voice called out, "I do not wonder that you, the prostrate sons of "Slackbridge, let the man be heern, and howd labor, are incredulous of the existence of such a thee tongue!" Then the place was wonderfully But he who sold his birthright for a mess of still. pottage existed, and Judas Iscariot existed, and Castelreagh existed, and this man exists!" man. Here, a brief press and confusion near the stage, ended in the man himself standing at the orator's side before the concourse. He was pale and a little moved in the face-his lips especially showed it; but he stood quiet, with his left hand at his chin, waiting to be heard. There was a chairman to regulate the proceedings, and this functionary now took the case into his own hands. "My friends," said he, "by virtue o' my office as your president, I askes o' our friend Slackbridge, who may be a little over hetter in this business, to take his seat, whiles this man Stephen Blackpool is heern. You all know this man Stephen Blackpool. You know him awlung o' his misfort'ns, and his good name." With that the chairman shook him frankly by the hand, and sat down again. Slackbridge likewise left to right, and never the reverse way. sat down, wiping his hot forehead-always from "My friends," Stephen began, in the midst of a dead calm; “I ha' hed what's been spok'n o' me, and 'tis lickly that I shan't mend it. But I'd liefer you'd heern the truth concerning myseln, fro my "My brothers," said Stephen, whose low voice was distinctly heard, "and my fellow-workmenfor that yo are to me, though not, as I knows on, to this delegate heer-I ha but a word to san, and I could sen nommore if I was to speak till Strike o' day. I know weel, aw what's afore me. I know weel that yo are aw resolved to ha nommore ado wi' a man who is not wi' yo in this matther. I know weel that if I was a lyin parisht i' th' road, yo'd feel it right to pass me by as a forrenner and stranger. What I ha getn, I mun make the best on.' Stephen Blackpool," said the chairman, rising; "think on't agen. Think on't once agen, lad, afore thour't shunned by aw owd friends." There was an universal murmur to the same effect, though no man articulated a word. Every eye was fixed on Stephen's face. To repent of his determination, would be to take a load from all their minds. He looked around him, and knew that it was so. Not a grain of anger with them was in his heart; he knew them, far below their surface weaknesses and misconceptions, as no one but their fellow laborer could. "I ha thowt on't, above a bit, sir. I simply canna coom in. He made a sort of reverence to them by holding up his arms, and stood for the moment in that attitude: not speaking until they slowly dropped at his sides. tleman from London, were present, to whom Stephen made his obeisance, closing the door, and standing near it, with his hat in his hand. "This is the man I was talking to you about, Harthouse," said Mr. Bounderby. I mun go th' way as lays afore me. I crowd. The stranger in the land who looks into ten mun tak my leave o' aw heer." thousand faces for some answering look and never finds it, is in cheering society as compared with him who passes ten averted faces daily, that were once the countenances of friends. Such experience was to be Stephen's now, in every waking moment of his The gentleman he addressed, who was talking to life; at his work, on his way to it and from it, at his Mrs. Bounderby on the sofa, got up, saying in an door, at his window, everywhere. By general con-indolent way, "Oh really?" and dawdled to the sent, they even avoided that side of the street on hearthrug where Mr. Bounderby stood. which he habitually walked; and left it, of all the "Now," said Bounderby, "speak up !” working men, to him only. 66 After the four days he had passed, this address fell rudely and discordantly on Stephen's ear. Besides being a rough handling of his wounded mind, it seemed to assume that he really was the self-interested deserter he had been called. "What were it, sir," said Stephen, "as yo were pleased to want wi' me?" "Monny's the pleasant word as soom heer has spok'n wi' me; monny's the face I see heer, as I first seen when I were young and lighter heart'n than now. I ha never had no fratch afore, sin ever I was born, wi' any o' my like; Gonnows I ha' none now that's o' my makin'. Yo'll ca' me traitor and He had been for many years, a quiet silent man, that-yo I mean t' say," addressing Slackbridge, associating but little with other men, and used to "but 'tis easier to ca' than mak' out. So let be." companionship with his own thoughts. He had He had moved away a pace or two to come down | never known before, the strength of the want in his from the platform, when he remembered something | heart for the frequent recognition of a nod, a look, a he had not said, and returned again. word; or the immense amount of relief that had Haply," he said, turning his furrowed face been poured into it by drops, through such small "Why, I have told you," returned Bounderby. slowly about, that he might as it were individually means. It was even harder than he could have be-Speak up like a man, since you are a man, and tell address the whole audience, those both near and lieved possible, to separate in his own conscience his us about yourself and this Combination." distant; "haply, when this question has been tak'n | abandonment by all his fellows, from a baseless sense "Wi' yor pardon, sir," said Stephen Blackpool, up and discoosed, there'll be a threat to turn out if "I ha' nowt to sen about it." I'm let to work among yo. I hope I shall die ere ever such a time cooms, and I shall work solitary among yo unless it cooms-truly, I mun do 't, my friends; not to brave yo, but to live. I ha nobbut work to live by; and wheerever can I go; I who ha worked sin I was no heighth at aw, in Coketown heer? I mak' no complaints o' bein turned to the wa', o' being outcasten and overlooken fro this time forrard, but I hope I shall be let to work. If there is any right for me at aw, my friends, I think 'tis that." of shame and disgrace. The first four days of his endurance were days so long and heavy, that he began to be appalled by the prospect before him. Not only did he see no Rachael all the time, but he avoided every chance of seeing her; for, although he knew that the prohibition did not yet formally extend to the women working in the factories, he found that some of them with whom he was acquainted were changed to him, and he feared to try others, and dreaded that Rachael might be even singled out from the rest if she were seen in his company So, he had been quite alone Not a word was spoken. Not a sound was audi- during the four days, and had spoken to no one, when, ble in the building, but the slight rustle of men mov- as he was leaving his work at night, a young man of ing a little apart, all along the centre of the room, to a very light complexion accosted him in the street. open a means of passing out, to the man with whom Your name's Blackpool, an't it?" said the young they had all bound themselves to renounce compa- man. nionship. Looking at no one, and going his way Stephen colored to find himself with his hat in his with a lowly steadiness upon him that asserted noth-hand, in his gratitude for being spoken to, or in the ing and sought nothing, Old Stephen, with all his suddenness of it, or both. He made a feint of adtroubles on his head, left the scene. Then Slackbridge, who had kept his oratorical arm extended during the going out, as if he were repressing with infinite solicitude and by a wonderful moral power the vehement passions of the multitude, applied himself to raising their spirits. Had not the Roman Brutus, oh my British countrymen, condemned his son to death; and had not the Spartan mothers, oh my soon to be victorious friends, driven their flying children on the points of their enemies' swords? Then was it not the sacred duty of the men of Coketown, with forefathers before them, an admiring world in company with them, and a posterity to come after them, to hurl out traitors from the tents they had pitched in a sacred and a Godlike cause? The winds of Heaven answered Yes; and bore Yes, east, west, north and south And consequently three cheers for the United Aggregate Tribunal! Slackbridge acted as fugleman, and gave the time. 66 Mr. Bounderby, who was always more or less like a Wind, finding something in his way here, began to blow at it directly. "Now, look here, Harthouse," said he, "here's a specimen of 'em. When this man was here once before, I warned this man against the mischievous strangers who are always about-and who ought to be hanged wherever they are found—and I told this man that he was going in the wrong direction. Now, would you believe it, that although they have put this mark upon him, he is such a slave to them still, that he's afraid to open his lips about them?" "I sed as I had nowt to sen, sir; not as I was fearfo' o' openin' my lips." "You said. Ah! I know what you said; more than that, I know what you mean, you seo. Not always the same thing, by the Lord Harry! Quite different things. You had better tell us at once, that that fellow Slackbridge is not in the town, stirring justing the lining and said, "Yes." up the people to mutiny; and that he is not a regu"You are the Hand they have sent to Coventry, Ilar qualified leader of the people; that is, a most mean?" said Bitzer, the very light young man in confounded scoundrel. You had better tell us so at question. once; you can't deceive me. You want to tell us Why don't you?" Stephen answered "Yes," again. "I supposed so, from their all appearing to keep away from you. Mr. Bounderby wants to speak to you. You know his house, don't you?" Stephen said "Yes," again. "Then go straight up there, will you?" said Bitzer. "You're expected, and have only to tell the servant it's you. I belong to the Bank; so, if you go straight up without me (I was sent to fetch you), you'll save me a walk." Stephen, whose way had been in the contrary direction, turned about and betook himself, as in duty bound, to the red brick castle of the giant Bounderby. CHAPTER XXI. The multitude of doubtful faces (a little conscience 66 WELL, Stephen," said Bounderby, in his Thus easily did Stephen Blackpool fall into the loneliest of lives, the life of solitude among a familiar So. It was into the drawing-room that he was thus "I'd leefer not coom to't, sir; but sin you put th' bidden. A tea-table was set out; and Mr. Bounder-question-an not want'n t' be ill-manner'n-I'll anby's young wife, and her brother, and a great gen-swer. I ha passed a promess." |