BOOK THE SECOND - REAPING
5. Chapter V - Men and Masters (continued)
'In short,' said Mr. Bounderby, 'it's because they are so full of
virtues that they have turned you adrift. Go through with it while
you are about it. Out with it.'
'How 'tis, ma'am,' resumed Stephen, appearing still to find his
natural refuge in Louisa's face, 'that what is best in us fok,
seems to turn us most to trouble an' misfort'n an' mistake, I
dunno. But 'tis so. I know 'tis, as I know the heavens is over me
ahint the smoke. We're patient too, an' wants in general to do
right. An' I canna think the fawt is aw wi' us.'
'Now, my friend,' said Mr. Bounderby, whom he could not have
exasperated more, quite unconscious of it though he was, than by
seeming to appeal to any one else, 'if you will favour me with your
attention for half a minute, I should like to have a word or two
with you. You said just now, that you had nothing to tell us about
this business. You are quite sure of that before we go any
further.'
'Sir, I am sure on 't.'
'Here's a gentleman from London present,' Mr. Bounderby made a
backhanded point at Mr. James Harthouse with his thumb, 'a
Parliament gentleman. I should like him to hear a short bit of
dialogue between you and me, instead of taking the substance of it
- for I know precious well, beforehand, what it will be; nobody
knows better than I do, take notice! - instead of receiving it on
trust from my mouth.'
Stephen bent his head to the gentleman from London, and showed a
rather more troubled mind than usual. He turned his eyes
involuntarily to his former refuge, but at a look from that quarter
(expressive though instantaneous) he settled them on Mr.
Bounderby's face.
'Now, what do you complain of?' asked Mr. Bounderby.
'I ha' not coom here, sir,' Stephen reminded him, 'to complain. I
coom for that I were sent for.'
'What,' repeated Mr. Bounderby, folding his arms, 'do you people,
in a general way, complain of?'
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