FullReads

“Be sure you know your own mind, Jupe,” Mr. Gradgrind cautioned her; “I say no more. Be sure you know your own mind!”

“When father comes back,” cried the girl, bursting into tears again after a minute’s silence, “how will he ever find me if I go away!”

“You may be quite at ease,” said Mr. Gradgrind calmly; he worked out the whole matter like a sum; “you may be quite at ease, Jupe, on that score. In such a case, your father, I apprehend, must find out Mr. Sleary, who would then let him know where you went. I should have no power of keeping you against his wish.”

There was another silence; and then Sissy exclaimed sobbing, “Oh, give me my clothes, give me my clothes, and let me go away before I break my heart!”

The women sadly bestirred themselves to get the clothes together, and to pack them. They then brought Sissy’s bonnet to her and put it on. Then they pressed about her, kissing and embracing her: and brought the children to take leave of her; and were a tender-hearted, simple, foolish, set of women altogether. Then she had to take her farewell of the male part of the company, and last of all of Mr. Sleary.

“Farewell, Thethilia!” he said, “my latht wordth to you ith thith: Thtick to the termth of your engagement, be obedient to the Thquire, and forget uth. But if, when you’re grown up and married and well off, you come upon any horthe-riding ever, don’t be hard upon it, don’t be croth with it, give it a Bethpeak if you can, and think you might do worth. People must be amuthed, Thquire, thomehow,” continued Sleary, “they can’t be alwayth a working, nor yet they can’t be alwayth a learning. Make the betht of uth; not the wurtht. I’ve got my living out of horthe-riding all my life, I know, but I conthider that I lay down the philothophy of the thubject when I thay to you, Thquire, make the betht of uth; not the wurtht!”

The Sleary philosophy was propounded as they went downstairs; and the fixed eye of Philosophy–and its rolling eye, too,–soon lost the three figures, and the basket in the darkness of the street.

To Mr. Bounderby’s house the weeping Sissy was conducted, and remained there while Mr. Gradgrind returned to Stone Lodge to mature his plans for the clown’s daughter. He soon came back to Mr. Bounderby’s, bringing his daughter Louisa with him, and Sissy Jupe stood before them, with downcast eyes, while Mr. Gradgrind thus addressed her:

“Jupe, I have made up my mind to take you into my house; and when you are not at school, to employ you about Mrs. Gradgrind, who is rather an invalid. I have explained to Miss Louisa–this is Miss Louisa–the miserable but natural end of your late career; and you are to understand that the subject is not to be referred to any more. From this time you begin your history. You are at present ignorant, I know.”

“Yes, sir, very,” she answered curtseying.

“I shall have the satisfaction of causing you to be strictly educated; and you will be a living proof of the advantages of the training you will receive. You will be reclaimed and formed. You have been in the habit now of reading to your father, and those people I found you among, I dare say?” said Mr. Gradgrind.

“Only to father and to Merrylegs, sir. At least I mean to father, when Merrylegs was always there.”

“Never mind Merrylegs, Jupe,” said Mr. Gradgrind with a frown. “I don’t ask about him. I understand you have been in the habit of reading to your father, and what did you read to him, Jupe?”

“About the fairies, sir, and the Dwarf, and the Hunchback, and the Genies,” she sobbed out: “And about–“

“Hush!” exclaimed Mr. Gradgrind, “that is enough. Never breathe a word of such destructive nonsense any more.”