downstairs again, and entered the board-room in the manner of a Roman matron going outside the city walls to treat with an invading general.
The visitor having strolled to the window, and being then engaged in looking carelessly out, was as unmoved by this impressive entry as man could possibly be. He stood whistling to himself with all imaginable coolness, with his hat still on, and a certain air of exhaustion upon him, in part arising from excessive summer, and in part from excessive gentility. For it was to be seen with half an eye that he was a thorough gentleman, made to the model of the time; weary of everything, and putting no more faith in anything than Lucifer.
‘I believe, sir,’ quoth Mrs Sparsit, ‘you wished to see me.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, turning and removing his hat; ‘pray excuse me.’
‘Humph!’ thought Mrs Sparsit, as she made a stately bend. ‘Five-and-thirty, good-looking, good figure, good teeth, good voice, good breeding, well-dressed, dark hair, bold eyes.’ All which Mrs Sparsit observed in her womanly way — like the Sultan who put his head in the pail of water — merely in dipping down and coming up again.
‘Please to be seated, sir,’ said Mrs Sparsit.
‘Thank you. Allow me.’ He placed a chair for her, but remained himself carelessly lounging against the table. ‘I left my servant at the railway looking after the luggage — very heavy train and vast quantity of it in the van — and strolled on, looking about me. Exceedingly odd place. Will you allow me to ask you if it’s always as black as this?’
‘In general much blacker,’ returned Mrs Sparsit, in her uncompromising way.
‘Is it possible! Excuse me: you are not a native, I think?’
‘No, sir,’ returned Mrs Sparsit. ‘It was once my good or ill fortune, as it may be — before I became a widow — to move in a very different sphere. My husband was a Powler.’
‘Beg your pardon, really!’ said the stranger. ‘Was — ?’
Mrs Sparsit repeated, ‘A Powler.’
‘Powler Family,’ said the stranger, after reflecting a few moments. Mrs Sparsit signified assent. The stranger seemed a little more fatigued than before.
‘You must be very much bored here?’ was the inference he drew from the communication.
‘I am the servant of circumstances, sir,’ said Mrs Sparsit, ‘and I have long adapted myself to the governing power of my life.’
‘Very philosophical,’ returned the stranger, ‘and very exemplary and laudable, and — ’ It seemed to be scarcely worth his while to finish the sentence, so he played with his watch-chain wearily.
‘May I be permitted to ask, sir,’ said Mrs Sparsit, ‘to what I am indebted for the favour of — ’
‘Assuredly,’ said the stranger. ‘Much obliged to you for reminding me. I am the bearer of a letter of introduction to Mr Bounderby the banker. Walking through this extraordinary black town, while they were getting dinner ready at the hotel, I asked a fellow whom I met; one of the working people; who appeared to have been taking a shower-bath of something fluffy, which I assume to be the raw material — ’
Mrs Sparsit inclined her head.