y complained of anything,
that they always expected to be set up in a coach and six, and to be fed
on turtle soup and venison, with a gold spoon.

As time went on, and young Thomas Gradgrind became old enough to go into
Bounderby's Bank, Bounderby decided that Louisa was old enough to be
married.

Mr. Gradgrind, now member of parliament for Coketown, mentioned the
matter to his daughter.

"Louisa, my dear, you are the subject of a proposal of marriage that has
been made to me."

He waited, as if he would have been glad that she said something.
Strange to relate Mr. Gradgrind was not so collected at this moment as
his daughter was.

"I have undertaken to let you know that--in short, that Mr. Bounderby
has long hoped that the time might arrive when he should offer you his
hand in marriage. That time has now come, and Mr. Bounderby has made his
proposal to me, and has entreated me to make it known to you."

"Father," said Louisa, "do you think I love Mr. Bounderby?"

Mr. Gradgrind was extremely discomforted by this unexpected question.
"Well, my child," he returned, "I--really--cannot take upon myself to
say."

"Father," pursued Louisa, in exactly the same voice as before, "do you
ask me to love Mr. Bounderby?"

"My dear Louisa, no. No, I ask nothing."

"Father, does Mr. Bounderby ask me to love him?"

"Really, my dear, it is difficult to answer your question. Because the
reply depends so materially, Louisa, on the sense in which we use the
expression. Mr. Bounderby does not pretend to anything sentimental. Now,
I should advise you to consider this question simply as one of fact.
Now, what are the facts of this case? You are, we will say in round
numbers, twenty years of age. Mr. Bounderby is, we will say in round
numbers, fifty. There is some disparity in your respective years, but in
your means and position there is none; on the contrary, there is a great
suitability. Confining yourself rigidly to fact, the questions of fact
are: 'Does Mr. Bounderby ask me to marry him?' 'Yes, he does.' And,
'Shall I marry him?'"

"Shall I marry him?" repeated Louisa, with great deliberation.

There was silence between the two before Louisa spoke again. She thought
of the shortness of life, of how her brother Tom had said it would be a
good thing for him if she made up her mind to do--she knew what.

"While it lasts," she said aloud, "I would like to do the little I can,
and the little I am fit for. What does it matter?