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hid his own （if he took it with him） in a corner of the churchyard in
the park； near the mouldy porch。 He was born in the market…
town； and so was his young widow。 Her progress in the family
began in the time of the last Sir Leicester； and originated in the
still…room。
The present representative of the Dedlocks is an excellent
master。 He supposes all his dependants to be utterly bereft of
individual characters； intentions； or opinions； and is persuaded
that he was born to supersede the necessity of their having any。 If
he were to make a discovery to the contrary； he would be simply
stunned—would never recover himself； most likely； except to gasp
and die。 But he is an excellent master still； holding it a part of his
state to be so。 He has a great liking for Mrs Rouncewell； he says
she is a most respectable； creditable woman。 He always shakes
hands with her； when he comes down to Chesney Wold； and when
he goes away； and if he were very ill； or if he were knocked down
by accident； or run over； or placed in any situation expressive of a
Dedlock at a disadvantage； he would say if he could speak； “Leave
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me and send Mrs Rouncewell here！” feeling his dignity； at such a
pass； safer with her than with anybody else。
Mrs Rouncewell has known trouble。 She has had two sons； of
whom the younger ran wild； and went for a soldier； and never
came back。 Even to this hour； Mrs Rouncewell’s calm hands lose
their composure when she speaks of him； and unfolding
themselves from her stomacher； hover about her in an agitated
manner； as she says； what a likely lad； what a fine lad； what a gay；
good…humoured； clever lad he was！ Her second son would have
been provided for at Chesney Wold； and would have been made
steward in due season； but he took； when he was a schoolboy； to
constructing steam…engines out of saucepans； and setting birds to
draw their own water； with the least possible amount of labour； so
assisting them with artful contrivance of hydraulic pressure； that a
thirsty canary had only； in a literal sense； to put his shoulder to the
wheel and the job was done。 This propensity gave Mrs Rouncewell
great uneasiness。 She felt it； with a mother’s anguish； to be a move
in the Wat Tyler direction： well knowing that Sir Leicester had
that general impression of an aptitude for any art to which smoke
and a tall chimney might be considered essential。 But the doomed
young rebel （otherwise a mild youth； and very persevering）；
showing no sign of grace as he got older； but； on the contrary；
constructing a model of a power…loom； she was fain； with many
tears； to mention his backslidings to the baronet。 “Mrs
Rouncewell；” said Sir Leicester； “I can never consent to argue； as
you know； with any one on any subject。 You had better get rid of
your boy； you had better get him into some Works。 The iron
country farther north is； I suppose； the congenial direction for a
boy with these tendencies。” Farther north he went； and farther
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north he grew up； and if Sir Leicester Dedlock ever saw him；
when he came to Chesney Wold to visit his mother； or ever
thought of him afterwards； it is certain that he only regarded him
as one of a body of some odd thousand conspirators； swarthy and
grim； who were in the habit of turning out by torchlight； two or
three nights in the week； for unlawful purposes。
Nevertheless Mrs Rouncewell’s son has； in the course of nature
and art； grown up； and established himself； and married； and
called unto him Mrs Rouncewell’s grandson； who； being out of his
apprenticeship； and home from a journey in far countries； whither
he was sent to enlarge his knowledge and complete his
preparations for the venture of this life； stands leaning against the
chimney…piece this very day； in Mrs Rouncewell’s room at
Chesney Wold。
“And； again and again； I am glad to see you； Watt！ And； once
again； I am glad to see you； Watt！” says Mrs Rouncewell。 “You are
a fine young fellow。 You are like your poor uncle George。 Ah！” Mrs
Rouncewell’s hands unquiet； as usual； on this reference。
“They say I am like my father； grandmother。”
“Like him； also； my dear；—but most like your poor uncle
George！ And your dear father。” Mrs Rouncewell folds her hands
again。 “He is well？”
“Thriving； grandmother； in every way。”
“I am thankful！” Mrs Rouncewell is fond of her son； but has a
plaintive feeling towards him—much as if he were a very
honourable soldier； who had gone over to the enemy。
“He is quite happy？” says she。
“Quite。”
“I am thankful！ So； he has brought you up to follow in his ways；
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and has sent you into foreign countries and the like？ Well； he
knows best。 There may be a world beyond Chesney Wold that I
don’t understand。 Though I am not young； either。 And I have seen
a quantity of good company too！”
“Grandmother；” says the young man； changing the subject；
“what a very pretty girl that was； I found with you just now。 You
called her Rosa？”
“Yes； child。 She is daughter of a widow in the village。 Maids are
so hard to teach； now…a…days； that I have put her about me young。
She’s an apt scholar； and will do well。 She shows the house
already； very pretty。 She lives with me； at my table here。”
“I hope I have not driven her away？”
“She supposes we have family affairs to speak about； I dare say。
She is very modest。 It is a fine quality in a young woman。 And
scarcer；” says Mrs Rouncewell； expanding her stomacher to its
utmost limits； “than it formerly was！”
The young man inclines his head； in acknowledgment of the
precepts of experience。 Mrs Rouncewell listens。
“Wheels！” says she。 They have long been audible to the younger
ears of her companion。 “What wheels on such a day as this； for
gracious sake？”
After a short interval a tap at the door。 “Come in！” A dark…eyed；
dark…haired； shy village beauty comes in—so fresh in her rosy and
yet delicate bloom； that the drops of rain； which have beaten on
her hair； look like the dew upon a flower fresh gathered。
“What company is this； Rosa？” says Mrs Rouncewell。
“It’s two young men in a gig； ma’am； who want to see the
house—yes； and if you please； I told them so！” in quick reply to a
gesture of dissent from the housekeeper。 “I went to the hall door；
Charles Dickens