X---- was all stir and bustle when we entered it; we left the
clean streets where there were dwelling-houses and shops,
churches, and public buildings; we left all these, and turned
down to a region of mills and warehouses; thence we passed
through two massive gates into a great paved yard, and we were in
Bigben Close, and the mill was before us, vomiting soot from its
long chimney, and quivering through its thick brick walls with
the commotion of its iron bowels. Workpeople were passing to and
fro; a waggon was being laden with pieces. Mr. Crimsworth looked
from side to side, and seemed at one glance to comprehend all
that was going on; he alighted, and leaving his horse and gig to
the care of a man who hastened to take the reins from his hand,
he bid me follow him to the counting-house. We entered it; a
very different place from the parlours of Crimsworth Hall--a
place for business, with a bare, planked floor, a safe, two high
desks and stools, and some chairs. A person was seated at one of
the desks, who took off his square cap when Mr. Crimsworth
entered, and in an instant was again absorbed in his occupation
of writing or calculating--I know not which.

Mr, Crimsworth, having removed his mackintosh, sat down by the
fire. I remained standing near the hearth; he said presently--

"Steighton, you may leave the room; I have some business to
transact with this gentleman. Come back when you hear the bell."

The individual at the desk rose and departed, closing the door as
he went out. Mr. Crimsworth stirred the fire, then folded his
arms, and sat a moment thinking, his lips compressed, his brow
knit. I had nothing to do but to watch him--how well his