hip out of that thorn-guarded plant. Hello, Crimsworth! where are
your thoughts tending? You leave the recollection of Hunsden as a bee
would a rock, as a bird a desert; and your aspirations spread eager
wings towards a land of visions where, now in advancing daylight--in
X---- daylight--you dare to dream of congeniality, repose, union. Those
three you will never meet in this world; they are angels. The souls of
just men made perfect may encounter them in heaven, but your soul will
never be made perfect. Eight o'clock strikes! your hands are thawed, get
to work!"

"Work? why should I work?" said I sullenly: "I cannot please though I
toil like a slave." "Work, work!" reiterated the inward voice. "I may
work, it will do no good," I growled; but nevertheless I drew out a
packet of letters and commenced my task--task thankless and bitter as
that of the Israelite crawling over the sun-baked fields of Egypt in
search of straw and stubble wherewith to accomplish his tale of bricks.

About ten o'clock I heard Mr. Crimsworth's gig turn into the yard, and
in a minute or two he entered the counting-house. It was his custom to
glance his eye at Steighton and myself, to hang up his mackintosh, stand
a minute with his back to the fire, and then walk out. Today he did
not deviate from his usual habits; the only difference was that when
he looked at me, his brow, instead of being merely hard, was surly; his
eye, instead of being cold, was fierce. He studied me a minute or two
longer than usual, but went out in silence.

Twelve o'clock arrived; the bell rang for a suspension of labour; the
workpeople went off to their dinners; Steighton, too, departed, desiring
me to lock the counting-house door, and take the key with me. I
was tying up a bundle of papers, and putting them in their place,
preparatory to closing my desk, when Crimsworth reappeared at the door,
and entering closed it behind him.

"You'll stay here a minute," said he, in a deep, brutal voice, while his
nostrils distended and his eye shot a spark of sinister fire.

Alone with Edward I remembered our relationship, and remembering that
forgot the difference of position; I put away deference and careful
forms of speech; I answered with simple brevity.

"It is time to go home," I said, turning the key in my desk.

"You'll stay here!" he reiterated. "And take your hand off that key!
leave it in the lock!"

"Why?" asked I. "What cause is there for changing my usual plans?