"Mist clogs the sunshine,Smoky dwarf housesHave we round on every side."
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
The next afternoon, about twenty miles from Milton-Northern, theyentered on the little branch railway that led to Heston. Heston itself wasone long straggling street, running parallel to the seashore. It had acharacter of its own, as different from the little bathing-places in thesouth of England as they again from those of the continent. To use aScotch word, every thing looked more "purposelike." The country cartshad more iron, and less wood and leather about the horse-gear; thepeople in the streets, although on pleasure bent, had yet a busy mind.
The colours looked grayer--more enduring, not so gay and pretty. Therewere no smock-frocks, even among the country folk; they retardedmotion, and were apt to catch on machinery, and so the habit of wearingthem had died out. In such towns in the south of England, Margaret hadseen the shopmen, when not employed in their business, lounging alittle at their doors, enjoying the fresh air, and the look up and down thestreet. Here, if they had any leisure from customers, they madethemselves business in the shop--even, Margaret fancied, to theunnecessary unrolling and rerolling of ribbons. All these differencesstruck upon her mind, as she and her mother went out next morning tolook for lodgings.
Their two nights at hotels had cost more than Mr. Hale had anticipated,and they were glad to take the first clean, cheerful for the first time formany days, did Margaret feel at rest. There rooms they met with thatwere at liberty to receive them. There, was a dreaminess in the rest, too,which made it still more perfect and luxurious to repose in. The distantsea, lapping the sandy shore with measured sound; the nearer cries ofthe donkey-boys; the unusual scenes moving before her like pictures,which she cared not in her laziness to have fully explained before theypassed away; the stroll down to the beach to breathe the sea-air, soft andwarm on that sandy shore even to the end of November; the great longmisty sea-line touching the tender-coloured sky; the white sail of adistant boat turning silver in some pale sunbeam:--it seemed as if shecould dream her life away in such luxury of pensiveness, in which shemade her present all in all, from not daring to think of the past, orwishing to contemplate the future.
But the future must be met, however stern and iron it be. One evening itwas arranged that Margaret and her father should go the next day toMilton-Northern, and look out for a house. Mr. Hale had receivedseveral letters from Mr. Bell, and one or two from Mr. Thornton, and hewas anxious to ascertain at once a good many particulars respecting hisposition and chances of success there, which he could only do by aninterview with the latter gentleman. Margaret knew that they ought tobe removing; but she had a repugnance to the idea of a manufacturingtown, and believed that her mother was receiving benefit from Hestonair, so she would willingly have deferred the expedition to Milton.
For several miles before they reached Milton, they saw a deep leadcoloured cloud hanging over the horizon in the direction in which it lay.
It was all the darker from contrast with the pale gray-blue of the wintrysky; for in Heston there had been the earliest signs of frost. Nearer tothe town, the air had a faint taste and smell of smoke; perhaps, after all,more a loss of the fragrance of grass and herbage than any positive tasteor smell. Quick they were whirled over long, straight, hopeless streetsof regularly-built houses, all small and of brick. Here and there a greatoblong many-windowed factory stood up, like a hen among herchickens, puffing out black "unparliamentary" smoke, and sufficientlyaccounting for the cloud which Margaret had taken to foretell rain. Asthey drove through the larger and wider streets, from the station to thehotel, they had to stop constantly; great loaded lurries blocked up thenot over-wide thoroughfares. Margaret had now and then been into thecity in her drives with her aunt. But there the heavy lumbering vehiclesseemed various in their purposes and intent; here every van, everywaggon and truck, bore cotton, either in the raw shape in bags, or thewoven shape in bales of calico. People thronged the footpaths, most ofthem well-dressed as regarded the material, but with a slovenlylooseness which struck Margaret as different from the shabby,threadbare smartness of a similar class in London.
"New Street," said Mr. Hale. "This, I believe, is the principal street inMilton. Bell has often spoken to me about it. It was the opening of thisstreet from a lane into a great thoroughfare, thirty years ago, which hascaused his property to rise so much in value. Mr. Thornton"s mill mustbe somewhere not very far off, for he is Mr. Bell"s tenant. But I fancy hedates from his warehouse."
"Where is our hotel, papa?"
"Close to the end of this street, I believe. Shall we have lunch before orafter we have looked at the houses we marked in the Milton Times?"
"Oh, let us get our work done first."
"Very well. Then I will only see if there is any note or letter for me fromMr. Thornton, who said he would let me know anything he might hearabout these houses, and then we will set off. We will keep the cab; itwill be safer than losing ourselves, and being too late for the train thisafternoon."
There were no letters awaiting him. They set out on their house-hunting. Thirty pounds a-year was all they could afford to give, but inHampshire they could have met with a roomy house and pleasantgarden for the money. Here, even the necessary accommodation of twositting-rooms and four bed-rooms seemed unattainable. They wentthrough their list, rejecting each as they visited it. Then they looked ateach other in dismay.
"We must go back to the second, I think. That one,--in Crampton, don"tthey call the suburb? There were three sitting-rooms; don"t youremember how we laughed at the number compared with the three bedrooms?