THERE is a climax to everything, to every state of feeling aswell as to every position in life. I turned this truism over inmy mind as, in the frosty dawn of a January morning, I hurrieddown the steep and now icy street which descended from Mrs.King's to the Close. The factory workpeople had preceded me bynearly an hour, and the mill was all lighted up and in fulloperation when I reached it. I repaired to my post in thecounting-house as usual; the fire there, but just lit, as yetonly smoked; Steighton had not yet arrived. I shut the door andsat down at the desk; my hands, recently washed in half-frozenwater, were still numb; I could not write till they had regainedvitality, so I went on thinking, and still the theme of mythoughts was the "climax." Self-dissatisfaction troubledexceedingly the current of my meditations.

"Come, William Crimsworth," said my conscience, or whatever it isthat within ourselves takes ourselves to task--"come, get a clearnotion of what you would have, or what you would not have. Youtalk of a climax; pray has your endurance reached its climax? Itis not four months old. What a fine resolute fellow you imaginedyourself to be when you told Tynedale you would tread in yourfather's steps, and a pretty treading you are likely to make ofit! How well you like X----! Just at this moment how redolentof pleasant associations are its streets, its shops, itswarehouses, its factories! How the prospect of this day cheersyou! Letter-copying till noon, solitary dinner at your lodgings,letter-copying till evening, solitude; for you neither findpleasure in Brown's, nor Smith's, nor Nicholl's, nor Eccle'scompany; and as to Hunsden, you fancied there was pleasure to bederived from his society--he! he! how did you like the taste youhad of him last night? was it sweet? Yet he is a talented, anoriginal-minded man, and even he does not like you; yourself-respect defies you to like him; he has always seen you todisadvantage; he always will see you to disadvantage; yourpositions are unequal, and were they on the same level your mindscould not; assimilate; never hope, then, to gather the honey offriendship out of that thorn-guarded plant. Hello, Crimsworth!where are your thoughts tending? You leave the recollection ofHunsden as a bee would a rock, as a bird a desert; and youraspirations spread eager wings towards a land of visions where,now in advancing daylight--in X---- daylight--you dare to dreamof congeniality, repose, union. Those three you will never meetin this world; they are angels. The souls of just men madeperfect may encounter them in heaven, but your soul will never bemade perfect. Eight o'clock strikes! your hands are thawed, getto work!"

"Work? why should I work?" said I sullenly: "I cannot pleasethough I toil like a slave." "Work, work!" reiterated the inwardvoice. "I may work, it will do no good," I growled; butnevertheless I drew out a packet of letters and commenced mytask--task thankless and bitter as that of the Israelite crawlingover the sun-baked fields of Egypt in search of straw and stubblewherewith to accomplish his tale of bricks.

About ten o'clock I heard Mr. Crimsworth's gig turn into theyard, and in a minute or two he entered the counting-house. Itwas his custom to glance his eye at Steighton and myself, to hangup his mackintosh, stand a minute with his back to the fire, andthen 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 ofbeing cold, was fierce. He studied me a minute or two longerthan 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 takethe key with me. I was tying up a bundle of papers, and puttingthem in their place, preparatory to closing my desk, whenCrimsworth reappeared at the door, and entering closed it behindhim.

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

Alone with Edward I remembered our relationship, and rememberingthat forgot the difference of position; I put away deference andcareful 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 thatkey! leave it in the lock!"

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

"Do as I order," was the answer, "and no questions! You are myservant, obey me! What have you been about--?" He was going onin the same breath, when an abrupt pause announced that rage hadfor the moment got the better of articulation.

"You may look, if you wish to know," I replied. "There is theopen desk, there are the papers."

"Confound your insolence! What have you been about?"

"Your work, and have done it well."

"Hypocrite and twaddler! Smooth-faced, snivelling greasehorn!"(this last term is, I believe, purely ---shire, and alludes tothe horn of black, rancid whale-oil, usually to be seen suspendedto cart-wheels, and employed for greasing the same.)

"Come, Edward Crimsworth, enough of this. It is time you and Iwound up accounts. I have now given your service three months'trial, and I find it the most nauseous slavery under the sun.Seek another clerk. I stay no longer."

"What I do you dare to give me notice? Stop at least for yourwages." He took down the heavy gig whip hanging beside hismackintosh.

I permitted myself to laugh with a degree of scorn I took nopains to temper or hide. His fury boiled up, and when he hadsworn half-a-dozen vulgar, impious oaths, without, however,venturing to lift the whip, he continued :-

"I've found you out and know you thoroughly, you mean, whininglickspittle! What have you been saying all over X---- about me?answer me that!"

"You? I have neither inclination nor temptation to talk aboutyou."

"You lie! It is your practice to talk about me; it is yourconstant habit to make public complaint of the treatment youreceive at my hands. You have gone and told it far and near thatI give you low wages and knock you about like a dog. I wish youwere a dog! I'd set-to this minute, and never stir from the spottill I'd cut every strip of flesh from your bones with this whip.

He flourished his tool. The end of the lash just touched myforehead. A warm excited thrill ran through my veins, my bloodseemed to give abound, and then raced fast and hot along itschannels. I got up nimbly, came round to where he stood, andfaced him.

"Down with your whip!" said I, "and explain this instant what youmean."

"Sirrah! to whom are you speaking?"

"To you. There is no one else present, I think. You say I havebeen calumniating you--complaining of your low wages and badtreatment. Give your grounds for these assertions."

Crimsworth had no dignity, and when I sternly demanded anexplanation, he gave one in a loud, scolding voice.

"Grounds I you shall have them; and turn to the light that I maysee your brazen face blush black, when you hear yourself provedto be a liar and a hypocrite. At a public meeting in theTown-hall yesterday, I had the pleasure of hearing myselfinsulted by the speaker opposed to me in the question underdiscussion, by allusions to my private affairs; by cant aboutmonsters without natural affection, family despots, and suchtrash; and when I rose to answer, I was met by a shout from thefilthy mob, where the mention of your name enabled me at once todetect the quarter in which this base attack had originated. WhenI looked round, I saw that treacherous villain, Hunsden acting asfugleman. I detected you in close conversation with Hunsden atmy house a month ago, and I know that you were at Hunsden's roomslast night. Deny it if you dare."

"Oh, I shall not deny it! And if Hunsden hounded on the peopleto hiss you, he did quite right. You deserve popular execration;for a worse man, a harder master, a more brutal brother than youare has seldom existed."

"Sirrah! sirrah!" reiterated Crimsworth; and to complete hisapostrophe, he cracked the whip straight over my head.

A minute sufficed to wrest it from him, break it in two pieces,and throw it under the grate. He made a headlong rush at me,which I evaded, and said--

"Touch me, and I'll have you up before the nearest magistrate."

Men like Crimsworth, if firmly and calmly resisted, always abatesomething of their exorbitant insolence; he had no mind to bebrought before a magistrate, and I suppose he saw I meant what Isaid. After an odd and long stare at me, at once bull-like andamazed, he seemed to bethink himself that, after all, his moneygave him sufficient superiority over a beggar like me, and thathe had in his hands a surer and more dignified mode of revengethan the somewhat hazardous one of personal chastisement.

"Take your hat," said he. "Take what belongs to you, and go outat that door; get away to your parish, you pauper: beg, steal,starve, get transported, do what you like; but at your perilventure again into my sight! If ever I hear of your setting footon an inch of ground belonging to me, I'll hire a man to caneyou."

"It is not likely you'll have the chance; once off your premises,what temptation can I have to return to them? I leave a prison, Ileave a tyrant; I leave what is worse than the worst that can liebefore me, so no fear of my coming back."

"Go, or I'll make you!" exclaimed Crimsworth.

I walked deliberately to my desk, took out such of its contentsas were my own property, put them in my pocket, locked the desk,and placed the key on the top.

"What are you abstracting from that desk?" demanded themillowner. "Leave all behind in its place, or I'll send for apoliceman to search you."

"Look sharp about it, then," said I, and I took down my hat, drewon my gloves, and walked leisurely out of the counting-house--walked out of it to enter it no more.

I recollect that when the mill-bell rang the dinner hour, beforeMr. Crimsworth entered, and the scene above related took place, Ihad had rather a sharp appetite, and had been waiting somewhatimpatiently to hear the signal of feeding time. I forgot it now,however; the images of potatoes and roast mutton were effacedfrom my mind by the stir and tumult which the transaction of thelast half-hour had there excited. I only thought of walking,that the action of my muscles might harmonize with the action ofmy nerves; and walk I did, fast and far. How could I dootherwise? A load was lifted off my heart; I felt light andliberated. I had got away from Bigben Close without a breach ofresolution; without injury to my self-respect. I had not forcedcircumstances; circumstances had freed me. Life was again opento me; no longer was its horizon limited by the high black wallsurrounding Crimsworth's mill. Two hours had elapsed before mysensations had so far subsided as to leave me calm enough toremark for what wider and clearer boundaries I had exchanged thatsooty girdle. When I did look up, lo! straight before me layGrovetown, a village of villas about five miles out of X----. Theshort winter day, as I perceived from the far-declined sun, wasalready approaching its close; a chill frost-mist was rising fromthe river on which X---- stands, and along whose banks the road Ihad taken lay; it dimmed the earth, but did not obscure the clearicy blue of the January sky. There was a great stillness nearand far; the time of the day favoured tranquillity, as the peoplewere all employed within-doors, the hour of evening release fromthe factories not being yet arrived; a sound of full-flowingwater alone pervaded the air, for the river was deep andabundant, swelled by the melting of a late snow. I stood awhile,leaning over a wall; and looking down at the current: I watchedthe rapid rush of its waves. I desired memory to take a clear andpermanent impression of the scene, and treasure it for futureyears. Grovetown church clock struck four; looking up, I beheldthe last of that day's sun, glinting red through the leaflessboughs of some very old oak trees surrounding the church--itslight coloured and characterized the picture as I wished. Ipaused yet a moment, till the sweet, slow sound of the bell hadquite died out of the air; then ear, eye and feeling satisfied, Iquitted the wall and once more turned my face towards X----.