‘Millbank of Millbank, made the place, made it himself. About three miles from Bolton; train to-morrow morning at 7.25, get a fly at the station, and you will be at Millbank by 8.40.’
‘Unfortunately I am engaged to-morrow morning,’ said Coningsby, ‘and yet I am most anxious, particularly anxious, to see Millbank.’
‘Well, there’s a late train,’ said the stranger, ‘3.15; you will be there by 4.30.’
‘I think I could manage that,’ said Coningsby.
‘Do,’ said the stranger; ‘and if you ever find yourself at Staleybridge, I shall be very happy to be of service. I must be off now. My train goes at 9.15.’ And he presented Coningsby with his card as he wished him good night.
MR. G. O. A. HEAD, STALEYBRIDGE.
CHAPTER III.
In a green valley of Lancaster, contiguous to that district of factories on which we have already touched, a clear and powerful stream flows through a broad meadow land. Upon its margin, adorned, rather than shadowed, by some old elm-trees, for they are too distant to serve except for ornament, rises a vast deep red brick pile, which though formal and monotonous in its general character, is not without a certain beauty of proportion and an artist-like finish in its occasional masonry. The front, which is of great extent, and covered with many tiers of small windows, is flanked by two projecting wings in the same style, which form a large court, completed by a dwarf wall crowned with a light, and rather elegant railing; in the centre, the principal entrance, a lofty portal of bold and beautiful design, surmounted by a statue of Commerce.