Talking with Michael one day, soon after his arrival, on the subject of the factories, Roger discovered to his surprise that his friend strongly disapproved of the enterprise.
‘I am not one of the company, you may be very sure,’ he said.
‘I wish I had known. I would have taken care to have nothing to do with it,’ cried Roger, perturbed.
‘On the contrary, I am very glad you have something to do with it. I have more confidence in it since you came. I daresay my reasons for disliking it may sound quite absurd. I know they are not business-like. I dislike Askam, and I think the friendship between him and Gilbert is quite unnatural. The more I see of him the more convinced I am of this. I know for a fact that Otho Askam took the thing up out of pure speculativeness, for an adventure, partly to please Gilbert, who has got a wonderful influence over him, but chiefly to vex Sir Thomas Winthrop,’ and Michael briefly recounted the scene which had taken place at the ‘King’s Arms.’ ‘After[‘After] that, nothing would satisfy Otho but to get the thing started at once. I don’t believe in the stability of an enterprise built upon any such foundation, though I have no doubt Gilbert will push it through, if it is to be done. He says he is quite satisfied with things as they are. Let them be! I am glad you get anything good out of it.’
Roger said nothing to this, but he watched Michael when he could do so unobserved, and he became very thoughtful. He saw that his friend’s face was thinner, and his smile less frequent than it had been. There was a little fold between his eyebrows, telling of a mind not always at ease. These changes had taken place in two years, though Michael had been, in a small way, getting on in the world.
Six busy months passed, during which Roger had his work cut out for him, and so much of it, that he could scarce compass each day’s task in its allotted time. The labour was severe, the pay was not very large; the enterprise was a risky one. But he was one of those organisations which seem to thrive and feed on hard work and herculean exertions as others do on meat and recreation; he enjoyed it all, and it seemed to put new life into him. It really looked as if Gilbert’s little boast to Otho in past days, that if he did not know how to manage mills, he did understand how to manage men, were literally true, so perfectly was this new-comer of his selection suited for the task offered to him. The stiffer the work, the higher did his spirits rise. The employment was varied, too. It was not as if he had entered upon a business which was ready and in smooth working order. The whole concern wanted ‘floating,’ in a small way, and on him fell the burden of doing it. There was not only the new machinery to see about—which Roger thoroughly understood, and into the details of which he went with the zeal of an enthusiast—there were also the repairs necessary to the buildings themselves, after standing so many years empty and idle; to the boilers and the engines, all of which it took time and money to set in order. Then there was the getting together a sufficient number of hands, chiefly women and girls, most of them out of Bridge Street, some from one or two of the neighbouring villages; and again, some skilled artisans from Barrow-in-Furness, to instruct the novices in their work; and all this had to be done with the utmost economy possible. It was an enormous task, which pleased Roger greatly; and while he was working at it, he had no time to spare, even for Michael.
When he had come to Bradstane, there had been a question about where he was to live. This was settled by Dr. Rowntree, who said—
‘Come to the barrack, and put up with Michael and me.’
Roger hesitated a little at first, but there was no mistaking the sincerity of the doctor’s wish, and the young man was very willing to be persuaded; for, to tell the truth, there was no one in the world in whose proximity he loved so well to be as in that of Michael Langstroth. He therefore soon allowed his scruples to be overcome, and so was formed this odd triangular household of bachelors, old and young, and hard work was the order of the day.
While Roger was full of business, and seeming to grow heartier and stronger the more he had to do, Michael, he noticed, when he had time to notice him, was a good deal quieter and staider than he once had been; not with the dulness of discontent, it would seem, nor of depression, but, so far as Roger could make out, just with the quietness which comes to nearly all men, as life lays gradually increasing burdens upon them. Roger sometimes wondered if his long engagement pressed upon Michael, but at the sound of Magdalen’s name there always crossed his face that expression which, the first time Roger had seen it, had wrung his heart, because it had told him that a spell stronger than friendship had taken possession of Michael’s being. They did not talk about such things, or ‘confide’ in each other—such is not the way of men’s friendships, nor, perhaps, of any deep friendships; and then, Michael, with his outwardly urbane and gracious manner, was deeply reserved on personal matters; and Roger, for all his rough exterior, and oftentimes untutored tongue, had what is called, and very generally miscalled, ‘the tact of a woman,’ in regard to such topics.